Page 10

“Have you learned anything?” Ahnna asked when her friends met in her room after dinner, having not been willing to bring up the topic with so many servants listening.

“Not about new markets, no,” Taryn said, and then met Bronwyn’s gaze for a moment, the pair silently communicating. “There’s more resentment toward Ithicana than I realized. I’m not sure if the spies are missing it, or if this shift is recent. Either way, there is a sourness toward Aren and the bridge.” Her jaw worked side-to-side. “And you.”

Not at all the news Ahnna had hoped for.

Bronwyn sighed. “The grievances are much the same flavor as what the Magpie used to convince us Ithicana was the villain. That you exercise near-total control over trade between the northern and southern continents and use that control to extort punitive taxes and tolls. There’s a lot of resentment among the staff, especially given they are unaware of the true state of Ithicana. They think Aren sits on his throne of gold and feasts while he abuses his power, and I think the only reason they said as much is because they believe a Maridrinian is sure to be like-minded.” Bronwyn made a face. “Which is honestly a possibility. The Maridrinians pay even higher tolls.”

Ahnna rubbed at her temple. “I’d thought the rumors of Ithicanian wealth had been put to bed by the Maridrinians when they discovered we don’t actually have hidden stockpiles of gold.”

“Times are tough, and that always fosters strife.” Bronwyn thought for a moment. “There may be more to learn, but servants will say only so much to a lady.” Her friend rolled her eyes, and it occurred to Ahnna that this was probably the first time Bronwyn had been treated like the princess she was, for surely that had not been the case on the compound in the desert, and it definitely hadn’t been the case in Ithicana. Her words suggested that she found it all an inconvenience, and yet she slipped into the gowns and jewels of rank with the ease of someone who’d worn them all her life.

Ahnna went to the window and looked out into the darkness. “We’re leaving in the morning, so there might be more to learn as we travel.”

The butler had told her that James was in the city making arrangements, and that was why he’d missed dinner. She’d seen him through the glass walls of the orangery, dressed in black trousers and coat, throat concealed by a perfectly knotted cravat, and boots polished to a shine. He wore one of the strange flat-top hats that wealthy Harendellians wore, yet rather than foolish, he looked…Well, Ahnna wasn’t willing to put words to what she thought of James’s appearance, only that foolish was not at all the word she’d use.

Attractive, the rebellious part of her soul whispered. And formidable.

Annoyed at herself, she responded, How about arrogant, condescending, and uptight?

“Pardon?” Taryn asked, and Ahnna realized she’d said the words aloud. “Nothing. We should all get some rest. From the sound of it, we have a full day in a carriage tomorrow, with another to follow.”

“Not the luxurious riverboat that was promised,” Bronwyn said, then linked arms with Taryn, giving her a slow grin. “Come sing me a song so that I sleep like a babe.”

Taryn’s cheeks turned pink, and Ahnna hid a smile at her cousin’s reaction. “See you in the morning.”

As they left, Hazel came inside with folded white fabric in her hands. “Are you ready to undress, my lady?”

It felt as though she was being treated like a child who could not manage her own buttons, but Ahnna understood that this was how things were done in Harendell. And she was not quite stubborn enough to die on every hill. “Thank you.”

Hazel unfolded one of the white garments, revealing a nightgown that laced high on the neck and would reach down to Ahnna’s ankles. “Your maid neglected to pack sleeping garments, my lady, so I secured something appropriate.”

Given how hot Ithicana always was, Ahnna preferred to sleep nude, but she kept that to herself as she kicked off her boots and unfastened her belt. Her tunic and trousers followed, but as she lifted her undershirt, Hazel’s face blanched. “My lady! Why didn’t you mention you were injured?”

Ahnna glanced down at her side, her ribs marked with virulent purple bruises from where she’d hit the ship’s rail. “Just bruises, nothing broken.”

“How are you moving about?” Hazel clutched Ahnna’s clothes to her chest, eyes wide. “You should be in bed!”

“That would make it worse.” Ahnna picked up the nightgown and pulled it over her head, feeling rather silly in all the frills and lace. “I know from experience.”

“It’s horrible that you’ve been made to fight all your life.” Hazel shook her head. “It should be the responsibility of the men. It’s terrible that you’ve had to endure so much violence.”

Ahnna started to laugh at the idiocy of that statement, then reconsidered. “Do you have family, Hazel?”

“In Verwyrd, my lady. My parents and two elder sisters, who have eight children between them.”

“Imagine, if you would, that every single day, Verwyrd risked attack from those who would gladly kill everyone they found.” When Hazel stiffened, Ahnna added, “That is what it is like in Ithicana, with the only freedom found during the typhoons, which bring their own variety of pain.”

