Dark Shores

by Danielle L. Jensen

“I leave you to your own devices for one night and this is how you treat your equipment?”

  Marcus jerked awake, eyes going to Amarin, who was eyeing the pile of armor and weapons lying haphazardly across the floor of the tent. “Where’s Teriana?”

  One of Amarin’s eyebrows rose. “Not where you expected her to be?”

  Marcus ignored the comment. Rolling out of the tangle of his bedding, he availed himself of the bowl of water the man had brought, then dragged a clean tunic over his head. Leaving Amarin to fuss with his armor, he buckled on his belt as he walked through the command tent and out into the open.

  The sun was fully up and wicked bright, forcing him to squint. “Which way did she go?”

  One of his men pointed toward the main gates, and Marcus strode in that direction, paying little attention to the salutes of those he passed.

  He hadn’t meant for last night to happen.

  Not because he hadn’t wanted it to, but because it could only lead to trouble.

  He’d told her the truth about Chersome because he’d wanted her to think better of him. But there were countless other truths he hadn’t told her that would do the exact opposite. How much would she hate him if she knew?

  How much worse would it be now that they’d been together?

  He was a piece of shit for letting it happen, for allowing his own desires to take precedence over being a decent human being. But despite knowing that, Marcus couldn’t help but wonder if there was a way to make it work, because his feelings for her weren’t limited to lust.

  Far from it.

  Rattling off a string of curses under his breath, all directed at himself, he scanned the tents, looking for the dark gleam of her hair. He needed to make sure she was all right, to try—although he didn’t know how—to undo the damage he’d done. To make her understand that in another world, another life, maybe things could be different. If he were not who he was …

  And for the first time in years, Marcus allowed himself to feel bitterness at the hand he’d been dealt. To hate his father for sacrificing him to a life where he could have nothing of his own. Where any relationship beyond the brotherhood of the legion was forbidden and by the time he was released, he’d be too old and bitter and broken to care. It was not fair.

  Because he wanted this, and he wanted her, but it could not be. And even if it could, she deserved far better than him. Someone who wasn’t lying to her. Someone who could give her more than a canvas tent and a soldier’s rations. Someone who wasn’t destined to hurt her.

  You are her enemy. You are her captor.

  “Marcus!”

  He jumped at the sound of his name, turning to see Felix striding toward him. “You losing your hearing?” his friend muttered. “I called you three times.”

  “Sorry.” His gaze drifted over Felix’s shoulder, searching, searching.

  “I need to talk to you about something we found in Galinha last night,” Felix said. “We found a house, one of the fancier ones, and it was full of—”

  Where is she?

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  His attention jerked back to Felix, whose face was dark with irritation. “I am.”

  “Clearly not, given I just told you that we found the bodies of some of the missing children and you didn’t even blink.”

  That caught his attention. “How many?”

  “A hundred or so.”

  So many …

  “We’re still sorting through them,” Felix said. “Some are little more than bones, but others … There’s something strange about them.”

  “How so?”

  “They’re child sized, but they look—” Felix shook his head. “You need to see it for yourself.”

  It is the last thing I want to see. “Send word to Ereni. And to Flacre,” he said. “Have them come and see if any can be identified.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll come; I just…” Where is she? “There’s something I need to do first.”

  He started walking to the gates, hearing Felix call his name, but not turning around. “Have you seen her?” he asked the men standing guard.

  Because there is only one her.

  “Wanted a swim,” one of them answered. “Quintus and Miki are watching her back.”

  Swallowing hard, Marcus left the camp, making his way down through the trees to the sound of crashing waves. “You can go,” he said to the two men standing at the edge of the sand, his eyes all for the girl standing knee deep, her clothes dripping and the sun glinting off the gold and gems decorating black braids that hung to her narrow waist. She was beautiful.

  But as much as he might wish otherwise, she was not his. And never would be.

  Taking a deep breath, he walked out onto the beach.

