Page 40 of The Twisted Throne

“Has anyone ever fallen off the top?” Bronwyn asked, breaking Ahnna from her thoughts.

“Generations ago, throwing criminals off the top was a method of formal execution,” James answered. “Though the practice ceased when the city was built up beneath, for obvious reasons.”

“So, no one falls off anymore?”

“I didn’t say that,” James replied.

There was a coolness to his tone that stifled conversation. Ahnna and her friends watched out the window as the carriage began its descent into the river valley. Their escort formed up to either side, the caparisons on the horses fluttering and the soldiers’ armor gleaming in the sun, and it wasn’t long until the sides of the road were filled with civilians. They cheered and threw flower petals as the coach passed, with endless choruses of “God bless Ithicana” and “God bless the good princess” filling Ahnna’s ears. Their words reminded her that Harendell held to religion in amuch more performative manner than did Ithicana, where God and the Great Thereafter were accepted truths, with little time spent belaboring the details. Yet she couldn’t help but question if the sentiments were genuine, given the resentment toward Ithicana she’d seen in Sableton and Willowford.

The crowds grew as they entered the town, the coach wheels bumping over the cobbled streets, which were lined with buildings made of timber and river stone, the walls thick with ivy and their roofs made of neat thatch. The people were shaded by drooping trees that Taryn, who’d been to Harendell many times with Aren, told her were called willows, and many wooden boxes filled with flowers of every color did a fair job of covering the scent of humanity.

They reached the bridge, which had heavy fortifications manned with uniformed soldiers, and while the gates were open, Ahnna didn’t miss the murder holes in the stone above as they trundled beneath. The Eldermoor ran deep and swift, several boats visible upon it, and then they were in the city of Verwyrd itself. The capital of Harendell.

The buildings in the city were larger and taller than those in the towns, though made the same way, and Ahnna marked the finer clothes on those watching and calling their well-wishes. It was picturesque, but the charm was much reduced by the stink of shit, animal and human. The press of humanity in Verwyrd was still repulsive to her, though Taryn and Bronwyn, both used to cities, seemed unmoved by it.

The procession paraded her through the city streets, rising toward the base of the tower, which was encircled by a low wall. They passed between the gates, and Ahnna’s eyes jumped over the many buildings made of stone and wood, the scent of horse strong.

“The royal stables are here,” James said as they drew to a halt. “We’ll abandon this carriage for one designed for the climb. Horses do poorly with heights.”

He dismounted and handed off the reins before opening the coach door. Ahnna’s heart hammered, her mouth dry and throat tight as she took James’s hand. She stepped down, not failing to notice how swiftly he let go of her once she stood on the ground.

Dozens of soldiers in uniform waited in neat rows, as well as grooms with their heads lowered in deference, all of them bowing as she straightened her tunic, though she saw the curiosity in their eyes as they took her in.

“This way, Your Highness,” James said, then offered her his arm, his reluctance to do so made apparent in the tightening of his jaw. As though having her hand on him was the very worst thing he could imagine.

Ahnna understood, because she felt the same way. But she did it anyway, hoping that her sweating palm wouldn’t be noticeable through his coat. She allowed him to lead her to a smaller but significantly more ornate carriage pulled by a pair of bored-looking mules with peculiar rubber coverings fitted over their hooves.

“We use mules in the bridge,” she said because the silence only made the tension between them worse. “Donkeys, too.”

“Those two are named Buck and Brayer.” James gestured at the animals. “My sister, Virginia, always names the new teams. Buck, he’s the one with the darker nose, bites, so mind yourself around him.”

The mule in question chose that moment to bray loudly, revealing yellowed teeth. Ahnna smiled, though the animal provided only a heartbeat of levity before her anxiety returned in full force. Climbing into the small carriage, she settled on the thick velvetcushion, James sitting across from her. Bronwyn and Taryn climbed in, and out the window, she watched Jor clamber up with the driver. He looked exhausted, dark shadows marring his eyes, and she’d not failed to notice his endless coughing. He needed rest, but he wouldn’t get it unless she ordered him to bed. Which she fully intended to do.

The carriage began moving, soldiers opening wooden gates to allow them into the spiral path leading upward. An elaborately patterned iron fence with gilded leaves was bolted to the side, but it was low enough not to disrupt the view as they began to circle higher and higher. It gave her an incredible vantage of the city, and Ahnna picked out the enormous cathedral at the southern end of the island, then the river, then the entire valley, which was forested except where land had been cleared for farms.

The wind gusted, rattling the windows of the carriage, and Ahnna stiffened as the spiral made a strange moaning sound, eerily similar to the wind within the bridge. Taryn met her gaze, acknowledging that she heard it, too.

Around and around they circled, taking Ahnna higher than she’d ever been in her life, the countryside spread all around. Forests broken up with checkerboards of crops, all of it lush green.

The carriage shook as the wind blew harder, and then the mules turned into the tower so that they were enclosed on all sides in a tunnel. Sliding open the glass, Ahnna reached out and touched the stone, which was smooth. “Bridge stone.” She shook her head. “Aren said that Devil’s Island was made of the same. I wonder how many such monuments to higher powers exist in the world.”

And how many had been lost to time.

The carriage navigated the last spiral, then exited into a courtyard formed of polished white rock fitted together so perfectly, thewalls appeared nearly seamless. It stopped before a low set of stairs that were at least two dozen feet wide, at the top of which stood an older man in a uniform similar to that which James had worn the day he’d arrived in Northwatch, but with more medals and a crown upon his head. A man familiar to Ahnna not only from their single brief meeting, but also from all the statues and portraits she’d seen of him since arriving in Harendell.

King Edward.

At his left stood a striking woman in a royal-blue gown trimmed with ermine, a glittering tiara woven into her light-brown curls. She was of average height but so painfully thin she appeared gaunt, her green eyes sharp as tacks. Alexandra. And it struck Ahnna then that she’d seen nary a portrait of the queen since arriving in Harendell. Which…felt strange. Ahnna set aside the thought for later consideration, eyes skipping over the retinue of men in uniforms and women in lavish gowns, searching for a face to match the portrait she’d received of William.

The carriage door opened, and James stepped out, someone shouting at an incredible volume, “His Royal Highness, Prince James, Major General of His Majesty’s Royal Army, Sixth Division, and Protector of the Realm.”

“Fancy.” Bronwyn accepted James’s hand to step out, Taryn following, the same loudmouth shouting, “Her Royal Highness, Princess Bronwyn of Maridrina, and Lady Taryn of Ithicana.”

Trumpets abruptly blared, accompanied by vigorous drums, and when they trailed off, the man shouted, “Her Most Royal Highness, Princess Ahnna of Ithicana, beloved sister to His Royal Majesty, King Aren of Ithicana, the Master of the Bridge.”

Never in her life had she been announced in such a fashion, but there was no time to consider the Harendellians’ choices as her eyes fixed on James’s gloved hand.

You can do this,she told herself.Ithicana needs you to do this.

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