Page 28 of The Twisted Throne

“He’s not wrong,” Bronwyn said. “And I have to admit, that awful grayish green you Ithicanians insist on wearing is not your best color.”

Ahnna shot her friend a glare. “My choice of attire has proven to be good foresight on my part, given that we keep beingattacked. I’d be dead thrice over if I was wearing a gown and corset.”

“A valid point.” Bronwyn rested a boot on her own trousered knee. “It’s much harder to fight in skirts.”

The carriage began to move, rocking from side to side as the horses increased their pace, causing Ahnna’s body to press up against James’s. Having spent her life in the tight quarters of Ithicana’s small vessels, she was used to contact, but Ahnna found herself intimately aware of the heat of him. Of each part of her body that was touching him.

“There will be no more attacks, no more fighting,” James said, shifting restlessly. “You will be under guard at all times until we reach Verwyrd, so your attire should befit a lady, not a soldier.”

Ahnna gave a soft snort. “If there is anyone who should be under guard at all times, it is you. You’re the one the Amaridians are trying to kill. With a proper bodyguard, you won’t have to worry about ruining any more of your princely clothes.”

He cast his eyes skyward. “I can take care of myself.”

“Given the number of timesI’vehad to saveyourlife, I beg to differ,” Ahnna countered. “Indeed, I think it prudent that I continue to attire myself in such a way that I’ll be able to provide you with the protection you clearly need.”

Bronwyn and Taryn were both smirking, and it struck Ahnna that this was the first time since before the war that she’d seen her cousin both sober and happy. It made baiting James, which was probably not a wise choice, seem very much worthwhile.

“You are insufferable.” He glared out the window, seeming to be trying to compress his broad shoulders to create more space between them. “Do as you will. But don’t come weeping to me when you stumble into the consequences of your lack of decorum.”

“Oh, you have my word on that.” Ahnna rested her elbow against the side of the carriage, admiring the buildings they passed as they bounced over the cobbles. She wanted to get out and walk so that she might better see the purpose of all these structures, which did not seem to be homes. Inns, perhaps? Or taverns? Seeing a pair of women with dresses cut so low that their breasts almost spilled out, she suspected more than a few were brothels. Ahnna was struck with the sudden urge to see inside one, for Ithicana had no such establishments, prostitution being illegal.

“What is going on in those buildings?” Bronwyn asked, pointing to large structures from which emanated smoke and steam.

“Foundries,” James answered curtly. “Several of the commercial foundries, Cartwright being the largest, built up production in Sableton after Ithicana began allowing the shipment of weapons through the bridge to be purchased by the Maridrinians. The market has collapsed, for obvious reasons, so they converted much of production to farm equipment. Hammers, spades, horseshoes, and the like. Less profitable.”

“But much more peaceful,” Ahnna said, not forgetting how Silas had cleverly used Harendellian weapons in his invasion. “I’ve never had anyone attack me with a horseshoe.”

“Indeed,” James said, scowling out the window.

They passed into a large square lined with market stalls overflowing with food and goods, the plenty that Harendell enjoyed on display. At the center of the square was a large statue of King Edward, whom she recognized easily from her brief meeting with him. Though the piece was from his younger years, he was not much changed, and Ahnna was struck by how much James resembled his father, the only notable trait that he’d received from his mother being his amber eyes.

She knew as much as anyone about the indiscretion that hadled to James’s birth, which was to say not much at all. His mother had been a servant of Cardiffian heritage, and Edward had had an affair with her while betrothed to Alexandra. Had kept up the affair evenafterhe was wed, even when Alexandra herself fell pregnant with William, for apparently, he’d been deeply in love with his mistress. The affair only ended when James’s mother was murdered, and it was said that she’d cursed her murderer with her dying breath. The infamous words,My son’s fate will be revenge upon her.The speculation was that Alexandra was theherin question. While that made a certain amount of sense, it had always struck Ahnna as odd that if the rumor were true, Edward hadn’t hanged Alexandra for killing the woman he loved. For it meant that he either knew a different truth or had spent the last twenty-six years with a woman he loathed.

She risked a sideways glance at James, who was staring broodily out the window. He undoubtedly knew the truth, but there were limits to how far she’d push him, and asking him whether the queen murdered his mother was far outside those boundaries. The spies said that Alexandra hated him, but they made no mention of whether the feeling was mutual. Yet the thought drew to the forefront of her mind the conversation she’d had with Keris just before he set sail to Devil’s Island, his voice filling her head.Alexandra is Harendellian to her core. She’ll kiss both your cheeks and pour you a cup of tea, then smile prettily with her ankles crossed as you choke to death on the poison she put in your cup. She’ll then blame Amaridian assassins so that your brother doesn’t come sailing in to avenge your death.

Words that now felt prophetic, and goosebumps rose on Ahnna’s skin despite the heat of the day. Had Alexandra thought to kill two birds with one stone, then frame Ithicana for throwing the rock? Perhaps those hadn’t been Amaridian soldiers but privateers hired by Harendell’s queen?

No,she decided, shoving away the thought. Alexandra was a threat, but hers was a poison-in-the-cup variety, not coordinated military strikes. Katarina avenging her son’s balls was more believable than that.

“Fernleigh House,” James abruptly said, and Ahnna jerked from her thoughts to notice they were passing through a gate in a high stone wall. They headed up the lane, to either side of which was a short-clipped lawn with no discernible purpose. The lane curved around a large statue, and Ahnna caught a glimpse of the manor house itself. Constructed of a honey-colored stone, it was perfectly symmetrical, with a grand portico supported by twin columns. A row of men and women waited on the steps, large doors flung open behind them.

The other carriages transporting their party pulled up next, and Ahnna heard Jor’s distinct laugh, along with Georgie’s voice. The coachman opened the door, and James stepped down, holding out his hand to her. Ignoring it, Ahnna stepped onto the gravel, inhaling air that smelled of roses as she took in Fernleigh. Ivy climbed the sides of the large manor, birds flitting among the leaves.

“It is my pleasure to introduce Her Most Royal Highness, Princess Ahnna of Ithicana, as well as her companions, Princess Bronwyn of Maridrina and Lady Taryn of Ithicana,” James said, then rattled off the names of the staff members standing on the steps. “If you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to. Georgie, with me.”

Then he disappeared inside.

As Georgie followed, he said, “Fernleigh has a lovely orangery. I suggest you take your tea there today.”

“A wonderful suggestion, my lord,” the older woman James had identified as the head housekeeper said, eyes jumping between Ahnna and her friends. “We will have baths drawn so thatthe ladies might wash and dress for tea while the orangery is prepared. We were not expecting noble visitors, so please forgive our disarray.”

“I don’t think she likes your clothes either,” Bronwyn said under her breath. “You sure trousers are a hill you wish to die on, Ahnna?”

“Yes,” Ahnna growled, then smiled at the woman who was looking down her nose at Ahnna’s attire despite being a full head shorter. “A bath would be lovely. I thank you for your gracious hospitality.”

They were led inside, the large entrance hall illuminated by a chandelier, the crystal sending a rainbow of color dancing across the marble tile of the floor. A circular table sat at the center, holding a large vase of white roses. The grand staircase rose and then split into two directions, an oil portrait of King Edward on a rearing horse gracing the wall at the top of the landing. Ahnna struggled not to smirk at the thought of her brother decorating Eranahl with a giant oil painting of himself captaining a ship.

They were brought into the west wing, the hallways covered with more portraits of past monarchs, their unsmiling faces watching Ahnna as she walked, the feeling more than a little oppressive.

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