  38

  TERIANA

  The thud, thud of heavy sandals against the sand pulled Teriana from her dismal reverie, the rehashing of Titus’s words that no amount of scrubbing with soap and sand could erase from her mind.

  It was him. She knew it was him, and she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into the waves and swim until the sea sucked her down into its depths. Anything to avoid this conversation.

  “When I woke, you weren’t there.”

  She didn’t turn around. “Needed to get clean.”

  It was true. She’d been sticky with sweat and grime from the heat and exertion. From living in a tent. Except that wasn’t what she meant, and from his silence, he knew it.

  “Teriana, I … I wanted you to know—”

  She stepped out of the water, facing him and cutting him off. “Nothing to be said, Marcus. It isn’t a big deal. It isn’t as though it meant anything.”

  There’d been a glint of emotion on his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by an unblinking stare. “I see,” he said.

  The words were inflectionless, which usually meant he was annoyed. Good, she thought. Let him believe his plan to manipulate me hasn’t worked. Never mind that it was a lie. Never mind that he’d rattled her worse than she’d believed possible.

  Picking up her boots, she tugged one on. “It’s a matter of convenience. You’ve made it clear all your men are off-limits, and you seem set and determined to keep me near you every moment, so…” She shrugged, then tugged on her other boot. “It worked for both of us. For a night.”

  He didn’t respond, only stood staring at her. Silent. Probably thinking of ways to alter his strategy now that he knew she wasn’t some stupid little girl to be so affected by a night between the sheets.

  “If it helps”—she pulled on the vest that had been lying next to her boots—“think of me like those girls in the camp last night.”

  “Like a prostitute.” He blinked once. “Well, in that case, you know where we keep the gold. Take whatever you thought it was worth.”

  Without another word, he rotated on one heel and strolled back to camp.

  It was worse than if he’d spit in her face. But what had she expected? He had the advantage in this game they were playing, because he didn’t care. She had cared.

  And I still do.

  Though if he thought she’d sit here in the sand and weep, he had another thing coming. Taking several quick steps, she fell in next to him. “No need for that,” she said. “With the way your men gamble, it will all end up in my pocket anyway.”

  The muscles in his jaw flexed. “There isn’t going to be time for cards in the coming days,” he said. “Not for you. You’re going to be marching up and down the coast ensuring the supply chains we’ve set up are functioning as intended. We’ll be marching on Urcon’s stronghold in Aracam shortly, and the last thing I need to be worrying about is feeding my men.”

  He was sending her away.

  She should’ve let him die.

  Had he always been planning this, or was this his reaction to her not playing into his ploy? When he’d believed she was a lovestruck fool, it had been safe enough to keep her around. Only now that he knew otherwise
, what better way to keep her from sabotaging his plans than to send her away just before the fighting intensified?

  “You need me here. Who else will translate for you?”

  “I don’t need you,” he said in Arinoquian. “For translation or otherwise.”

  She flinched and hated herself for it.

  They’d reached the gates, and he stopped while they were still far enough that the men couldn’t hear them. “Pack what you need and be ready to go in an hour. And Teriana…”

  “What?” The word was supposed to sound sour, but instead it was strangled.

  “Your usefulness is waning. Best you come up with a way to pick up the slack, or I might find cause to reconsider our contract.”

  39

  TERIANA

  Teriana stared at the pitted and scarred wood of the table, idly tracing shapes with the condensation pooling at the base of her glass.

  “You in or out?” Miki asked, shuffling the deck.

  She gave a slight shake of her head and took a mouthful of ale, wondering how much she’d regret it if she drank to the bottom of a keg tonight. Probably no more than she had the first night, or the second, or the third since they’d been in Galinha, the tavern and inn above bought and paid for with Cel gold for the men who remained here to keep order.

  “You in, Quintus?”

  “Nope.” Her bodyguard shifted, elbow bumping hers. “Teriana has all my money.”

