Gilded Serpent, page 51
But what was the alternative? If he didn’t go to Cassius and the Senate with the locations of the xenthier paths, Teriana’s mother and people would remain imprisoned. And the Thirty-Seventh would remain under Titus’s control believing he was a deserter. Which he would be, having abandoned his brothers. Having abandoned Felix with those last toxic words.
Have you ever wondered what you might achieve if you fought for something you believed in?
Teriana’s question floated through his mind for the thousandth time. A thought that he’d never allowed himself to have and never could, because the moment he stepped out of line and crossed Cassius, the consul would reveal Marcus’s secret. That he was firstborn, not second. That his father had sent him in his brother’s place because he wanted to keep his healthy son as heir and in doing so had broken one of the Empire’s most sacrosanct laws. He, his father, and his brother would be hanged in the Forum, his mother stripped of even the clothes on her back and sent into exile, his younger sisters along with her. Cordelia’s husband would be encouraged to cast her aside, which would mean her children would be taken from her forever. He couldn’t do that to her. Wouldn’t let her be hurt in that way.
Unbidden, another girl’s words filled his head: Which sort of man are you, Legatus? The sort who desires to save the world? Or to save himself? The voice of the girl he’d murdered to protect both his families.
And to protect himself.
How much worse would he have to do? How much further would he have to go?
His head was a throbbing mess of pain, his breath coming too fast. Shifting Teriana off his chest, Marcus sat up and moved to the edge of the boat. Eased carefully off it, the water cold against his overheated skin.
Reaching the bank, he stumbled up it, already gasping for breath, panic setting in. He fell to his knees, forehead pressed against the rocks and mud, feeling his throat close. Feeling the darkness take over, pulling him down and down, tears soaking his cheeks because he knew someone like him wouldn’t be granted such an easy end.
And that when he woke, exhausted and aching and ill, the decision would remain.
90
KILLIAN
Ambush.
His skin had started crawling the moment they’d entered the clearing, but he’d thought it would be Agrippa who’d make the move. Or Baird.
Instead, a group of armed men, one of which he recognized from the village alehouse, stepped out of the surrounding brush. They had bows, but instead of shooting, the men all pulled their swords, obviously heeding Agrippa’s words.
Good. Their greed would be their downfall.
“You can make this easy. Or you can make this hard, Calorian,” one of them said. “Put down your weapons and we’ll let the girl go unharmed.”
“Lydia,” he said softly.
“Yes.” There was fear in her voice.
“Run.”
For once, she didn’t argue, hauling up her skirts and bolting toward the trees even as he threw himself at the men, meeting the front-runner with a clash of steel. The man met his blows twice, then Killian got past his guard and stabbed him in the chest, whirling as he extracted his bloody blade and throwing a knife at one of the other soldiers.
One of the attackers raced after Lydia, but Killian dived forward, hamstringing him and then leaving the man to scream while he engaged with the others.
They came at him three at a time, forcing him to rely on speed to dodge their blows.
One of them caught him across the forearm with the tip of his weapon. Killian ground his teeth against the pain, gutting the man and then shoving him into his fellows while he backtracked to gain better ground.
Across the clearing, Agrippa had his weapon in hand, face expressionless as he watched the fight. Where Baird was, Killian didn’t know.
He’d deal with them both later.
Dancing around a swipe of a sword, Killian punched the man in the face, then twisted to block a downward strike of a blade. But another soldier lunged into the mix, forcing him to drop and roll or take the weapon in the gut.
On his feet in a flash, Killian threw a knife, striking a soldier in the face as he rushed toward him, but they were coming at him from all sides. Blood ran down his hand, slickening his grip as he engaged with one, the man’s face determined as he parried every one of Killian’s blows, not good enough to win, but good enough to distract while his fellows attacked from the rear.
Killian sensed the blow coming and ducked, a blade whistling over his head. He turned and stabbed the soldier in the leg, but another only took his place.
There were too many of them.
Cursing, Killian stumbled back, his eyes on the men warily stepping over the bodies of the fallen even as he heard the footfalls of those circling around.
“Gods-damn it!” Agrippa swore from across the clearing, and then he was racing toward the fight, weapon raised. He carved into the back of one of the men, twisting to stab another in the guts, and Killian didn’t stop to question what the Cel bastard was doing.
Instead, he lost himself in the fight.
Blood splattered and men screamed, dying under the onslaught of steel. They held their ground for a time, then Killian felt the balance shift, and two of the attackers bolted.
Picking up a fallen sword, Killian flung it, taking one of them in the back, and chased the other at a dead sprint. Sensing he was about to be caught, the man whirled, raising his sword. But Killian’s downward strike sheared through the blade. The man screamed, and fell, pleading for mercy.
Killian cut off his head. And then he turned.
Agrippa was resting with one hand against a tree, breathing hard as he watched Killian approach.
“Finally showed your true colors.”
Agrippa made a face. “That’s a tad rich coming from you, Lord Calorian.”
Killian paused, seeing Baird approaching through the trees, a struggling Lydia gripped against his chest. Shit.
