Page 42

He should have said no .

Because it would have been better not to know.

Instead, James said, “I swear it.”

Sitting upright in his lap, Ahnna drew in a ragged breath. “Ithicana’s coffers are empty.”

He didn’t answer, because he’d already gathered as much, and while Virginia hadn’t gotten the story entirely right, his sister had been goddamned close.

“I know that other nations believe Ithicana is rich beyond sin,” she said. “But that’s never been even close to the truth. The truth is that to live off the land in the middle of the Tempest Seas requires ceaseless toil. Day in and day out, my people go to war against land and storm to bring home enough to feed their families, so for as long as living memory, the crown has used the bridge’s revenue to buy food and supplies from other nations, all of which is dispensed to the people in exchange for years of service. Everyone serves, in some capacity, and in exchange, they are given what they need to live a life worth living.”

The weight of her words sank down upon him, but James said nothing.

“When the Maridrinians invaded, they either took what they found back to Vencia or destroyed it,” Ahnna continued. “Homes reduced to rubble, vegetable plots sowed with salt, and fishing boats put to the torch. And that doesn’t begin to touch upon the harm done to the people. So many were hurt in ways one can never recover from, and they no longer have the means to toil day after day. So the bridge must provide.”

He didn’t want to hear this, but James forced himself to listen.

“Aren has drained the coffers dry,” she said softly. “Sold off nearly everything of value, including all of Lara’s jewelry except what she was wearing and what she sent with me. Sarhina is in no position to help, because Maridrina’s situation is even worse, and Zarrah is struggling to support them, for many Valcottans refuse to let old animosities go. But Harendell…Harendell is rich and strong and our oldest ally. The only nation capable of moving enough trade through the bridge to keep our people alive while they rebuild.”

It hurt to breathe.

James had known his and Ahnna’s goals were at odds, that Ithicana needed Harendell’s gold. What he hadn’t known was that her people risked starvation if they didn’t get it.

“Yet despite how badly Ithicana needs me here, Aren came to Verwyrd to try to make me come home when he heard about the wraithroot. That’s what we were arguing about.”

James winced, realizing how badly he’d misread the king’s intentions. How badly everyone had misread Aren Kertell’s sentiment toward his sister.

She wiped her face with her sleeve. “But I can’t go back. Not without your father demanding concessions from Aren that he can’t afford to make. So not only must I remain, but I must encourage Harendell to export more. To pay more. Because if I don’t, I’ll have failed my people again.”

“Again?” he made himself ask, needing to know the whole truth even though what he’d already heard made him feel sick to his stomach.

Ahnna was crying harder now, her sobs so fierce that she shook against him, instinct demanding that he pull her closer even though he had no right to touch her.

“The success of Silas’s attack was my fault,” she choked out. “I’m the one to blame.”

“No—” James started to argue, but Ahnna cut him off.

“Yes. I suspected Lara from the beginning,” she said between sobs. “She wasn’t anything like other Maridrinian noblewomen. She was head-to-toe muscle, her knuckles had scars from fighting, and she walked like a predator. Every instinct in me told me that she was dangerous, but I allowed myself to be convinced otherwise. After I almost got her killed, Aren would barely speak to me. I was so worried I’d turned him against me that I held my tongue and gave her my support when I should have stood my ground. My duty was to my people, and if I’d only trusted my instincts and dug deeper, we might have stopped the invasion. Instead, I only thought of myself.”

She was on the verge of hyperventilating, cheeks ghastly pale in the sunlight.

“When the end of the calm season is looming, Aren always sends me an invitation to Midwatch. We always celebrate it together. But he didn’t send for me. I was so upset that the night of the celebration, I got blindingly drunk. So drunk I passed out on the floor of my room at Southwatch. I have no idea how long the alarm bells sounded before they woke me, still so drunk I could barely stand.” She reached up to touch the scar on her face. “I found out later that in my drunkenness, I’d told my garrison not to bother with guard duty. That we were married to Maridrina, so we needed to get fully in bed with them. And they listened.”

Shit.

“The attack came from inside the bridge itself, so none of Southwatch’s defenses would have saved us,” she continued. “But if there’d been guards on duty, we wouldn’t have been caught unaware. If I hadn’t ordered all those casks of wine opened, my soldiers would have been sober enough to fight. Maybe, just maybe, if I hadn’t been only thinking of my hurt feelings, we would have held Southwatch and had a chance against Maridrina. I should have been the one to save my kingdom. Instead, I was the one who damned it.”