  The group laughed, but she barely heard it, attention drifting around the room. Seeing an Arinoquian tavern filled with Cel was strange but not, she supposed, for much longer. How long will it take? she wondered. How long until Arinoquia is as nestled into the Empire’s fold as Atlia, Bardeen, Sibal, and Chersome?

  Teriana would’ve given anything to talk to Bait, but Magnius hadn’t answered her calls any of the times she’d tried to summon him under the guise of taking a swim. Which, she hoped, meant that Bait had heeded her order and gone with their guardian home to Taltuga, the Maarin islands off the coast of Mudamora. She prayed that he’d have more luck gaining the assistance of the two other triumvirs than she had in stopping the Cel. Not that luck had been on her side in anything lately other than cards.

  The server walked by, and Teriana motioned for him to bring another round, paying for it with her winnings.

  Sensing eyes on her, she turned her head and met Quintus’s gaze. “Something on your mind?” he asked.

  The Arinoquians’ deaths on the road. Caradoc’s death. The fact she’d fallen on her back for the Thirty-Seventh’s commander. All her mistakes.

  She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Just thinking about what’s left on that list for me to accomplish.” Before Marcus had booted her out of camp, he’d penned a dozen items on a piece of paper in his obnoxiously elegant script and told her not to return until she’d crossed out all of them.

  “It’s make-work, you know,” Quintus said, accepting a foaming cup. “Point and pay. Anyone could’ve done it. Didn’t have to be you.”

  “I drive a harder bargain than anyone else.”

  “You do,” he agreed, pushing the bowl of fried bits of batter in her direction. “But given about the only thing that rat bastard Cassius did right was supply us with enough gold, that’s not the reason the legatus sent you away. Am I wrong?”

  “I need some air.” Pushing back her stool, Teriana wove between the tables, trying to keep her annoyance in check as Quintus followed. The Six forbid I have a moment of privacy.

  “You’re not going wandering without a full escort,” he said, pulling her to a stop. “So get your fresh air right here.”

  “Piss off,” Teriana muttered, but didn’t argue when he leaned against the wall next to her.

  “What’s had you in such a twist these past days?”

  “That’s a stupid question, Quintus. I’m a prisoner being forced to help those intent on conquering the world and wiping out my religion. And if I don’t help, they’ll kill my mum, then slaughter my people.”

  Her bodyguard blew out a breath between his teeth, nodding as he did. “Point made.” Then he turned to look at her. “Except something’s made things worse. Am I right?”

  “Aye.” But a big part of what had made it worse was nothing she had any intention of admitting. “I didn’t think Marcus was involved with the decision to capture Maarin ships. I thought that was Cassius.”

  “It was.”

  She spit into the dirt. “Bullshit. Without Marcus, Cassius wouldn’t have been able to give those orders. Titus told me about the vote.”

  “Titus doesn’t know shit.”

  “He knows enough! Cassius murdered dozens of my people, tortured my mum—tortured me. Made me choose between the lives of my people and the lives of the thousands of people you lot will likely conquer or kill. And Marcus was the one who put him in power.”

  Quintus shook his head slowly. “If you’re going to blame him for that, then you might as well blame the lot of us, because we all voted. And his token didn’t count for any more than mine.”

  “But you had no choice. Marcus ordered you to vote for Cassius.”

  “No,” Quintus said. “He didn’t.”

  Her mouth was open to retort, but instead her teeth clicked shut.

  “We were recalled from Chersome, no reason given, and left to languish outside Celendrial. Cassius called Marcus to a private meeting and tried to blackmail him into ordering us to vote for him. Told him that if he didn’t win the consulship the Thirty-Seventh would be sent to some shit hole full of pestilence where our ranks would be slowly whittled down to nothing by disease. But if we voted for him, we’d be rewarded.”

  Blackmail. “You all voted for him. Titus told me so.”

