“No!” Her voice was shrill and frantic. Grabbing a fallen knife, she threw it, the blade embedding in the corrupted’s arm. It hissed and flung Miki aside, his body hitting a tree with a sickening crunch.
Sobbing with grief, Teriana flung herself at the creature, carving her way through the men standing between them with Quintus’s gladius.
“Don’t hurt her! We need her alive,” someone bellowed, but the words only made her fight harder, not with the lethal efficiency of a legionnaire but with the nastiness of a pirate. Knowing they wouldn’t stab her in the back, she fought to maim, the razor-sharp gladius removing limbs and opening guts.
They fell back from her in an ever-widening circle, and she hazarded a glance over her shoulder to check on her guard.
All there was were still bodies. Parts. Blood. They were dead. All of them were dead.
“You bastards!” Teriana screamed, and she threw herself at the corrupted even as she felt the dart pierce the skin of her neck.
40
MARCUS
“How much longer?”
Felix cleared his throat. “Three hours.”
Three hours left for Urcon to surrender Aracam, or the legions and the allied clans would attack the city and take it by force. Marcus had given Urcon the opportunity knowing that the man wouldn’t take it. Men like him never did.
One of the Forty-First stepped inside. “Powder casks are unloaded from the ship, sir.”
“Good,” Felix said. “We’ll set the charges after the sun sets. Remind the men to keep the casks away from open flame. Don’t want to blow ourselves up.”
The soldier saluted and departed. “We’ll blast a few holes in that ring wall,” Felix said. “Urcon won’t know what hit him.”
“If it works,” Marcus muttered. But it wasn’t the effectiveness of the new weapon that was plaguing his thoughts.
Teriana and her bodyguards should’ve been back from Galinha this morning, but it was already late afternoon and there was no sign of her. Agitation prickled at his skin, and every time he heard the flaps to the tent open, his heart skipped, his eyes flicking to the entrance to see if it was her.
But it was always someone else.
Footsteps stole his attention from Felix, and he turned in time to see Servius and Gibzen walk in, followed by Titus and his second and third. He listened to their updates, noting, not for the first time, that the other legatus had turned out to be quite different than he’d expected. He was smart and attentive, never argumentative, although he did not hesitate to raise his concerns. He kept his emotions in check, which, lately, had made him more of an asset than Felix.
“Sir?”
The guard he’d dispatched to find out if Teriana was lurking somewhere else in the camp had finally returned. “Well?” he demanded.
“I asked at the gate, sir. Teriana and her bodyguards haven’t returned.”
Marcus’s skin prickled, and the nerves that had been troubling his stomach amplified to the point he felt sick.
“They should’ve been back hours ago,” Servius said.
“Who cares,” Felix replied. “Teriana probably slept late and slowed them down.”
Except that wasn’t her way. She might bitch and complain until she was blue in the face, but she was a hard worker. If she said she would do something, she did. If she said she would be somewhere, she was.
“Could’ve been an accident on the road.” Gibzen’s face reflected the grimness of his tone. “Twisted ankle or the like. Want me to send a few men out to find them?”
“Yes,” Marcus answered, even as Felix said, “Come on! Our army is already half in position, and the rest will be marching soon enough. We can’t spare the resources, and even if we could, what’s the point? They’ll get here when they get here.”
Marcus dug his fingernails into his palms as he struggled to keep his anger in check. Instead of answering his second, he nodded at Gibzen. “Do it. Tell them to hurry.”
* * *
Never had Marcus wished harder for time to stop, but never had it flown faster, the sun passing overhead as though it were being chased by one of this land’s gods. Maybe it was.
“Time’s up,” Felix said from where he stood with his arms crossed in the corner. “Shall we?”
Urcon hadn’t capitulated.
Teriana hadn’t arrived at camp.
But Marcus could not stand here waiting for news of her when his army was about to march into battle. Focus. He took a deep breath and nodded once.
“They were ambushed!”
There was a flurry of motion at the front of the tent, and a legionnaire staggered in, breath coming in great heavy gasps. Marcus felt hollow, the dim tent abruptly too bright. “What?”
“They’re all dead but Quintus and Miki, and they’re both in bad shape. Miki might not make it. They’re with the medics now.”
All of them. All of them. A loud whining ring filled his ears, and Marcus stared at the man, seeing his lips moving but not hearing the words.
“What about Teriana?” Titus demanded, and the sound of her name snapped Marcus back into the moment.
“Not with them. The others are still looking.”
Felix barked out a bitter laugh. “And the bitch finally shows her true colors.”
Marcus snapped. Twisting around, he struck, catching Felix in the face and knocking him back. Only it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
He flung himself at his so-called friend, and the table collapsed beneath their weight, maps, markers, and tin cups flying. “You think she did this?” he screamed. “This was done to her. We were supposed to keep her safe, and now she’s dead.”
Hands latched on him, dragging him off Felix, slamming him on his back. Servius and Gibzen held his arms and Titus sprawled across his legs. He fought against them as Felix staggered to his feet, nose bleeding.
