The Inadequate Heir, page 2
The letter she’d received from the Empress containing the orders was hidden in an inner pocket of her uniform, and it took a great deal of self-control not to take out the heavy piece of stationery, the power it granted her making her blood boil with anticipation. Making her want to reach for the knife belted at her side, the opportunity to enact the revenge she’d sought for nearly a decade so close she could almost taste it. Especially with Vencia only a half day’s sail away.
A shout filtered down from the lookout above, and a heartbeat later, the captain of the ship was at her cousin’s elbow. “General, there is a fleet on the horizon.”
“How many?”
“Fifteen, at least, sir.”
“Hmm.” Her cousin pulled a spyglass from his belt, Zarrah doing the same.
Since the Ithicanians had sided with the Maridrinians and broken the Valcottan blockade on Southwatch, her cousin’s fleet had been patrolling the Ithicanian coast, gleefully sinking any Maridrinian ship that came in range even while it protected the Valcottan merchant vessels risking the violent seas to bypass Ithicana’s bridge. They’d had a few glorious skirmishes with the Maridrinian navy, but their murderous prick of a king, Silas Veliant, seemed content to use his forces to protect his own merchant vessels running the gap to Southwatch.
Except judging from the flags flying on the ships racing in Zarrah’s direction, that was about to change.
Her pulse throbbed, her weapons begging to be drawn, to be drenched in Maridrinian blood. Vaguely, she heard her cousin give the orders to sound the alarm and ready for battle, her ears ringing a heartbeat later as the bells jangled, the dozen ships that formed Bermin’s fleet echoing them.
Soldiers poured onto the deck from below, men and women armed to the teeth and ready to fight, and Zarrah pulled loose her staff, lifting it into the air. “Perhaps fortune will smile on us today and there will be a Veliant princeling aboard,” she shouted. “And when we are through, we’ll sail back to Nerastis with the vermin dangling from the mainmast by his entrails!”
The soldiers roared, lifting their own weapons to the sky, all eyes fixed on the approaching fleet.
Laughing, Zarrah lifted her spyglass. But her heart skipped, anticipation washed away by concern even as those in the crow’s nest shouted warnings.
Not fifteen ships, as had originally been counted, but many more. Twenty. Thirty.
And though they must have caught sight of the Valcottan fleet by now, they weren’t moving into position to attack. “Cousin …”
Bermin didn’t answer, so she twisted to grab him, her hand looking like a child’s against his massive forearm. “Look! They’re bypassing us.”
All around her, soldiers paused in their preparations and moved to the rail, eyes on the fleet that was upwards of fifty ships, all sailing wide of the Valcottan fleet and heading north.
“Where are they going?” someone muttered.
But Zarrah knew. The Empress had said this moment was inevitable—it was only a matter of when and how. Yet knowing didn’t lessen the shock. “They’re attacking Ithicana.”
Bermin made a sound of agreement, then rested his elbows on the rail, a slight smile curving his round cheeks.
“We must engage.” Zarrah’s heart thundered in her chest. “Disrupt the attack!”
Bermin ignored her. “Stand down.”
The alarm bells went silent, no one on deck speaking a word.
She rounded on him. “They’re stabbing Ithicana in the back! We need to engage and send warning to Southwatch.”
“No.” Her cousin’s word rolled across the deck like thunder.
“We have to!” The words came out breathy as panic rose in Zarrah’s chest. Silas Veliant wouldn’t commit this many ships to an attack unless he was certain of victory. And if Ithicana fell, it would mean the bridge and all its wealth in Maridrinian hands. In her enemy’s hands.
“You bed down with snakes, you must expect to be bitten,” her cousin answered. “The Empress saw this and warned the Ithicanian king, but he seemed more content to listen to the snake in his bed.”
The soldiers around them laughed. Zarrah did not. “Our ship is faster. We can beat them to Southwatch and warn them. If Ithicana knows the Maridrinians are coming, they’ll at least have a chance of repelling them.”
