Page 7

James stared bleary-eyed at the chip in his teacup, one of the few pieces not to have smashed during the storm. Beneath the last drops of reddish-brown liquid, the leaves stirred, and he looked away to avoid reading the signs. Too late, for his eyes had already picked out the pattern.

Strife.

As if he didn’t know that.

He tossed the dregs overboard, and not for the first time, James regretted learning the customs of the Cardiffian side of his family. His mother’s family. When he was a boy, his father had sent him in secret to live for weeks on end with his mother’s brothers, Ronan and Cormac. His uncle Cormac had taught him to see the stories of his ancestors in the stars. To read the future in leaves in a cup. To believe God an amusing fabrication of southerners.

It was the last that formed the wedge between Cardiff and Harendell, the wedge between his father’s people and his mother’s. For while Cardiff cared little for whom or what Harendell chose to worship, the opposite was not the case, and Harendell had tried to force religion on Cardiff’s people countless times.

It always ended in violence. War.

Strife.

Which is why James had proposed to both his father and his uncle a different way of achieving peace: appealing to something that both nations worshiped in equal measure.

Wealth.

And they’d been well on their way to achieving it until the message had arrived from Ithicana requesting fulfillment of the terms of the Fifteen-Year Treaty. Now everything that James had fought to achieve was at risk of falling apart.

James stared into the waves, but instead of seeing the whitecaps, all he saw was Ahnna suspended in the water, hand reaching out to the shark. He silently cursed his father for not breaking off William’s engagement to her. Our relationship with Ithicana is old and secure, whereas our relationship with Cardiff is new and delicate, his father’s voice repeated in his thoughts. I won’t risk jeopardizing one for the sake of the other. Not when we can have both.

Both seemed less and less a possibility after having spoken to Ahnna, for there was no doubt in James’s mind that she intended to capitalize on her position to keep trade flowing south through the bridge, the religion of wealth as much shared by Ithicana as by Harendell and Cardiff.

“Fuck,” he muttered, scowling at the surf.

“My thoughts exactly,” Georgie said from behind him. “I just spoke with our dear Captain Drake.”

James glanced to the quarterdeck where the man in question stood. Drake had hidden below while Ahnna and the crew had sailed the Victoria through the storm.

“The captain wishes to make port in Sableton and avail himself of the shipyards there rather than pressing on in a damaged ship to make port in Elmsworth.” Georgie rested his elbows on the rail and looked out at the coastline. “Seems he doesn’t have the nerve for Ithicanian sailing.”

“Do any of us?”

“That we do not, my friend. Once in a lifetime was enough for me. I was murderously seasick but too terrified to vomit. Misery, I tell you. Misery of the purest form.”

“Could’ve been worse.”

“Debatable. A good melee with the Amaridians would have been far more honorable than clinging for dear life to my washstand, which was the only thing in the room bolted down. On that note, we’re taking inventory, but many of our supplies were ruined with seawater, so expect lean pickings until we make port.”

“Perhaps not entirely lean.” James jerked his chin to the old Ithicanian man who’d accompanied Ahnna. Jor was currently leaning against the rail of the ship with a rod, a bucket containing three large fish next to his feet.

“Good God, they are feral, aren’t they?” Georgie muttered. “I swear if we cast the lot of them into the sea, they’d harness a whale to ride to shore ahead of us.”

James snorted softly, then sipped at the fresh cup of tea one of the servants had poured. “I think pragmatic is the word. Ithicana is harsh, and I suspect those who sit on their asses fare poorly.”

“Ithicana is as rich as sin, Jamie. The biggest market makers in the known world. They don’t need to live wild. They choose to. They aren’t like us. She isn’t like us.”

There was no denying that, yet James said, “Show some respect for the woman who saved your neck.”

Rather than being even remotely chastised, Georgie eyed him with interest. “Firstly, my good man, you always seem to think I speak my own views when in fact I speak the views of those whose opinions actually matter. Secondly, what do said views on the princess matter to you? You’re not the one who has to marry her.”