Then the anger rushed out of Marcus in a flood, leaving a void behind. Teriana was dead, and it was his fault. He’d sent her away from the safety of the camp, and not because she’d deserved it, but because of his lack of willpower. Because his rutting feelings had been hurt. And now she was gone.
Servius’s face was inches from his. “We’ll find her, but right now, you’ve got to get your shit together, because you’ve a battle to win.”
Titus eased off his legs. “The men Gibzen sent are good trackers, Marcus, plus they have four of Ereni’s warriors with them. Together they’ll find her, and if…” He trailed off, then clenched his teeth. “We’ll make them pay.”
“Those were my men with her,” Gibzen added. “We’ll find the bastards who did this and show them ways to die that they never dreamed of.”
Marcus heard everything they said, but it meant little. Revenge wouldn’t bring her back. And burning this whole continent to the ground wouldn’t make her death any less his fault. Servius dragged Marcus to his feet, keeping between him and Felix.
“Marcus, you know I—” Felix started to say, but Marcus cut him off.
“Save your breath.”
“Sir?”
One of the guards stood at the front of the tent, his eyes drifting back and forth between the mess of furniture and maps and his angry commander.
“What?”
“We’ve got a man, a local, outside. He wants to talk to you.”
“Now isn’t the time,” Servius snapped at him. “We’re about to march—”
“He was shouting Teriana’s name.”
Hope shot through Marcus’s veins. Maybe she’d escaped to one of the villages. Maybe she was alive. “Bring him in.”
The man they escorted in didn’t deserve the word. He was a boy, little more than twelve or thirteen, and Marcus recognized him as one of the children from Ereni’s clan who Teriana had been teaching to speak Cel. Both of his eyes were blackened, and blood dripped from his nose. “You do this to him?” Marcus demanded, but the soldier shook his head.
“We found him like that, sir.”
“Teriana,”
the boy blurted out.
“Where is she?” Everyone pressed close, but Marcus motioned them back.
“Urcon’s men. They … took her.” His words were accented and shaky but clear enough.
“Where did they take her?”
The boy shook his head and lifted his shoulders in mute appeal.
“What do they want?” Marcus barely heard the question, despite it coming from his own lips. Because he knew.
“He say, you—”
The boy broke off, fear making him forget the Cel he’d been taught. Marcus knew how the child felt, because every bit of Arinoquian he’d learned seemed to have vanished from his head. Taking a deep breath, Marcus focused his thoughts and dragged the words he needed forth: “What did this man tell you to tell me?”
“He said you need to take your army and leave. To get back on your ships and go home.”
“Or?” Marcus’s pulse roared in his ears.
The boy’s throat convulsed as he swallowed. “Or Teriana dies.”
41
TERIANA
Teriana woke to the sound of beating drums, only to realize that the sound was a throbbing pulse inside her skull. Groaning, she lifted a hand to her head, and the events on the road came crashing back. Her friends lying still among the bodies of the enemy. Hearing the order not to kill her. The dart that had taken her in the neck.
Fear chased away the pain, her lashes sticking and pulling as she pried her lids open.
And saw nothing but blackness.
Breath coming in frantic little pants, she stretched out her legs, but her feet thudded against something solid. They’d put her in a box. Panic crept through her veins, and she reached out, feeling little relief as her fingers bumped against wooden bars. Not a box, but a cage.
Keep it together, she ordered herself, shifting as best she could to test the limits of the enclosure, eyes growing accustomed enough to the darkness that she was able to make out what lay beyond the bars. It was a building of some sort, windowless, but light faintly outlined a door.
Which suddenly opened.
She squinted at the man who’d come inside.
“You’re awake,” he said. “How delightful.”
“You’ve made a mistake.” Her voice was hoarse. “When they track you down, which they will, you’re all dead men.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” The man knelt next to her cage. He wore a sword belted at his waist, and there were knives strapped to his forearms and calves, along with several knife-shaped bulges under his shirt. But all that steel meant nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, as the eyes of the man who’d stolen Miki’s life met hers.
Corrupted.
She recoiled against her cage, which shook with the impact of her shoulders. All it would take was one touch. One touch from someone marked by the Seventh god and all the remaining years of her life would be gone.
“We were careful to lay a dozen false trails,” he continued. “Besides, we won’t be here long.”
“Where are you taking me?” she whispered.
“Depends.” He smiled, and his teeth gleamed white against the brown of his skin, the dozen rings in his left ear glittering. He was Gamdeshian. Or at least, had been.
“Depends on what?” She needed to keep him talking, to discover as much of their plans as she could, figure out how much time she had, and then think of a way to escape.
“On how much your friends value your life.”
“Then I suppose you should kill me now,” she said, “because they aren’t my friends. I’m their prisoner.”
He laughed. “You don’t act like much of a prisoner, Teriana. You see, we’ve been watching you. And him.”
There was only one him. Marcus. “What do you want?”
“As we speak, a message is being delivered to the commander of your boy army.” He drew a finger down her cheek to mimic Marcus’s scar, and when she recoiled he grabbed a handful of her braids and jerked her forward. “Either he withdraws his army, or we send you back to him in pieces. I was of a mind to send you back aged into an old woman, but we did not want to risk them not recognizing you.”
