“And he fully expects you to try,” Coralyn answered. “He’s ready for you, Lara. If he catches you, he’ll kill you in the worst of ways.”
“Prepared for me, but not for all of us together.”
“And imagine how pleased he will be that you’ve made his desire to have every one of you dead that much easier to achieve.” The old woman shook her head, the heavy earrings she wore swaying back and forth. “You girls need to go. Need to run as far away from Maridrina as you can get.”
“No.” Lara growled the word, and she heard her sisters shift forward, not one of them backing down. “If you care so much for our well-being, then help. Give us the information we need to get Aren out.”
“There is nothing I could tell you that would make a difference. You’d need an army to get him out, which you don’t have. And I’ll not help you with anything that puts the lives of the harem and its children in danger.”
“You can tell us where he’s kept. Give us information about the layout of the place and where the guards are stationed. You can help us find a way in.”
Coralyn’s jaw tightened and she sharply shook her head. “In? In is the easy part, girl. It’s trying to get out, especially with Aren in tow, that will get you all killed. The palace was built to contain. It’s nothing more than a beautiful prison.”
“She’s right.” Nana’s voice was rough. “I never intended to spend an entire year inside the harem, but once I was in . . .” She exhaled a long breath. “Getting out was impossible. My only choice was to work to earn enough of the king’s trust that he’d allow me to leave the palace under escort. Even then, it took multiple attempts before I was able to escape. And I wasn’t under near the scrutiny that Aren will be.”
A dull roar filled Lara’s ears. It’s impossible. Impossible.
“But you can get us in.” Sarhina’s voice cut through the noise filling Lara’s head. “You said that was easy, although we’ve not found that to be the case.”
“Easy is relative.”
“Please answer the question, Aunt,” Sarhina said. “We will do this, with or without your help.”
Silence.
“What sort of training were you given in the desert?” Coralyn finally asked, giving them all an appraising look. “Not the warrior spy nonsense. Your other skills.” She held up a hand before Lara could answer. “A different question—Who did your father have training you to be wives?”
Lara gave Sarhina a quick glance, then said, “Mistress Mezat.”
Coralyn’s face darkened, but she nodded. “I may have a way, but I’ll need some of the younger wives to help.”
“Do you think they’ll agree?” Lara asked, dubious that women who were closer in age to her and her sisters would care about decisions her father had made over sixteen years ago, much less be willing to risk everything to punish him for them.
Coralyn nodded. “You girls weren’t the only children Silas allowed the Magpie to spirit away. And you certainly aren’t the only ones whose lives are in danger from him.”
“Excellent,” Sarhina said. “Now we just need to figure a way out of a place we haven’t seen in over sixteen years.”
What they needed were eyes on the inside. And not just any eyes.
Biting her thumbnail, Lara considered the problem. Coralyn would be able to provide them descriptions of the interior, but she lacked the training to spot the details that might be useful for an escape. For that, they needed someone who knew everything there was about defense, and therefore every possible way to get around it. “I have an idea.”
16
Aren
A storm had descended the day after the dinner party, a monstrosity that plunked itself overhead and showed no inclination to move for the better part of a week. Vencia was subjected to a steady deluge of rain, which meant Aren was kept inside the majority of the time, mostly confined to his small room. Not for his comfort, he suspected, but rather because Silas’s soldiers had no interest in standing outside in the downpour.
Being so confined would have normally grated on Aren’s nerves, but instead he found himself lost in thought as he considered how he might use an alliance with the harem to his advantage.
The first step would be whether Coralyn succeeded in meeting with his people and delivering his orders to desist in their rescue attempts. Aren couldn’t think with the bodies stacking up, with faces he knew and loved slowly filling the walls of Silas’s awful garden. He’d rather be dead than endure that.
But if his people stopped dying . . .
While he did pull-ups hanging from the doorframe to the bathing chamber, Aren considered precisely what it was he might hope to achieve by remaining alive. Escape was an obvious, albeit a selfish, goal. Locked in this palace, he felt helpless to do anything to aid his kingdom. The only information he had about Ithicana was what select pieces Silas or Serin chose to give, all of which were to be taken with a grain of salt. He had no idea how much of his army had survived, where they were hiding, or whether they were in any condition to fight. Without that knowledge, it was impossible to strategize—like trying to fight in the dark. But if he could just get out . . .
On the heels of that thought always came the self-doubt that even if he were free, it would do nothing to change the tides. After all, what good had he done before he’d been captured? Fighting day in and day out, but always being pushed back by the Maridrinians and Amaridians, who had more manpower, more resources, more of everything. His presence wouldn’t change that, and Ahnna or any of the other watch commanders were just as capable of commanding Ithicana’s army as he was.
You’re worthless.
He tried to shove away the thought, which reared up again and again, despite his best efforts. He’d caused all this by trusting Lara. All of it was his fault. Which meant, perhaps, that Ithicana was better off without him.
Growling in irritation, he dropped to the floor and started doing sit-ups, the chains around his ankles and wrists clinking.
“Don’t know why you bother,” one of his guards said from where he stood leaning against the wall. “Seems like a waste of effort.”
“Maybe,” Aren said between sit-ups. “I just don’t want to start looking like you.”
The guard’s face reddened, and he cast a sideways glance at his comrade, who smirked. “I suppose it’s important to look your best on the way to the executioner’s block.”
Aren’s brow furrowed. Not because the threat particularly concerned him, but because he was beginning to question why Silas was keeping him alive. To bait Lara was the reason he’d been given, but a great deal of time had passed since his capture, and if anyone had heard a whisper of the Queen of Ithicana’s whereabouts, it hadn’t been repeated to him.
Maybe she’s dead.
The thought sent a flurry of emotion through him, and in one violent movement, he stood and went to the barred window, looking out into the courtyard.
It was possible she hadn’t escaped Ithicana. Storm season had begun when Maridrina had attacked, and Lara was no sailor. Nor had she any practical knowledge of Ithicana’s geography beyond what lay in and around Midwatch. There was a very good chance she’d died within a day of her wild sprint away from him, one of the many dangers lurking on Ithicana’s shores or in its seas having gotten the better of her.