“Courtesy.” James scowled. “What sort of gentleman can I claim to be if I allow slanderous words to be spoken of the princess who is not only in my care but who has saved my life? Twice.”

“Three times,” Georgie corrected with a smile. “Since you’re keeping count.”

Three times. Whereas he had stayed at the wheel when she’d nearly gone overboard, leaving Ahnna to save herself. Shame burned in James’s stomach, and he reverted his gaze to his cup. That it had been the right move was not in question, and Ahnna herself had absolved him, but he was still haunted by his lack of action while she dangled over the seas, fighting for her life.

“While I know you ape at being a gentleman better than most,” Georgie said with a chuckle, “we both know you’ve little claim to the word. And you’ve not historically put on the pretense around me. You’re a soldier, first, and a courtier only under duress, so don’t think to fool me with talk of courtesy. ” His friend then slapped his thigh sharply and exclaimed, “Don’t tell me you admire her?”

“Certainly not.” James handed off his teacup to a passing servant lest he look at the dregs again, feeling his cheeks heat with embarrassment. “However, I do respect her, soldier-to-soldier.”

He chafed under Georgie’s scrutiny, but his friend only shrugged. “That I believe, though I am disappointed. It would’ve been amusing for you to be the one involved in a scandal for once.”

“I was born a scandal,” James replied sourly. “No need to make things worse.”

“You know I feel differently, but I’ve reconciled that particular matter to be a point of contention within our friendship,” Georgie said. “What’s more, the lady in question approaches, so time for you to ape the gentleman once more.”

Several appropriate retorts rose to James’s lips, but he didn’t have time to deploy them before Ahnna was in earshot. She was moving stiffly, to which, given that every part of him ached from the strain of holding the wheel against the storm, James was sympathetic. “Good morning, Lady Ahnna.” He inclined his head, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Georgie bow low, murmuring, “Your Highness.”

“Good morning, my lords.” She accepted a cup of steaming tea, balancing the saucer with ease despite the motion of the ship. “No sign of the Amaridians?”

“They’d not dare sail so close to Harendell’s coastline, my lady,” Georgie said.

“I think we may need to reconsider our opinions of what they will and will not do.” Ahnna pushed her long hair, which was woven into a thick braid, back over her shoulder. Her hands were marked with scrapes and scabs, her cheek with a purple bruise—further injuries to add to the old scars already marking her body. “Have you put more thought as to why Queen Katarina is willing to risk so much to see you dead? Or why she believes she can pin your death on my brother?”

“To start a war between Ithicana and Harendell,” he said reflexively. “If my father believed Ithicana’s king had me killed, he’d come for blood. Which would mean pulling resources from the Lowlands, which would allow Amarid the opportunity to attempt to reclaim them. We’ve been warring with them over that territory for decades, so the chance to win it back is well worth the cost of a few ships.”

“Except what possible reason could Ithicana have for killing you?” she demanded. “Not to hurt your feelings, Your Highness, but you’re rarely more than a footnote in our spies’ reports because your role has always been focused on said conflict in the Lowlands, which is no concern of ours. We gain absolutely nothing from killing you, but we’d lose our most powerful ally in the north. It doesn’t make sense, and Queen Katarina would know such a ruse wouldn’t work on your father because there is no logical reason for Ithicana to want to harm you.”

Except that there was, but only if James’s ambitions were not as secret as he’d believed.

James’s heart lurched. If Ithicana learned that he was attempting to divert trade from the bridge to Cardiff, they would have grounds to want him dead. If Amarid intended to use that as grounds to frame Ithicana, it meant that Katarina knew about his role as mediator between his father and his uncle, and that…that was impossible. No one knew.

No one.

Ahnna’s eyes narrowed, and though he’d not allowed anything to show on his face, James knew his silence had spoken volumes. “What aren’t you saying?” she asked.

