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Lestara’s words preyed on her soul the entire night, and when morning came, Ahnna dressed in the silk replica of her Ithicanian clothes that Hazel had made for her, her maid having removed the bloodstains and cunningly repaired the tear. It might not spare her mockery, but at least she’d be comfortable while enduring it.

Two hours after dawn, she was striding down the spiral with her guards in tow, where she found a yawning James sitting on a bale of hay. He eyed her clothing but said nothing, only rose and led her into the stable. His eyes were shadowed as though he’d had little sleep, but he was clean-shaven, and over the smell of horses, she picked out the scent of soap and cedar. He didn’t say anything as they walked past the long rows of horses, yet she found herself deeply aware of his presence, and of the scarce few inches between their elbows as they walked. So much so that she passed by her horse’s stall without noticing, and James said, “Have you reconsidered your mount?”

“No.” Her voice was more indignant than she intended, her cheeks warming.

“God forbid you make a decision that might make my life easy,” he muttered, leaning against the stall door. “You need to learn to take care of him. If you’re ever caught in a bad spot, a good horse can save your life, but you won’t get far if you can’t even put on a saddle.”

This seemed reasonable and was much the same way she’d been taught to sail. You wouldn’t get far if you couldn’t lift your own canvas or repair a hole. “All right.”

Under James’s critical eye, she brushed the horse and picked his hooves clean of a shocking amount of shit, after which he inspected everything like a jeweler inspecting the quality of a gemstone. “Satisfactory,” he said, then gave her a long-winded and boring explanation about caring for saddles and bridles. Ahnna focused on every word despite her primary interest being getting on Dippy’s back again.

What seemed like an eternity later, they led the horse out into the yard. Putting the reins over Dippy’s head, Ahnna bent her knees to vault onto his back, but James shook his head. “Stirrup. You’re not a twelve-year-old jockey getting paid for your madness.”

“That’s how you did it.”

Giving her a world-weary sigh, James put his foot into the stirrup and swung into the saddle. Dippy shifted a little, his ears flicking backward as though listening.

“Your turn.” James dismounted, holding the reins and stroking the horse’s neck, expression bored. Yet he radiated tension.

Likely because he was anticipating another half an hour of her hopping around on one foot, trying to get in the saddle.

Scowling, Ahnna stepped closer and then lifted her foot, fitting her toe into the stirrup. Dippy didn’t move. Ahnna held her breath, waiting for him to pull away, and when he didn’t, she lifted herself upward, settling in the saddle. The horse didn’t move. Neither did she.

“Good boy, Dippy.” James patted the horse on the neck.

“What about me?” she demanded. “I got on. Give a little credit where it’s due.”

Their eyes locked, and James said, “Good girl, Princess.”

Ahnna knew he was mocking her, but heat rushed to her face even as it pooled low in her stomach. She had commanded a garrison of soldiers. Ruled in proxy. Fought a war. No one, no one ever spoke to her like that, because it would be answered with a fist to the face.

Yet she said nothing, feeling as though the whole world had fallen away, leaving only her and James. And the very forbidden attraction that lurked between them. An attraction they both seemed unable to step away from, despite it having the power to damn them both.

Then a groom coughed, destroying the illusion.

“We’re done for the day.” James broke eye contact. “Get off.”

Ahnna’s eyes narrowed. Picking up the reins, she thumped her heels against the horse’s sides.

Dippy did a strange vertical leap, and Ahnna found herself rolling off the side to land in the dirt next to his hooves. “Fuck!”

But James was already leading her horse away. “You can try again tomorrow. I have duties to take care of.”

—

No invitation came from Virginia for afternoon tea, which was no shock, given Ahnna’s confrontation with Elizabeth. A burned bridge, which was perhaps not the best strategic choice Ahnna had ever made, but she did have to live with herself. Even if it meant one less ally in this family than she’d had before, bringing her to a grand total of one individual who seemed to want her in Verwyrd.

Thankfully, that one individual was the king of Harendell.

It made her wonder what Lara would have done in a similar situation. Whether she’d have kept walking or intervened. Whether she’d have put her mission first or her morals. Grudgingly, Ahnna conceded that Lara would have done the same, but then somehow mitigated the damage done.

