So had he, which was strange, given it had been a clear night. Without a storm to guard Ithicana’s shores, Aren normally tossed and turned half the night. He would’ve been late to rise himself if the damn cat hadn’t woken him.
“Good morning, children.”
Aren turned to see Jor appear through the mist, a bread roll he’d clearly filched from the kitchen in one hand.
The older man gave Aren a once-over. “You’re looking awfully well rested for a man who’s just been married.”
Ahnna cackled. “I don’t think he had much company last night. Or any.”
“Pissed the new wife off already?”
Aren ignored the question, a vision of Lara standing at the foot of his bed swimming across his thoughts, her naked body so damnably perfect that it had to have been a dream. The taste of her lips, the feel of her silken skin beneath his hands, the sound of her breath, ragged with desire. It had all been so vivid, but his memory stopped there.
Definitely a dream.
Pulling a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket, Aren handed it to Ahnna. “Your marching orders for Southwatch.”
She unfolded it, eyes running over the revised trade terms with Maridrina, brows furrowing with renewed annoyance.
“I’ll walk down with you to the barracks,” he said. “I need a runner to take Northwatch their copy. Maridrina’s already sent buyers through the bridge with gold. They’ll be wanting to get underway.” To Jor, he said, “Who’s on watch?”
“Lia.”
“Good. Keep her here. I don’t expect Lara to cause any trouble, but . . .”
Jor coughed. “About Lara. Aster’s here. He wants a word.”
“He’s at the barracks?”
“On the water.”
“Of course he is.” The commander of the Kestark garrison—south of Midwatch —was a member of the old guard. He was appointed near the end of Aren’s grandfather’s life, and Aren’s mother had spent nearly her entire reign looking for a legitimate reason to have him replaced, with no success. The old bastard clung to Ithicanian tradition like a barnacle to a boat, and Aren had not failed to notice that of all the Watch Commanders, Aster had been the only one who hadn’t been at his wedding. “I suppose we shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
The mist hung in the air like a great grey blanket, reducing the sun to a silver orb and making it impossible to see more than a few dozen paces in either direction. Down at the cove, Ahnna’s bodyguard awaited her, as did his own, the men and women silently pushing their craft out into the water. Ahnna joined him in one of the Midwatch vessels.
The air was still, not a breeze to fill a sail, and the rattling of the chain rising from where it blocked the cove’s entrance felt like a vulgar violation of the silence. Paddles dipped in and out of the water as the group eased around hazards lurking only a few feet beneath the surface, moving out into the open and toward the hulking shadow of the bridge.
“Aren.”
Turning to look at his twin, Aren tracked her gaze to the water, where he caught sight of an enormous shape moving beneath them. The shark was longer than the boat he sat in—and more than capable of destroying it, should it feel inclined—but that wasn’t why Ahnna had pointed out the predator. Its arrival heralded a calming of the Tempest Seas, and it wouldn’t be long before Ithicana’s waters were red with blood.
His spine prickled and Aren reached for a spyglass, panning their surroundings, his efforts yielding nothing but grey. A fine thing for hiding the comings and goings of his people, but it served their enemy just as well.
“It’s weeks early. Nana hasn’t called the end of the season yet.” But for all Ahnna’s words, he noticed her hand had drifted to the weapon belted at her waist, her eyes watchful. “I need to get back to Southwatch.”
Through the mist a pair of vessels appeared. Aster—always one for overt symbolism—having chosen to wait directly beneath the bridge.
“Your Grace.” The older man reached out to pull the two boats together. “I’m relieved to see you well.”
“Were you expecting otherwise?” The vessels rocked as his guards switched places with the commander, giving the three of them some semblance of privacy.
“Given what you’ve brought into your house, yes.”
“She’s little more than a girl, alone, and at our mercy. I think I can handle myself.”
“Even a child can slip poison into a cup. And the Maridrinians are known for it.”
“Rest easy, Aster, my life is in no danger from Lara. Silas Veliant is no fool—he knows that having his daughter assassinate me would only cost him his new trade deal with Ithicana.”
“Lara.” Aster spat into the water. “I can hear in your voice that she’s already digging in her claws. You must know there’s a reason they sent a woman as beautiful as her.”
“How would you know what she looks like, Commander?” Ahnna interrupted. “I didn’t see you at the wedding, though I suppose it’s possible you were hiding in the back.”
Aren bit down on his tongue. The Kestark commander was short for an Ithicanian, and he did not like to be reminded of it.
“I’ve heard what she looks like.” Aster’s gaze was as dead-eyed as the shark’s swimming beneath as he regarded them. “I did not attend, because I did not support your choice in taking her as your wife.”
He wasn’t alone in that. There were a great many, especially the older generation, who’d protested the union vehemently. “Then why are you here now?”
“To give you some advice, Your Grace. Take the Maridrinian girl down to the water and drown her. Hold her under until you’re well and sure she’s dead, then feed her corpse to the sea.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
“I’m not in the habit of murdering innocent women,” Aren finally said.
“Innocent. There’s a word.” Aster scowled, casting his gaze up at the bridge above them before turning it back on Aren. “I forget how young you are, Your Grace. You were only a boy kept safe in Eranahl the last time we went to war with Maridrina. You didn’t fight in those battles where they threw their entire navy against us, blockading Southwatch and stymying trade, all while our people starved. You weren’t there when Silas Veliant realized that he couldn’t win by force and took his vengeance on the outlying islands, his soldiers slaughtering families and stringing their bodies up for the birds to feast on.”
Aren hadn’t been old enough to fight, but that didn’t mean he didn’t remember how desperate his parents had been when they proposed the treaty to Maridrina and Harendell. “We’ve had fifteen years of peace with them, Aster. Fifteen years of Silas not lifting a hand against Ithicana.”
“He’s still the same man!” Aster roared. “And you’ve taken one of his progeny into your bed! I’ve taken you for many things, Aren Kertell, but not until now did I take you to be a fool.”
Ahnna had a knife in her hand, but Aren gave her a warning shake of the head. He’d spent the past year being pushed and questioned by his Watch Commanders and it would take more than a few insults to crack his temper. “I know as well as anyone what sort of man Silas Veliant is, Commander. But this treaty has bought us peace and stability with Maridrina, and I will do nothing to jeopardize that.”