“And risk having them fire their shipbreakers at us? I think not. And as it is, the Empress was specific that if this were to come to pass, we were not to interfere.” Her cousin motioned to the captain. “Set sail for Nerastis. It might be the Rat King has left himself exposed, and we must capitalize upon the opportunity.”
As alluring as that opportunity was, Zarrah knew what would happen if they allowed this. Had seen the results of Maridrinian raids before, burned homes and slaughtered civilians and orphaned children, and the sickening helplessness she felt every time she came too late to stop it churned in her guts. The same helplessness she’d felt ten years ago when Silas Veliant had murdered her mother and left Zarrah for dead.
“We must act!” Cold coils of panic filled her guts. “If they take Ithicana, it will be a massacre. Not just soldiers, but families. Children! We must intervene.”
The soldiers within earshot shifted uneasily at her words, their eyes moving to the fleet, every last one of them familiar with the outcome of a Maridrinian attack. But her cousin only shrugged. “It is not our concern. Ithicana spit upon our friendship, and now they will pay the price.”
Except it wasn’t Ithicana’s people who deserved to pay.
The letter in her pocket giving her the authority to take command burned like fire, but her aunt had been specific: say nothing until you are returned to Nerastis.
Zarrah’s mind warred with the order, with her desire to do something, anything, to stop what was about to happen to Ithicana. “Cousin, please. King Aren may have spit on our friendship, but it will be his people—innocents who had nothing to do with that decision—who will pay the ultimate price. For them, we should do this.”
Bermin only shook his head. “Let this be motivation for Ithicana to choose a better king.” Then he roared, “Now set sail!”
Ignore your orders and take command, her conscience screamed. Stop this!
But instead, Zarrah only watched in silence as the Maridrinian fleet passed, heading north toward Ithicana’s destruction.
INSIDE THE BRIDGE, the air was thick and damp, the smell filling his nose that of mildew and manure, along with something Keris couldn’t quite name. Like petrichor, but different. Unique.
“It’s the material the bridge is made from,” Raina said, answering his unasked question. “It creates a distinct odor. Outsiders always wrinkle their noses when they step inside.”
Outsiders. Like there was Ithicana and then there was everyone else. “It’s quite … intense.” It was the kindest word he could part with.
“Count yourself lucky, Your Highness. When the Harendellians run cattle, it smells like shit for weeks, which is about how long it takes to clean up the mess.”
“Surely a warrior such as yourself isn’t relegated to such a task?” Given the mystery surrounding the Bridge Kingdom and its people, Keris had no reason to be sure about anything they did, but he found that compliments loosened tongues.
Raina’s mouth, which was the only part of her face that was visible, curved into a smile. “I did a year of it when I was sixteen. It’s considered something of a rite of passage.”
Keris cocked one eyebrow. “What does it prove besides adeptness with a shovel?”
“If the answer isn’t obvious, then you likely wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
She bit at her bottom lip, and Keris found his eyes drawn to her mouth, fascinated with how the uncertainty of the act juxtaposed the ferocity of the rest of her. “It demonstrates you are willing to do what it takes to prove your loyalty and earn the trust and respect of the king and the commanders.”
“If so much could be gained from shoveling animal feces, then stable boys would be revered. And yet I’ve not found that to be the case,” he replied, testing the waters to see if pricking her pride would cause her to reveal anything interesting.
But Raina was not easily baited. She glanced at the caravan traveling behind them. “Ithicana is a nation built on secrets, and one must earn the right to know them.”
Secrets that the world was desperate to know, none more so than Keris’s father. King Silas Veliant had what could only be described as an obsession with Ithicana’s bridge. With its secrets. Its profits.
With possessing it himself.
And while Maridrina and Ithicana were ostensibly allies, Keris wasn’t of the opinion that his father would let that get in his way if the opportunity arose to snatch the coveted bridge from Ithicana’s hands. Loyalty and trustworthiness were not attributes Keris would ascribe to his father any more than he would sentimentality. Though if the rumors he’d heard were true, Keris’s sister, Lara, was different.