“It sounds horrible.”

“Sometimes.” Ahnna fastened the laces at her throat, then sat as Hazel retrieved a comb. “But it’s far worse if you don’t know how to take care of yourself. Imagine being in such a situation and relying on the men in your family as your only form of protection. Imagine being caught by enemies while you are without those men, and you cannot protect your nieces and nephews because women are not taught to wield a blade. Imagine watching them die because you cared more about propriety and a man’s vision of femininity than the skills it took to face reality. Would you thank them for protecting you then, or would you curse them for limiting you?”

Hazel drew in a shaky breath. “I would curse them, my lady.”

“I know you think poorly of me for not wearing beautiful gowns,” Ahnna said. “Except all my life, I’ve been fighting to protect those I care about, and I can’t do that if I’m trussed in yards of silk and satin. I have no wish to be disrespectful, but I need to be able to move, which means compromises must be made.” And to herself, Ahnna added, I need to remember who I am and why I’m here.

“I understand, my lady.” Hazel drew the comb through Ahnna’s loose curls, gently teasing free the knots that had formed. “I am sorry for pressing you on the matter, it is only that I know how the ladies of Harendell are.” She was quiet for a long moment. “They don’t cut with blades but with words, and I think you will never meet women as cruel as those in Verwyrd. They despise anyone who is not like them, and they will not respect your reasons as those of the common classes will.”

“If I am to be their queen, they will learn to respect me as I am.”

“As you say, my lady.” Hazel set aside the comb, then swiftly plaited Ahnna’s hair. “Is there anything else you require before bed?”

“No.”

Hazel stood, waiting with her arms politely crossed. Understanding that she wouldn’t leave until she’d tucked Ahnna into bed, Ahnna climbed onto the towering piece of furniture. Then Hazel pulled the blankets up around her chin as though she were a child. It was a struggle not to laugh, especially given the maid was nearly a foot shorter than Ahnna. Yet as the blankets were tucked around her, Ahnna found herself asking, “Has His Highness returned?”

“Not last I heard, my lady.” Hazel patted the blankets. “Business in the city, and he’s known to keep late hours.”

That piqued Ahnna’s attention, because James had struck her as an individual who was always to bed at a reasonable hour, not out and about when illicit behavior was likely to occur. “I see.”

“Good night, my lady.” Hazel snuffed the candles so only the single lamp remained, flame turned low. Drawing the curtains on the bed, she left the room.

Ahnna stared up at the canopy of velvet, considering what Taryn and Bronwyn had told her. Though she was not prone to tears, her eyes stung at the knowledge that so many souls resented her people just for trying to survive. That they believed Ithicanians lived in the lap of luxury when every single Ithicanian toiled daily against adversity to provide for their family. To care for their friends and village. A struggle made so much more difficult with all that had been lost and with no means to rebuild other than toil.

It felt as though each step Ahnna took deeper into Harendell revealed another obstacle, and breathless panic began its slow rise in her chest, her head throbbing and her hands like ice as a future where she could do nothing to help Ithicana played out before her. The lace of her nightgown made her neck and wrists itch, her ribs ached, and something in her snapped.

Flinging herself out of bed, Ahnna tore off the nightgown and left it in a heap, pacing naked back and forth across the floor. The oppressive sense of being caged only grew.

Going to the wardrobe, she pulled on clothes and boots, fastening a knife to her belt. Opening the heavy drapes, Ahnna unlatched the window and looked out. The peculiar maze of hedges was illuminated, and lamps burned all around the property, rendering it nearly as bright as day. She could make out the figures of soldiers patrolling, but they had the look of men who were only going through the motions.

Testing the strength of the trellis, Ahnna found it secure, and she climbed down until the ground was near enough for her to jump. Her boots hit the soft turf and she rolled, coming to her feet and swiftly darting to the shadow of a statue. Then to the next.

And then she was in the maze.

It was darker inside, the leafy greenery rising higher than her head, but the skies were clear enough for her to keep her sense of direction as she unpuzzled it, the focus it required easing the panic in her heart. Solving the maze had been all she’d originally intended to do, but then she found herself on the far side of it, the wall at the rear of the property only a short distance away.

Didn’t it occur to you to get the lay of the land by visiting before you arrived to marry the crown prince? Bronwyn’s voice filled her head, and Ahnna grimaced, more than understanding what a mistake that had been.

Crouching at the exit of the maze, Ahnna considered how that mistake was best rectified. In all her brother’s adventures on both continents, she knew Aren had pretended to be a commoner, and those were the people he fraternized with under his many aliases. “I know everything there is to know about the nobility and the wealthy merchants,” he always said. “That’s who we spy on. I want to know about everything else. Every one else.”

