“The message we intercepted describes the details of your fight with Captain Roden. There were likely others before it.”
“Let it be sent,” I said. “And follow it. I want to know who Conner is talking to.”
“As you command,” Harlowe said. “My king, Drylliad will stand until your safe return.”
To which I only lowered my eyes. When I raised them again, Amarinda was staring at me with her brows pressed together in concern. She opened her mouth to say something, but Kerwyn spoke first.
“Your Majesty, I won’t bother with protesting about the risks you’re taking,” he said tiredly. “I know it never does any good. But if you intend to do this, then there is something we must discuss. We’ll do everything we can to protect you, but —”
“It’s a trap for me, I know.”
Kerwyn leaned forward. “After your family’s deaths, Carthya nearly fell into civil war. You cannot leave without naming an heir.”
Nodding at the princess, I said, “It should be Amarinda, naturally.”
But she shook her head. “A Carthyan must be named as successor. Not me.”
“That’s ridiculous. You might not have been born here, but you’re as Carthyan as I am.”
“I’m here to seal the treaty between our countries, nothing more,” she said softly. “Your people will accept me as the wife of their king, but not as their sole ruler.”
“Though you are both young, there is another possibility.” Kerwyn’s tone was cautious now, careful not to push too hard. “If you were to marry, should anything happen to the king, Amarinda would automatically retain the throne as queen. Nobody could question her rule then.”
Amarinda and I looked at each other, startled by a suggestion neither of us had considered and certainly weren’t prepared to answer. There had been other royals who had married at even younger ages than we were now, and usually at desperate times like those we now faced. But this was so sudden. I knew I had to say something, and say it quickly. And yet the words were stuck in my throat.
By then I had hesitated too long and Amarinda spoke first. “None of that will be necessary because Jaron will come back from this.”
“Maybe I won’t.” It was foolish to pretend otherwise. And Carthya needed a ruler. “We should marry,” I said to Amarinda. “Tonight. To preserve your reign.”
With my reluctant acceptance of Kerwyn’s suggestion, all eyes went to Amarinda. She stared at me in shock, and then said quietly, “The king and I need a few minutes alone.”
With respectful bows, the room emptied. I took her hand, but stared at it rather than dare look her in the eye. Things had been so easy for us since I had returned from the pirates. But with the prospect of marriage so suddenly here, all the awkwardness had returned.
“I know this isn’t what you want, or the way you want it,” I said. “But if we don’t do this, you will become obligated to the person I choose as heir to the throne. That’s not fair to you, not again.”
“But you will return.” I shrugged in response and kept my gaze downward. With an unsteady voice, she added, “Jaron, do you expect to die in this war?”
My thumb brushed over hers. Not for the first time, I wondered how her skin could be so soft. Then I said, “With the kind of threat we’re facing, I will fight to the death before I surrender. And I don’t see a path to victory.”
“But you’ll find a way. You always do.”
“Maybe Carthya will come through this. But mine has never been the kind of life that leads to old age.” She squeezed my hand, and I added, “I know the feelings aren’t there that we’d want for a marriage. But we should make your title official.” I couldn’t help but grin. “And if I don’t return, there’ll be more room on the throne for you.”
She wasn’t amused. “Stop that! Your death is not a joke to me!” She drew in a deep breath, then continued, “Whatever feelings we share, you are important to me, and to all of Carthya.”
I appreciated that, though her words spoke all too clearly of her feelings. She had very carefully said that while we were friends, she did not love me.
Then Amarinda placed her other hand over mine. “Tell me about Roden. I know the fight between you wasn’t real.”
Amused, I arched an eyebrow. “How did you know?”
“You’re only angry with him in public. Mott knows the full story, I assume.”
“He does. And I would’ve told you, except it might have forced you to lie to the regents, and I couldn’t ask that.”
“Why did you stage that fight?”
“Someone will report it back to Vargan — maybe that’s who Conner is communicating with. If I can’t make myself look stronger than I am, then I’ll do the opposite.”
She looked frustrated with that idea, but it had worked for me before, and anyway, the time to debate the wisdom of this plan had passed. She asked, “So where is Roden, really?”
I sighed, relieved to be able to discuss this with her. And yet, speaking the words reminded me of the near impossibility of what I’d asked him to do. “He’s up north, on our border with Gelyn,” I said. “With forty of our best men, Roden’s job is to overtake Gelyn’s garrison there, then stop their army from coming through.”
“But, they’ll never succeed! Give up the border and bring Roden back. He and Mott can go after Imogen.”
I frowned. “Why not me? Why is my life more valuable than theirs?”
“The value in your lives is the same, Jaron. But not the value in your roles.” Amarinda’s grip on my hand tightened. “I think of Imogen as dearly as if she were my own sister, you know that. But if you get anywhere near that camp, you will hand yourself over to them and this war will be lost before it’s begun. It must not be you who goes.”
Her gaze bored into me until I finally looked away. She was right, and so was Mott — despite my arguing, I knew that. A pit formed in my gut at the thought of not being there to ensure Imogen was safe, but these last few weeks, I had tried to be better at taking counsel from others. It wasn’t a natural instinct to me, and the idea of having people in my life whom I could truly trust was something new. But the alternative, of acting entirely on my own judgment, had taught me several painful lessons that I had no interest in repeating. So I looked back at her and nodded. I would not go after Imogen.
Amarinda thanked me, and then smiled. “War is ahead, Jaron, and we know what risks that involves. But we must believe all will end well. Our plans for marriage will remain the same.”
I wished I could be as optimistic as her, but the reality of what lay ahead pressed in on me from every side. “No, they won’t.” I gazed steadily into her eyes, wide with concern. “I release you from the betrothal, Amarinda. You and I will still marry, but only if that’s your choice. Not because of any agreement between our two countries or any obligation you were born to fulfill, but if you can love me. However, Kerwyn was right before. Something may go wrong in this war . . . for me.”
“Then you must choose the next king.” Amarinda was trying to hide the edge in her voice, but it wasn’t working. “Am I betrothed to him now, or am I nothing to Carthya?”