Or pretending to be.
“Has my sister earned the right to those secrets?” Keris bit the inside of his cheeks the moment the question came out. Stay out of it, he silently screamed at himself. The less you know, the better.
“Depends on who you ask.”
It was a shame his good sense never ceased to be silenced by his curiosity. “I’m asking you. Forgive my questions; it’s only that I know little of my younger sister. We were raised apart.”
“I’ve heard.” Raina switched the lantern she carried to the other hand. “Why is that?”
“To protect her from the Valcottans,” Keris answered, though he knew that to be a lie. There was nowhere more well guarded than his father’s harem in Vencia. Lara had been taken away for another reason. Another purpose.
And it was only a matter of time before that purpose revealed itself.
“She’s very beautiful.” Raina cast a sideways glance at him. “She looks like you, Your Highness, if you don’t object to me saying so. You have the same eyes.”
Veliant blue. In all likelihood, Keris inheriting his father’s eye color was the only reason he hadn’t been labeled a bastard and cast aside. Whether that was a blessing or a curse, Keris wasn’t entirely certain. “That doesn’t tell me what she’s like.”
“She makes His Grace very happy.”
Keris smirked. “You’re only saying that because I’m Maridrinian, which means that I must think the sum of a woman is whether she makes men happy.”
The corners of her mouth turned up. “Am I wrong?”
“Oh, yes. I’m far more selfish than you’re giving me credit for—I only care if they make me happy.”
She laughed, a high tinkling sound like wind chimes on a summer day, the echoes of it filling the dark expanse of the bridge, making Keris smile.
Then his father’s voice echoed through his thoughts: Rest assured that I will find a way to use you to my benefit, and his smile fell away.
“Are you well, Your Highness?”
“Quite,” Keris said, and then belied his own words by walking a little faster.
KERIS LEANED AGAINST the inside of the bridge, watching the flickering flame of a lantern. He was exhausted from a day’s worth of walking, but unlike his snoring entourage, he couldn’t fall asleep on the bedroll the Ithicanians had provided.
Sleep never came easily to him, especially when he wasn’t alone or protected by solid walls and a locked door. He’d been stabbed in the back—literally—too many times for that. Such was the nature of being a Maridrinian prince, the sheer number of brothers ensuring constant jockeying for position, which often meant eliminating the competition. Keris had survived this long because his brothers hadn’t perceived him as a threat, choosing instead to murder the best warriors and most ambitious politicians among them. It had all worked very well until the last of his elder brothers had been killed, leaving Keris as heir, whether he wanted to be or not. And the heir was always the greatest target of all.
The slight scuff of boots caught his attention, and he looked up to see Raina step into the pool of lantern light from where she’d been standing guard farther up the bridge tunnel. She stopped next to a sleeping Ithicanian, shaking him awake. The man rose without hesitation, buckling his weapons on as he walked to take the place she’d vacated. The other Ithicanians keeping watch did the same—a finely oiled machine that ensured nothing happened in the bridge that Ithicana did not see.
Raina’s eyes landed on him. “You should rest, Your Highness. We’ve many more days of walking, and if you can’t keep the pace, I’ll have to ask you to ride with your friends.”
Keris wrinkled his nose, casting a sideways glance at the unconscious group of men. “They aren’t my friends.” He didn’t have friends.
Unbuckling her sword belt, Raina sat on the ground with her legs crossed, weapon resting on her knees. “Who are they, then?”
“They are what my father deems suitable company.”
“If the ability to imbibe an immense amount of wine is what it takes to be deemed suitable, they are excellent choices indeed.”
His entourage had drank and gambled through the entire day, their laughter raucous and grating, although they’d kept to Ithicana’s rules. “I can’t blame them. This is a terrible way to travel. Walking in the damp and the dark, eating cold food, sleeping on the ground. Never mind the cost in gold.”
Raina’s teeth gleamed white in the lantern light as she smiled. “Pay us or pay the tempests, Highness. Every traveler has a choice.”