After how she’d left things with Marcus, the chances of him withdrawing the legions on her behalf were next to nothing. Yet she had to ask: “And if he agrees?”
A feral gleam filled the man’s gaze. “Oh, we’ll still send you back in pieces, when the moment is right. No doubt they’ll attack Aracam in retaliation, but by then our reinforcements will have arrived, and we’ll see how this army of boys fights a two-sided battle against grown men.”
Not only did Teriana not relish an early end to her life, her people’s freedom depended on her making it out of this situation alive, because that gods-damned treaty with the Senate was with her. If she died, what would happen to her crew? To her mother? To those of her people captive back in Celendor? She needed to do anything, risk everything, to escape before Marcus laughed in their messenger’s face and she was cut to bits.
How much time did she have? An hour? Two? And how in the name of all the gods was she going to get past a minion of the Seventh? The answer to that was obvious: she wasn’t.
Which meant it was time to start negotiating.
“You’re wasting your time,” she said. “He couldn’t care less if you kill me. But for you, I’m much more valuable alive than dead. I know their plans and strategies. How they fight. I’ll tell you everything if you give your word to let me go after you defeat them.”
“Here’s the thing.” He tapped her on the nose, and she flinched. “I think he does care for you, and I think he’ll do whatever it takes to get you back.”
If only that were true. Teriana bit the insides of her cheeks, the pain steadying her nerves. “You’re mistaken. Killing me gains you nothing.”
The corrupted shook his head. “You are a liar, Teriana. We know he keeps you with him at all times, shares his tent with you—and his bed. Our informant told us as much when he provided the time and place for our ambush, and even if he had not … We have our own spies.”
Teriana exhaled slowly, trying not to react. Our informant … Who could it be? “You’d trust a man who’d betray his own?”
The corrupted shrugged. “The fool was so caught up with his desire to be rid of you that he failed to see the weapon he was handing over. Was paying us to take.” He laughed and extracted a handful of gold coins. They were stamped with the Cel dragon, which meant they hadn’t come from the chests in the command tent. But none of the legionnaires she’d gambled with had that amount of wealth in their pockets, only silver and bronze.
“He went on and on about how you’d been nothing but trouble. How his commander was making a fool of himself chasing after you. How everything would go back to normal once you were dead.” His mouth twisted in a smirk. “It was quite obvious he idolizes him. Love makes men into fools.”
Felix. Who else could he be talking about? Felix disliked her more than anyone else, and if he’d found out that she and Marcus had been together … Well, it wasn’t like she hadn’t suspected how deep Felix’s feelings ran for his commander. Everything the corrupted had said pointed to the second-in-command, and as an officer, it was possible he had access to that amount of gold.…
“Trying to figure out who the traitor is?” the corrupted asked. “I’d describe him, but they all look the same to me.”
She had to escape. Had to warn them. Had to stop Marcus from making a mistake that might cost both of them everything. Had to tell him she hadn’t meant a damned word of what she’d said on the beach.
Think. If they intended to kill her regardless of what Marcus did, why hadn’t they already done so? There had to be a reason why they were keeping her alive, and maybe she could capitalize upon that.
“But what about you, little Maarin girl?” the corrupted asked. “We know this boy commander is enamored of his prisoner, but is the prisoner such a fool as to have fallen in love with her captor?”
She met his dead stare for a long m
oment, voiced a silent prayer to the Six, then spit in his face.
Very slowly, he lifted his sleeve to wipe his cheek, and for a heartbeat Teriana thought she’d misjudged him. Then, quick as a viper, he reached through the bars and caught the front of her shirt. He jerked her forward and she tried to brace her hands against the bars, but he was infinitely stronger. Over and over, he slammed her face and shoulders against the cage and she shrieked and cried, because it hurt. When her hands slipped through the bars, fumbling against him as though in an effort to brace herself, he did not notice that she palmed one of his knives, slipping it up her sleeve with practiced ease.
He tossed her against the rear of her cage, and it was no act when she curled up in a shuddering ball, her eyes swelling, nose dripping blood.
The door opened. “Ashok,” another man said. “The messenger has gone into the Cel camp to deliver your demands.”
“Splendid.” Ashok rose to his feet. “Now let’s see what this boy values more: your life or his pride. Not that it will make much difference to you, in the end.” Laughing, he walked out of the building.
42
MARCUS
No one in the tent spoke.
Withdraw, or Teriana dies. Marcus felt numb, and he only dimly heard the others continue questioning the boy as he turned away. Righting the table, he gathered the maps, laying out the ones he needed and replacing the scattered markers in their correct locations. Withdraw, or Teriana dies.
“Marcus?”
Was this always the way it was to be? Those he cared about being put in jeopardy in order to manipulate him? First his family and now Teriana. His affection was a curse, and maybe it was better for all if he wiped the emotion from his heart. If he truly became the cold, logical creature the Empire had trained him to be.
But it wouldn’t save Teriana.
“Marcus.” Titus was across from him, his face flushed. “What do you want to do?”
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