The giant paused upon reaching the clearing, both his eyebrows rising. “This,” he said, gesturing to the dead soldiers at Agrippa’s feet, “was not part of the plan, little man.”
“Yes, well, my conscience got the better of me. I’ll try not to let it happen again, but in the meantime, let the girl go.”
The giant heaved a deep sigh, then dropped Lydia at his feet. She scrambled out of reach, eyes wide as she took in the scene.
“Did you really think no one would figure out it was you?” Agrippa said, dropping his hand from the tree. “For days, we stood on the far side of that ravine watching you stride about in all that shiny armor, refusing to die no matter what we gods-damned threw at you. The image of your blasted face is burned onto my brain—I’d have recognized you anywhere.”
“So why not turn on me in Deadground?” Killian snarled, stepping between them and Lydia. “Why bring me through the Liratoras when you could’ve killed me surrounded by your own damned army?”
“Gold, you jackass!” Agrippa shouted, his face twisted with anger. “There’s a bloody reward for your head, that’s why. And an even bigger one if I delivered you to Rufina alive. Big enough that maybe Baird and I could finally be free of her.”
Killian allowed the tip of his blade to drop. “What do you mean, free of her?”
Agrippa scrubbed a hand through his hair, spiking it with streaks of blood. “I don’t want to fight for her any more than anyone else does, but that viper gives no one any choice. It’s fight or be given to her minions to have your life stripped away. But you”—he leveled a finger at Killian—“if she had you, she wouldn’t need me. And maybe as a reward, she’d allow me to leave. Baird too.”
“I’d never fight for her.”
A bitter laugh tore from Agrippa’s throat. “That’s what everyone says, and yet we all find ourselves doing so.” He lifted his head. “That’s what your queen said when she first arrived.”
Fear and anger twisted in his guts. “What do you know about Malahi?”
“I know exactly what I told you back in Deadground. That she’s a tender. And that Rufina needs her to keep pushing the blight across Mudamora. That she’s both pretty and defiant, but that Rufina is unlikely to allow her to keep either attribute.”
“Has she hurt her?”
“I avoid Helatha like the plague,” Agrippa said. “But last I heard, Rufina was making use of the tried-and-true practice of torture to try to break her to her will.”
Anguish flooded through Killian’s chest, because everything Malahi was enduring was his fault. If only he’d stayed by her side like he’d sworn to do, she’d be safe.
“Why stop now?” Lydia’s voice cut through the air. “Why turn on your own soldiers?”
“I don’t know.” Agrippa dropped his weapon, sitting down in the blood and the mud. “I changed my mind.”
“What’s to stop you from changing your mind again?”
“Only my conscience, I suppose.”
Lydia glowered, and Killian lifted his sword. “Give me one good reason why I don’t kill you both now and save myself the trouble later?”
“Because”—Agrippa leaned back on his hands, his usual shit-eating smile returning to his face—“you need my help to get your queen back.”
91
TERIANA
“We’ll have to identify ourselves if we dock the boat in Celendrial, so it’s better we get out here and walk the rest of the way,” Marcus said.
Teriana nodded, and though the river ran fast enough that she needed to pay attention to what she was doing, she found her gaze fixed on the massive city in the distance. The sun beat down on the endless white-walled structures, the only green to be seen that on the villa-crusted hill rising up from the north side of the city. Though she couldn’t see the harbor, the towering statue of a legionnaire in full regalia was clearly visible, as were the towering public buildings, their columns rising high to support roofs decorated with detailed reliefs. The paved roads the Empire was famous for converged on the city, full of travelers and rivaled only by the dozen towering aqueducts that delivered clean drinking water for the million or more people contained within the city’s low walls.
Their boat ground against the shore of the river, jerking Teriana from her thoughts, and she jumped out, helping Marcus drag the vessel farther up, where they abandoned it. Neither of them speaking, they made their way through the brush and trees into a clearing, where Marcus paused, setting their gear on the ground.
“Feels strange to be back here,” she said. “A lifetime ago that we sailed out of that harbor.”
Marcus only nodded, a deep furrow marring his brow.
Then there was a scuffle of noise in the brush. Both of them whirled, and a second later, a large lizard with yellow scales appeared, pausing as its golden eyes fixed on them.
It was about the size of a dog, but more sinuous, its feet tipped with sharp claws and its mouthful of teeth clearly visible as it hissed.
“What in the underworld is that?” she demanded, pulling out her knife and stepping back.
Appearing unconcerned, Marcus said, “It’s a dragon.”
The symbol of the Celendor Empire. She’d known they were real creatures, but, “I’ve never seen one. It’s … sort of ugly.”
“They’re rare, especially this close to cities,” he said. “People think they’re poisonous, but they’re not. They just have filthy mouths, and their bites turn foul within a day. They follow whatever they bite until it dies.”
“Gods,” Teriana whispered, watching as the dragon wove from side to side, sizing them up.
“They’re considered vermin. Farmers kill any they come across.”
The dragon hissed, and to her surprise, Marcus took a quick step toward it and hissed back. The lizard stared at him for a minute, and then with shocking speed, spun in a circle and disappeared from sight.
“Bit strange that Celendor uses something considered vermin as its symbol,” she said, sheathing her knife.
