Page 116 of The Twisted Throne

It was a bird skull, a small hole drilled in the top of it.

Cardiff.

Ahnna stared at the tiny skull in her palm, unease pooling in her stomach because Cardiffians wore skulls as part of their ceremonial garb. Someone from Cardiff had been in this throne room, and it had been for something important enough to risk wearing the symbols of astromancy.

Changing a deep-seated belief in Harendellian people is no simple task.Edward’s voice filled her head.

What would make them want to change?

The perfect storm.

All the pieces fell into place. Edward was, after all this time, making peace with Cardiff.

The revelation came with a stab of pain to her heart because James knew. James goddamned knew what his father was planning, and despite knowing, he’d…he’d…

The agony of it almost made her vomit, but Ahnna shoved aside the emotion and broke into a run. She needed to get a warning to Aren. Needed him to know that the rug was about to be pulled out from underneath him, because there was no doubt in her mind what sort of perfect storm would make the Harendellians let go of their right to persecute astromancy.

Edward intended for trade to flow north.

But just before she reached the doors, they opened, revealing Georgie and a dozen guards.

“You can make this easy or you can make it difficult, Ahnna,” he said. “Either way, you’re going back to your rooms.”

It took the rest ofthe night to cross the Ranges, but now James was moving at speed up the highway to Whitewood Hall, his thoughts no clearer than they’d been when he’d set out because none of the pieces quite fit together.

The Amaridians were trying to kill him—that could not be denied—and James was certain now that it was because Katarina knew he was at the center of negotiations between Cardiff and Harendell. United, the two nations would be a force far greater than Amarid, so it made sense that Katarina would desire to destroy or delay the negotiations from coming to fruition.

And yet the hardhanded tactic was out of character for Amarid’s queen, especially given that it was ill considered.

Assassinating him wouldn’t be grounds for an end of the negotiations. If anything, it would only drive his father and uncle together in the united purpose of revenge against Amarid, and Katarina had to know that. Which meant her motivations had to be more complicated.

James rubbed at his temple, his head pounding, yet he forced himself to turn his mind to the reason he was galloping in pursuit of his father.

His goal had never ever been to destroy Harendell’s relationship with Ithicana, but James had been so focused on setting things right with Cardiff, on stopping the burnings, that he’d been blind to the ramifications of cutting the bridge usage by half or more.

Willfully blind, if he was being honest. Because it had been easy to put Cardiff ahead of Ithicana until he’d mether.Ahnna had forced him to see the faces behind the nation he’d callously disregarded, and shame burned in his chest that he’d been so narrow-sighted in his ambitions.

Ahnna’s confession of the dire straits of Ithicana made him feel compelled to take a step back. To find a moderate strategy that would see the borders with Cardiff opened without stripping Ithicana of the trade they needed to survive. To find a path forward without consequence.

Except he suspected no such path existed.

A small amount of revenue wouldn’t be enough to compel Harendellian merchants to set aside old biases and hatred: It had to be wealth that they couldn’t dream of achieving any other way. If the border was opened with no taxes, they’d all take their business north and forsake Ithicana’s expensive bridge without a second thought. There was no possibility of a small drip when the floodgate was opened. That had been the crux of his plan all along, and he’d paid little mind to Ithicana.

Until her.

James closed his eyes, his mind filling with Ahnna’s face. So wildly fierce and dangerous, yet possessed of a heart made vulnerable by her commitment to her people. Never in his life had awoman consumed him like she did, made him feel the way she did. Yet not only was there no future between them, but Ahnna would hate him when she learned that his life’s work had the potential to achieve what Silas’s violence had failed to accomplish: the destruction of the Bridge Kingdom.

Beneath him, Georgie’s horse snorted, and James’s eyes snapped up to see a caravan on the road ahead, royal banners flapping in the wind. Relief flooded him, because by some stroke of fortune, his father was already returning to Verwyrd.

Digging in his heels, he urged the exhausted horse for speed, the soldiers parting ranks as he was recognized, the royal carriage drawing to a halt. Dismounting next to it, he handed off his reins and opened the door. “Father—”

He broke off, because his father wasn’t in the carriage, only Alexandra. She set the knitting needles she held down on her lap. “James. This is a surprise.”

“Your Grace.” He inclined his head. “Apologies for the intrusion. I have urgent need to speak with the king.”

“Edward has ridden ahead to Verwyrd,” she said. To his shock, she added, “Travel with me, James. It has been an age since we talked, you and I.”

His skin crawled with trepidation, because no good ever came from conversations with Alexandra. Yet there was no declining the request of the queen, so he climbed inside. The carriage rocked from side to side as it began moving again.

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