“Are the storms really so bad?” They were violent and unpredictable enough along the northern coast of Maridrina, but there were dozens of harbors with storm walls and breakwaters to protect ships from the worst of the onslaught.
She made a soft noise of confirmation. “It is said the bottom of the Tempest Seas gleams with the gold spilled by a hundred thousand sunken ships, and that the treasure is guarded by the countless souls sucked beneath the waves, their greedy fingers always reaching up for more.”
“Then I’ll count my good fortune to have solid stone beneath my feet.” He knocked a fist against the bridge floor. “Even if it makes my back ache.”
The Ithicanian who was standing guard nearest to them coughed, and Keris noted how Raina’s shoulders jerked, her head turning toward the man. Not startled but guilty, fraternization between the Ithicanians and those they were escorting being strongly discouraged.
“It’s late.” She moved to the pallet the other Ithicanian had vacated, pulling the blanket over her shoulders. “You should rest.”
Keris didn’t answer, only picked up the book next to him, angling it toward the light. He was close, so painfully close to escape. When he was on Harendellian soil, he’d be away from his father’s influence.
And only then would he sleep easily.
KERIS ONLY CAUGHT fits and snatches of sleep through the night, yet again he chose not to ride in the travel wagons but to walk, each step he put between himself and his father like a weight lifted off his chest, each passing hour filling him with more confidence that this wasn’t an elaborate ruse to put him in his place. Another way to bring him low.
To temper his boredom, he examined the interior of the bridge and those who traveled it. The strange stone the structure was made from was smooth and uniform, the only marks the numbers stamped into the floor that appeared to mark distance. Keris counted the paces between them, the consistent number of steps suggesting that they measured distance traveled within the bridge, which snaked and wove between the islands and piers it rested on, rather than the actual linear distance traveled north, making it impossible to determine precisely where in Ithicana they were.
Despite it being the calm season, there was more traffic than he anticipated, the bray of donkeys and the thud of boots rivaling the groaning draft of wind that filled the endless tunnel. Dozens of wagons, some in long convoys, passed by, and while most were loaded with goods being transported from Northwatch to Southwatch by the Ithicanians, there were some with travelers from other nations, predominantly Harendellians. Regardless, the wagons were always escorted by heavily armed Ithicanians, the eyes behind their masks watchful, their hands quick to their weapons at any sudden movements. Only once was his party passed from behind, a group of twelve Ithicanians who eyed Keris’s entourage with interest before jogging ahead, not one of them uttering a single word.
Likely as a result of her comrade’s scrutiny, Raina avoided him for most of the day, but late that night, after she’d returned from watch and curled up on her bedroll, he heard her murmur, “Is it true you’re going to Harendell to study at university?”
Aware that the Ithicanian standing only a dozen paces away could hear the conversation, Keris said, “Yes. It’s long been a dream of mine, though my father only recently agreed to it. We’re both happier to see less of each other, and if I am in Harendell, he need not see me at all.”
“Why?”
“Why do I wish to go to university or why do my father and I not see eye to eye?” Not waiting for a response, he said, “The answer to both is the same: I prefer books to swords.”
Her tone was wistful as she said, “You aren’t alone in that.”
“In having an odious father or in having a fondness for large libraries?”
“Both.” She curled an arm under her head, eyes glinting from behind her mask. “My father was a Watch Commander until recently, so there was never any other option than me picking up a sword.”
“I’m not certain there is any other option for me, in the long run. At some point, I’ll have to come back and take up the fight against Valcotta.”
That endless, pointless war.
Raina traced a finger along the ground, and he noticed that she was closer to him than the prior night. Close enough to touch, though he did not. And would not.
Her hand stopped moving, and for a moment, he thought she’d fallen asleep. Then she said, “When you are king, you will have the power to end the war, if you want.”
Keris laughed softly, knowing it sounded bitter. “War is easy. It’s peace that is the challenge. An Ithicanian should know that better than anyone.”