“The Maridrinians struck from multiple locations, with information you had no way to know they had,” he said, hating that she blamed herself for something that was not her fault. Harendell’s spies in Maridrina had learned a great deal about the plans after the fact. Ithicana had no chance. “Even if you’d posted double your usual guards, you might not have been able to stop them.”

Ahnna had stopped crying, her hazel eyes staring blindly into the dark corner of the cellar. “Everyone believes I hate Lara. That I blame her. But the truth is, when I look at her, all I see is my failure. And the hate I feel is for myself.”

He could see the truth in her eyes, the grief of guilt, and it cut out his heart because she was not to blame.

“Hate Silas,” he said. “And Katarina, for aiding him. It’s not fair for you to carry the blame for the actions of so many people.”

“I neither need nor want absolution.” She leaned into him, her skin cold against his chest. “Only for you to understand why I can’t be the one to break the treaty by going back to Ithicana.”

“I understand.” Understood all too well.

“It might all be for nothing, anyway,” she said. “Your people are accusing Ithicana of extorting unfair tolls while my brother sits on a throne of gold, and those rumors can’t be countered without admitting just how weak we are and how badly we need Harendell’s wealth. Aren thinks I’m making it worse. Maybe I am.”

“Those are old rumors that predate your arrival,” James muttered, though he’d noticed they were once again on the rise. An edge of unjust bitterness toward Ithicana that he’d attributed to his uncle and his agents trying to push merchants to look elsewhere for trade. “You didn’t cause them.”

Picking up his coat, he draped it over her icy body, knowing he should dress but unwilling to pull away from her right after she’d unveiled her broken heart.

The broken heart you’re about to grind your heel down upon, his conscience whispered. There was no arguing with it, for if his plan came to fruition, all the trade that Ithicana so desperately needed would go north to Cardiff. It was because of him that she’d fail in her goal, and that truth settled into his soul like poison. But if he backed away from his ambitions and the treaty between his father and uncle was never signed, how many more Cardiffians would burn as a result?

James didn’t know what he was going to do. Did not see a path through that didn’t cause harm.

What he did know was that in being intimate with Ahnna, he’d made everything a hundred times worse. That in listening to her confess, he’d ensured that the moment she understood he was her enemy, knowing she’d let him have her would be like poison to her soul. He couldn’t undo what had been done, but it could not happen again. It needed to end now.

“We need to get dressed,” he said quietly. “They’ll be searching for us.”

Ahnna didn’t answer, but she mechanically reached for her clothing. James averted his gaze, though in truth, fifty years from now, he’d still close his eyes and see the naked lines and curves of her body. Still hear the whisper of her breath and feel her hands on his skin. It might end now.

But she’d haunt his dreams forever.

Tucking in his shirt and buckling his belt, James eyed the setting sun, knowing it would get colder as night fell.

“I’ll light a fire,” he said, picking up pieces of fallen wood. “It will help them find us. There’s a flint in my coat pocket.”

Again, Ahnna didn’t answer, and when he turned around, it was to find her dressed but staring at the camisole he’d torn off her like an animal. More flickers of what he’d done filled his mind, and James cursed himself for treating her as he had. For allowing his baser instincts to take control.

Then she abruptly knelt before the wood, shoving the silk beneath it and extracting his flint and her knife. “Stinks when it burns,” she said, “but it lights more easily than damp wood.”

With far more proficiency than he would have shown, Ahnna lit the fire, nurturing it to a steady glow. She moved to hand him his coat, but he shook his head. “Keep it. I’m used to the cold.”

They sat next to the small blaze as night fell, the air growing cooler. The wolves that hunted the Ranges howled, his ears picking up the noise of them passing, lured by what he had no doubt was a large number of dead cattle.

Then Ahnna said, “I know this can’t happen again, but—” She drew in a breath. “—but I don’t want to lose you because we let it happen once.”

Being near her would be akin to an addict sitting next to a full opium pipe, and James knew it. The smart choice would be for him to leave Verwyrd until the treaty was signed and the truth came out. But as Ahnna’s icy fingers locked on his, James said, “I’m not going anywhere.”