Georgie coughed. “It’s a delicate matter, my lady. Not fit for your ears.”

Ahnna’s brow furrowed in annoyance even as James looked to his friend in confusion, because he had no idea what Georgie was talking about.

“I’m a soldier, my lord,” Ahnna snapped. “I do not put much weight on propriety when lives are at stake.”

“Of course.” George gave a soft cough. “It concerns a recent fight that took place between His Highness and the Beast of Amarid. Prince Carlo Serrano.”

Oh, bloody hell.

“I know who the Beast is,” Ahnna said. “What happened?”

“A border skirmish.” James glared at Georgie. “Not justification for any of this.”

“Jamie, with respect, the man lost half of his capacity to father children because of your well-placed boot. I doubt there is anyone the Beast hates more than you. ”

“You kicked the Beast of Amarid in the balls?” Ahnna demanded. “And he lost a testicle?”

“This is not fit conversation,” James growled even as Georgie said, “That’s the sum of it. I was there, so I’m happy to reenact the fight if someone wishes to volunteer to play the Beast.”

Ahnna’s face filled with incredulity. “You think Katarina sent three ships and hundreds of men to kill you for revenge over her son’s testicle?”

Why did she insist on using that word? “No, I don’t—” James broke off, because while he didn’t believe that was the motivation, it was better than Ahnna digging deeper down a hole he wanted left unexplored. “Who can say? The Amaridians are proud people.”

“Yes, they are,” she replied, but James could see she was not convinced. “Which is why I’m surprised Carlo didn’t demand to have personal vengeance over his lost testicle.”

James squeezed the bridge of his nose, desperate to be away from this conversation even as Georgie declared, “Because he’s now possessed of only half his courage!”

Ahnna’s lips parted, but she was cut off by a shout from overhead, “Sableton on the horizon!” and instead looked toward the sea.

Within moments, the haze that was Harendell’s coastline appeared, and James heard Ahnna’s breath catch.

“I’ve seen it on maps,” she said. “But I’m not sure I ever appreciated how large it was until this moment. I’ve never traveled farther north than Emesmere Island, where I met with your father.”

They’d passed Emesmere just before dawn, the island being the southernmost landmass controlled by Harendell, most often used as a harbor of last resort, for there was nothing there but rock. Ahnna’s meeting with his father had been brief, and she’d worn a mask the entire time, which had delighted his father to no end. “You’ve never been to the continent?”

“I’ve never left Ithicana,” she answered. “Never needed to. Never wanted to.”

What changed? James wondered, because it had been Ithicana who’d abruptly pushed for a wedding date to be set. Ahnna had been of marriageable age for over a decade, yet Ithicana had seemed content to keep her. Why now?

The port city of Sableton grew, smoke rising from countless chimneys, the piers bustling with ships beyond counting. Yet even from here, James felt the shift from the wilds of Ithicana and the Tempest Seas to the pretense of civility that reigned over his homeland. And next to him, gooseflesh rose on Ahnna’s arm as though she felt it, too.

“How long will it take to journey to Verwyrd?”

“Two days by coach,” he answered, watching how the wind caught at the tendrils of hair that had come loose from her braid. “Longer if it rains and the highway turns to muck.”

“Is the Sky Palace as tall as they say?” There was a wistfulness in her voice that he’d not heard before, and he wondered if that was how she’d sounded before Silas and his daughter had brought war to Ithicana. When, according to Taryn, Ahnna had lost her humor.

“Touches the clouds,” James said.

The corner of her mouth turned up. “Of all the places in Harendell that I’ve read about, the Sky Palace of Verwyrd is the place I’ve desired to see the most.”

It was the first genuine smile he’d seen touch her face, and it had been elicited by the place that he hated most. The place of his birth. The place of his mother’s murder. Home to the Twisted Throne and to the people of equally twisted morals who fought for a piece of it. A place that would devour a woman like Ahnna Kertell. Yet all James said was, “Welcome to Harendell.”