Of course his father wanted something from him. He wouldn’t allow Keris to go without making him pay a price. “What will it be, Father? Spying on the Harendellians, I assume?”
He chuckled, and the sound made Keris’s skin crawl. Then his father released his shoulders. “No, Keris. I’ve spies aplenty. But rest assured that I will find a way to use you to my benefit.” And without another word, he strode up the gangplank and disappeared onto the ship.
Not spying, but something. And whatever it was, Keris knew he wouldn’t like it.
The old Ithicanian still stood a few paces away, waiting patiently. “If you’d follow me, Your Highness, we will get underway. We have restrictions on what is allowed through the bridge, which means all persons and baggage are subject to search. And”—his eyes flicked to the stacks of chests and to Keris’s entourage—“that might take more time than anticipated.”
Hours was what it took, the Ithicanians removing them to a stone warehouse where everything was thoroughly searched before being loaded into narrow wagons. And though Keris had watched his father’s ship sail away, he couldn’t shirk the sense that something would happen that would see him not in Harendell, but back in Maridrina, once again immersed in a war he wanted no part of. A war he was opposed to on every possible level.
“They ready?”
A female voice caught his attention, and Keris lifted his face from the book he was reading to find an Ithicanian woman striding into the warehouse, several other armed Ithicanians on her heels. She was tall and lean, her dark-brown hair shaved on the sides of her head and the rest pulled back into a long tail at the back. She wore the drab greyish-green tunic and trousers that the Ithicanians favored, her thick leather boots rising to her knees and a multitude of weapons belted at her waist. Her arms were bare except for the vambraces buckled around them, her skin tanned but for the few pale scars lining it that suggested she was no stranger to combat. Like the rest of her countrymen, she wore a leather mask, making it difficult to guess her age with any certainty, but Keris doubted she was more than twenty.
The old Ithicanian nodded. “Their luggage is in order. An overabundance of drink, but they assure me it is for the journey, not to sell.” His jaw tightened. “Their… conduct gives verity to the claim.”
“Lovely. There is nothing I like better than escorting drunk Maridrinian pricks.”
Keris laughed.
Her head jerked sideways, gaze lighting upon Keris where he leaned against the wall, far away from his companions.
After coughing to clear his throat, the old Ithicanian said, “This is Crown Prince Keris Veliant. The Queen’s elder brother.”
The woman inclined her head. “My apologies, Your Highness. I regret you overhearing my comment.”
But she did not regret saying it. Keris liked her already. “Given I’m quite sober, I assume you’re delighted to escort me.”
Her hazel eyes flickered with amusement. “Sober… but you are a Maridrinian.”
“And a prick, as luck would have it.” He smirked at her. “I hope your king pays you well.”
“Not well enough.” She gestured toward his entourage. “If you’ll join your companions, Highness, you’ll be searched for weapons, and then we’ll be on our way.”
Keris made no comments as one of the soldiers accompanying her searched him from head to toe for weapons, pulling off his boots and inspecting their soles, the man’s efficiency suggesting he’d done this a hundred times and knew his business well. Keris’s entourage, on the other hand, snickered and laughed through the whole affair, making comments that had Keris grinding his teeth. He was on the verge of shouting at them to shut their damned mouths when one of them said to the Ithicanian woman, who was kneeling while searching him, “You look well practiced in this position, girl.”
Every Ithicanian in the room went still, their anger palpable even to the fools in his entourage, whose faces quickly drained of humor.
Shit.
The Ithicanian woman’s jaw had visibly tightened, but she said nothing as she finished her search. Then she stood abruptly, her shoulder catching the idiot between the legs hard enough that he screamed. Toppling over, he lay on his side, cursing and moaning while he clutched his groin.
The woman turned to the old Ithicanian, snapping, “There a Maridrinian ship in port, Rin?”
“Two.”
“Good. Pick one and tell them they’re taking His Highness and his men back to Vencia. Passage through the bridge is denied.”
Keris’s stomach dropped, panic rushing through his veins. He’d known this would happen. That his father would find some way to go back on his word.
“Raina.” The old man’s voice was disapproving. “Prince Keris is Queen Lara’s brother.”
Her eyes flicked to Keris, looking him up and down. “We’ll take him, then. But not the rest.”
It was tempting. Oh so terribly tempting to take the woman up on her offer and go through the bridge alone, but Keris knew his father would make him pay for such a decision. He always did.
“I’m sorry for his disrespect.” Walking over to the woman—Raina—Keris stopped a courteous distance from her. “He’s a fool, but he doesn’t deserve to die.”
“I didn’t hit him that hard.” Her voice was withering. “He’ll live.”
“Not if you send him back.” Keris lifted one shoulder. “My father tolerates embarrassment poorly. The unfortunate sot will be dead within an hour of making port unless he finds the courage to jump overboard on the journey back.”
“Perhaps he should have considered the consequences before he spoke.”
“I doubt he’s capable of that much foresight.” Keris glanced at the men, who were silent for once, and he could see in their eyes that they knew the threat was real. Not only to the idiot on the ground, but to all of them. “They won’t step out of line again; you have my word.”
She exhaled a long breath, rocking on her heels. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“We will be on our best behavior.”
Even with her mask, he saw her eyes roll. But she gestured to the wagons. “Get in.”
His entourage scurried toward the traveling wagons, polished affairs with well-upholstered seating that were pulled by pairs of mules. Comfortable enough, but far too close in quarters for Keris’s liking. “Do you mind if I walk?”
Raina shrugged. “Be my guest.”
The caravan creaked into motion, nine more heavily armed Ithicanians flanking the wagons as they trundled out of the warehouse and into the light rain. Raina led the way, and Keris followed at her heels, his eyes going up the slope to the cavernous mouth of the bridge. Mist emanated from the grey stone as the rain struck it, and as they approached, a heavy steel portcullis rose, the rattling of chains rivaling the distant rumble of thunder.
Raina cast her face skyward, the rain splattering against her mask. “Be glad you chose not to go by ship, Your Highness.”
Keris eyed the dark opening, the steel bars of the bottom of the portcullis looking remarkably like teeth. “Why is that?”
“Because there’s a storm coming.” Then, taking a glowing lantern from one of the waiting guards, she led Keris inside the bridge.