Pacing her room with a teacup in hand, Ahnna debated the best course of action. Whether she should apologize to Virginia. Explain herself. Justify her decisions.

“Fuck that,” she grumbled. Virginia would know damned well why Ahnna had done what she’d done, and if the princess refused to concede that Ahnna was in the right, then no amount of justification on her part would change the other woman’s mind.

Taking another sip of tea, Ahnna went to the window, considering what Lara had said about Alexandra. That the queen was the most powerful individual in Harendell, more powerful even than Edward. Ahnna had not seen that. If anything, Edward seemed to run roughshod over Alexandra, showing her an almost shocking lack of consideration, and most certainly blaming her for all the faults he perceived in their shared son. She did what he told her to do, which had been what Aren had suggested was the dynamic.

Which one of them was correct?

In none of the spy reports that Ahnna had read had Alexandra been noted to counter Edward, nor did the spies mention any ambitions on her part beyond the norm. Charity work. Support for the church. Endowments for orphanages. Organizing parties and balls. The facts showed Alexandra as a typical Harendellian lady, but Ahnna refused to disregard the views of Lara and Keris, which suggested the queen was very much a threat.

A threat, it would seem, who had to be working behind the scenes in such a manner that she was never implicated in anything but good works. Which meant she was dangerous. And very, very clever.

Looking at the dregs of her tea, the black leaves floating in the golden liquid, Ahnna ran through her conversation with the queen for the hundredth time, hunting for a clue she’d missed. For understanding of what Alexandra had hoped to achieve with the strange conversation. At no point had she told Ahnna to leave. Indeed, she had indicated her desire for Ahnna to do the exact opposite.

Do better.

“What the fuck did she mean?” Setting the cup aside on the table, Ahnna fought the urge to scream in frustration.

Beyond her own personal safety, did Alexandra even matter? Her concern was the other market that James had alluded to. The friend of Harendell that William had mentioned. If there was a competitor to the bridge, she needed to find out who in order to mitigate it, because Ithicana would crumble if Harendell didn’t use the bridge for trade.

Bronwyn’s voice filled her head: Quit trying to do everything the opposite way of Lara. But how was spying an option? Her cursed bodyguards were right outside her door. They went everywhere with her and would surely take issue with her digging through the king and queen’s records. There was no way to sneak out through the window, for the walls of the Sky Palace were absolutely sheer, the windows latched in place, and the endless servants dusting every surface would notice if she left a window cracked.

“How do you find an ally?” She looked down at Verwyrd a thousand feet below. Then she tilted her head, thinking about the nature of Harendell. “How do you find a business partner?”

Her head shot up so fast, her neck cracked. “You follow the money.”

Going to the door, she flung it open and said to Alfred, “I need to pay a visit to Verwyrd’s lending house.”

—

Verwyrd’s lending house was, after the cathedral, the largest building in the city. A solid stone structure that she suspected was built with the same strength as a fortress, for the banks of Harendell had tremendous vaults storing both institutional wealth and the deposits of those who used their services. While Ithicana had no banking system, Ahnna was quite familiar with how Harendell’s functioned. The bank representatives conducted a great deal of business at Northwatch, and they often traveled through the bridge. So she knew that not only did the crown maintain much of its reserves in bank vaults, but it also borrowed a tremendous amount of money from them to finance initiatives.

And shipbuilding required a lot of money.

Dressed in a simple gown Hazel had made for her, Ahnna entered the building, which was even more richly appointed than the Sky Palace itself. She was instantly recognized, and a round man dressed in an impeccably tailored morning suit approached, bowing low. “Your Highness. It is our pleasure to have you in our institution, though you need not have made the journey down from the Sky Palace. If you wish to draw upon the account Ithicana created for you, a note with your signature is all that is required.”

“I require a loan,” she said. “For new dresses.”

“Your accounts will surely cover anything you require,” the banker said. “Do you wish us to transfer to a specific modiste?”

“My brother has said no more dresses,” she lied. “I require a loan.”

“Of course.” The banker blinked. “And what assets do you wish to use to secure this loan?”