And given that her own knowledge was driven by spy reports, it meant what she knew about Harendell was equally biased toward those who ruled. Yet those who ruled served the people, so it was important that she understood them just as well.

Watching a soldier pass on patrol, Ahnna waited for him to be out of earshot, and then she broke into a run. Her long strides ate up the ground, and with a soft grunt of effort, she jumped, catching hold of the edge of the wall. She hooked her ankle over the edge, then swiftly rolled over the top, landing in a crouch on the cobbles on the far side.

To find herself face-to-face with a young boy, his cheeks streaked with dirt. “You robbing them?” he asked.

Ahnna considered her answer. “Yes.”

He grinned. “Good. The bastards deserve it.” Then he scampered into an alley.

Rising from her crouch, Ahnna walked down the lane, heading in the direction of the wharf, where there were certain to be sailors and merchants drinking and gossiping. The cobbled streets were worn smooth by the passage of countless feet and carriage wheels, the gutters piled high with a shocking amount of horse shit. Lamps flickered at each intersection, illuminating the faces of people trudging home after a day’s toil, none of them paying her any attention.

This area seemed to be mostly homes, long buildings with doors at equal intervals, shapes visible through curtains on every level, which suggested to her that a different family lived on each floor. Over the smell of manure, she picked out the scents of woodsmoke and cooking food and human urine, the stench so oppressive Ahnna fought the urge to cover her mouth and nose.

She was used to the smell of the sea. The scent of a storm. The wildness of the jungle. The press of humanity felt like being buried alive, and for a few moments, Ahnna debated fleeing back to the relative peace of Fernleigh House. Only to see a familiar tall figure cross in front of her and head down a side street.

James.

She hadn’t come into the city to spy on his business, yet Ahnna found herself breaking away from her trajectory to follow him. She stayed well back and kept her head down. There was still enough traffic of people and horses that he took no notice of her footfalls.

James walked with purpose, those he passed giving way, though she noticed how he nodded at the women, ever courteous. That he did so even outside the view of peers who might judge him made her smile, because she’d never met anyone whose politeness seemed so ingrained in his soul.

James paused beneath a streetlamp to consult a piece of paper, then headed up to the door of one of the buildings, knocking sharply.

Ahnna headed into the shadows of the neighboring staircase, watching as a woman holding a baby opened the door. The moment she saw him, the woman’s face crumpled, and a wail tore from her throat. Ahnna instantly knew what James was doing, because she’d had to do it many times herself.

Delivering news of the fallen.

An older woman appeared, taking the baby, listening to whatever words of comfort James gave as he handed her coins. He inclined his head, said a few more words, then descended the steps and continued down the street.

Ahnna didn’t follow. This was miserable work, though she respected him for doing it himself rather than delegating it to an officer, because it did mean something to hear the news from the one under whom your loved one had served. Perhaps not in the moment, but later.

Or so she’d been told.

Watching until his long strides took him out of sight, Ahnna sighed, then retreated to the main street, and then followed it down toward the sea. It wasn’t long until the street grew more crowded and raucous, drunk men and women spilling in and out of brightly lit buildings loud with music and laughter. It smelled of ale, vomit, and humanity, and Ahnna scanned the names of the various establishments, trying to decide which one to enter.

The Fabled Flask seemed a good mix of sailors and merchants, so Ahnna went inside. It was full of circular tables surrounded by mostly men dressed in stained shirts and baggy trousers, the floppy hats the sailors favored on the tables next to them. They were either conversing or playing cards or dice. None paid her any mind. A hearth burned low against one wall, though the added heat was hardly necessary, for the room was so thick with the scent of sweat that Ahnna nearly walked back out again.

She wove between the tables, heading in the direction of the bar, where she saw some empty space. Only to draw up short as a man stuck a thick leg out in front of her. He was heavyset with a bushy mustache, the front of his shirt stained with grease, his piggy eyes looking her up and down. “Why don’t you have a seat, lass,” he said, patting his lap. His hand bore a long scar down the center of it, though it was hard to see through the grime.

His friend laughed, the sound nasal as a result of a nose that had been broken and poorly set. His other companion only shook his head and said, “You never learn, do you, Jasper? Keep your hands for the barmaids.”

Jasper belched, then slapped his knee again. “Have a seat, girl. I don’t mind that scar of yours none. Let’s have a visit.”

Lifting one eyebrow, Ahnna looked Jasper up and down, then said, “I’ll pass,” and stepped over his outstretched leg.

Only for his hand to crack hard against her backside.