  He nodded. “We did. Most of us, at any rate. Except Marcus didn’t order us to do anything: he told us the truth and let us vote how we wished.” Leaning against the building, Quintus tilted his face toward the sky, studying the moon. “Maybe it was the wrong thing for us to do, to vote for Cassius, because the people of the Empire won’t thrive under his leadership. Except what have they ever done for us? Why should we suffer any more than we already have for their sakes?”

  It was tempting to be all high-and-mighty, to say they should’ve voted to support the greater good. Only Teriana wasn’t that big a fool. When given the opportunity, people voted in their best interests, and for the Thirty-Seventh that had been Cassius.

  “You said Titus told you this? He’s not the greatest source.”

  “Aye.” She hadn’t thought Titus brave enough to lie about something she could so easily confirm, but neither had she thought him clever enough to hide his deceit in a layer of truth.

  “A consul isn’t a king,” Quintus said. “Cassius still needs a majority vote to do much of anything, and that includes deciding which legion to send on a particular mission. There wasn’t a chance of the Senate agreeing to an inexperienced legatus like Titus commanding a mission of this importance. But to send him as second to the best commander the Empire has in service? That was an easy sell. Made easier still by the fact that they were glad to send the Thirty-Seventh, and our black reputation, to the far side of the world. Out of sight, out of mind, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Except that same distance means that the Senate can’t stop Titus from taking command if something were to happen to Marcus, so don’t think for a second that he isn’t doing everything he can to make that happen.”

  “How is making me hate Marcus supposed to accomplish that?”

  Quintus shrugged. “Got me. But I do know he wouldn’t have done it without cause.”

  There was movement in the shadows up the street, and Quintus’s blade was in his hand in an instant, his free hand pushing her toward the door. However, the men who materialized from the darkness were Cel, and he instantly relaxed.

  “Got a message from camp,” one of them said. “Legatus plans to give Urcon an ultimatum. Surrender, or we attack Aracam. He wants Teriana back as soon as p
ossible.”

  “Guess that means we’re leaving at dawn,” Quintus said. “Enjoy your last night sleeping in a proper bed, Teriana.”

  * * *

  The sun was high in the sky and her feet ached, but they still hadn’t made it to the new camp. Have things changed? she wondered. Will my belongings still be in Marcus’s tent, or will he have moved me somewhere else? Somewhere out of the way?

  Lost in thought, she walked into Quintus’s back, her knuckles clanging painfully against his armor. “The Seventh take you, Quintus! What—”

  “Would you be rutting quiet,” he hissed, and it was only then that she noticed the jungle had gone silent. No birds chirped. No monkeys screeched. Even the insects seemed to have ceased their endless drone.

  The legionnaires eyed the trees. Watchful. Uneasy. Blades slipped into hands, and Quintus muttered, “This is an ambush. We need to move. Now!”

  Teriana’s ears caught the muffled twang of a bowstring, and a second later an arrow was jutting just below Quintus’s collarbone. Another took him in the arm. Another in the leg. Then he dropped even as she heard Miki scream his name.

  Teriana caught Quintus, his weight dragging her to the ground as dozens of warriors exploded from the jungle, the air full of their battle cries. The legionnaires stood their ground, fighting with ruthless efficiency, cutting down warrior after warrior. But they kept coming.

  “We need to retreat!” Miki shouted, gutting one of their attackers even as he stepped back, reaching for Teriana to haul her up. “Teriana, let him go.”

  She could see the words cost him. Could see the tears on his cheeks.

  “We need to run!”

  She started to rise right when their attackers parted like a wave and a man strode through them, dark eyes fixing on them. Teriana took one look and screamed. “He’s corrupted! Kill him!”

  Miki threw a knife, and it embedded in the man’s chest with a meaty thunk, but the corrupted only laughed, plucking it out and tossing it aside.

  “Run!” Teriana howled. “Run!”

  But instead Miki sprinted toward the corrupted, blade in hand. The corrupted lifted a sword and they fought, the air filling with the crash of steel, but then the creature had her friend by the neck, Miki’s face ageing before her eyes.