She gave him a small smile. “I’m the future queen of Harendell, sir. So I will secure my loan with Harendell.”

He gaped at her. “Harendell?”

Silence stretched, and he seemed to recover his wits. “What amount does your ladyship require?”

Ahnna named an amount that would purchase fifty gowns, keeping her face blank as the color drained from his.

“A significant request,” he said. “It will take some time and, of course, a meeting with my colleagues to discuss the risk and rates of interest. We will send word to the Sky Palace when—”

“I’ll wait,” she said, striding into an office lined with extensive locked cabinets that were surely the records of their customers. “Tea would be lovely.”

“Yes, my lady.” The banker motioned to a young woman to fetch tea. “This may take some time.”

“I’ve an hour until I meet with the modiste,” Ahnna said, sitting in the chair and pulling out a novel from her pocket. “Hopefully that is sufficient time.”

“Of course, my lady,” the banker said, and Ahnna could see in his eyes that he was already hunting for the words he’d need to turn her down for lack of collateral.

Ahnna waited for the tea to be delivered, then said to her guards, “Wait outside. It’s difficult to enjoy my reading while you both are staring at me.”

Seeming to deem the windowless room devoid of threat, they obliged, and Ahnna wedged a chair beneath the handle before going to the cabinets. It had been an age since she’d picked a lock, but with a pair of pins pulled from her hair, Ahnna opened the cabinet embossed with the Ashford crest. In typical Harendellian style, it was well organized, and she swiftly found the document with the transactions done by the crown.

She trailed a finger down, shaking her head at the shocking amount of money Edward borrowed, including the interest paid, funding an incredible range of items. But while she saw the repairs to the Victoria listed, no other ships had been commissioned by the crown in the past two years. None of the other recent records gave her any clues to competition for the bridge, and she carefully filed it all back with a muttered curse.

Then her eye fell on the cabinet embossed with the letter A. “Ashford,” she murmured, picking the lock. Sure enough, there were files for accounts for every member of the royal family. She skimmed over the last several years of Alexandra’s account records. The queen received income from multiple properties and an allowance from the crown, and she had also gotten substantial payments from several jewelers in recent years. She funneled a great deal of money to William, but the rest was all endowments and expenditures appropriate for a queen. Virginia spent all her allowance on dresses, jewels, and cosmetics, though she also donated generously to the conservatory. James, as it turned out, was wealthy. Not by virtue of being given more than anyone else, but by what seemed extreme frugalness, the only recent expense of note to a tailor, which was likely to replace his lost wardrobe.

Lastly, she turned to William. Who was, she swiftly determined, almost broke. He spent an incredible amount of money on just about anything one could possibly imagine, all entertainment, except every week for several months, he’d paid a modest amount to someone by the name of C.F. The payments stopped over a year ago. Frowning, she summed the amounts, which added to a significant value, the amount triggering recognition in her.

Flipping back through the pages, she summed the amount Alexandra had deposited in William’s accounts.

The amount was the same. And it matched the amount that she’d been paid by the jewelers. If Ahnna had to speculate, the queen had sold off jewelry in order to pay someone William owed money to.

“What did he buy?” She shut the cabinet, her eyes going to the one embossed with C. But before she could open it, the door rattled.

“My lady?” the banker called through. “Your Highness?”

Why was he back already? Fucking Harendellian efficiency!

“Oh dear!” she called, pretending to jiggle the handle. “The lock seems jammed.”

Scanning the room to ensure that everything was in order, she leaned against the door and kicked the chair back next to the desk. Jiggling the handle again, she then wrenched the door open with such force it rebounded off the wall and nearly struck the banker as he hurried inside. “It was stuck,” she declared. “Do you have everything in order?”

“I have good news,” he announced. “We are willing to advance the amount, for indeed, we have determined that Harendell is sufficient collateral.”

Ahnna struggled to keep a straight face, knowing that it had more to do with them not wanting to anger the future queen. “Wonderful.”

But as she left the lending house with the records for a line of credit she’d never need, her mind was whirling. She’d not found evidence that the crown was pursuing other alliances, but Ahnna now had reason to believe that Queen Alexandra Ashford was up to something she did not wish Edward to know about.