“It’s a fitting choice.” He stared at the dirt, mouth drawn into a thin line, and she knew that he was about to tell her their plan of action for meeting with the Senate. And with Cassius.
Her heart was galloping so hard in her chest that she could barely breathe. But she had to do it. Had to ask. “Don’t go into the city.”
Marcus’s face snapped up. “But if—”
“I’ll go,” she said. “By myself. I’ll meet with the Senate—with Cassius—and I’ll tell them about the xenthier. I’ll tell them everything. And I’ll also tell them that you’re dead.”
He opened his mouth, but she couldn’t let him interrupt her now. “I might have to wait until they can prove I’m telling the truth, but then Cassius will have to honor the agreement. He’ll release my mother and my people, and then I’ll cross over with whatever legions he sends and get Titus to give me the Quincense back. And then I’ll…” She swallowed hard, but she couldn’t ask him to give up so much without making sacrifices of her own. “Then I’ll come find you.”
The only sound was the wind in the brush and the distant sound of the rushing Savio.
“Why?” The word sounded torn from his throat. “Why are you asking me to do this? Why are … why are you willing to do this?”
Twin tears rolled down her face. “Because I love you.”
And there it was: she’d said it. The words that had been sitting on her tongue for a long time now, and if she was truthful, even longer in her heart. She was in love with him, and if living apart from her people was the only way to be with him, then she’d do it.
But would he?
“You shouldn’t.” His voice cracked. “I don’t deserve it.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Catching hold of his hands, she squeezed tightly. “I love you and I want to be with you, but the only way that’s possible is if you leave this life behind. Will you do it? For me?”
He didn’t answer, only stared at the ground between them, his breathing shaky. “I…” He pulled his hands from her grip. “I need a minute. I need to think. I … Just don’t go anywhere, all right?”
“All right,” she whispered, watching him disappear into the brush, heading down to the river. Bending her legs, she rested her forehead on her knees, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened.
What did you think? a dark voice whispered inside her head. That he’d give up everyone he cares about just for you?
She squeezed her eyes tighter, hating the flush of fear and embarrassment and hurt that burned her skin.
He’s spent his entire life fighting to get where he is, the voice continued. Why would he give that power up? What can you possibly offer that will compare to what he’s got now?
“Shut up,” she muttered, reaching up to wipe her nose with her sleeve. “You’re underestimating him.”
Except he hadn’t come back. What did that mean? Was he considering her offer or trying to think of a way to let her down gently? Should she go find him?
“He told you to wait,” she muttered. “Maybe for once, you might listen.”
Then hands closed over her shoulders, hauling her upward and dragging a scream of surprise from her throat. She was spun in a circle, finding herself face-to-face with six legionnaires, a 29 stamped on the metal of their breastplates.
“Well, well,” one of them said, grinning. “What do we have here? A Maarin girl.”
“Thought we’d caught the last of you,” another said. “Though I’m sure the consul will be more than happy to add you to his collection.”
“Let me go!” She tried to jerk free, but the hands gripping her were like iron, squeezing hard enough to bruise. She lifted a foot, intent on slamming it down on his instep, but he kicked her in the back of the legs, sending her sprawling.
“Touch her again and all six of you will be whipped until I can see the ground through your rib cages.” Marcus’s voice cut through the air, calm and cold in a way she hadn’t heard in a long time.
Lifting her face, she saw the legionnaires’ faces darken, and one said, “Who are you?”
“Taken a few blows to the head since Bardeen, Carmo, or is it the drink that’s turned your memory to jelly?” Marcus strode toward her, and miraculously, the men moved. “Get up.”
Part of her cringed at his tone, but she understood the necessity, rising swiftly.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” one of them said. “It’s the Thirty-Seventh’s legatus. Aren’t you supposed to be on the other side of the world?”
Marcus fixed the legionnaire with a cold stare, and the older man rolled his shoulders and looked away first, muttering, “Sir.”
“Mine is the business of the Senate and none of your concern.”
“We’re under orders given by the Senate and the consul that all Maarin are to be arrested, sir,” the one called Carmo said. “So while your business may be your own, the girl must come with us.”
“She’s my asset, and she has an agreement with the Senate and the consul,” Marcus countered. “She will remain with me.”
“Then I’m afraid you’ll need to come with us as well, sir,” Carmo replied, a slow smile working its way onto his face. “If all is as you say, I’m sure it won’t take long for this to be cleared up.”
“As you like.” Marcus’s voice was flat. “Lead on.”
He said nothing to her as they followed the legionnaires through the brush, then up a well-trodden road. And the men, perhaps realizing they’d pushed the limits far enough, said nothing to them. It didn’t take long for a camp to come into view, the orderly white tents and campfires at equal intervals eerily familiar. Flags snapped on the wind, the Cel dragon glittering in the sunlight, seeming to watch them as they approached.
The men on the perimeter nodded at the group as they passed, eyes going first to her, but as several of them recognized Marcus, it was he who garnered all the attention. Word spread ahead of them as they walked through the camp, men getting up from their leisure to watch them pass, their faces not particularly friendly. A large tent loomed ahead. The dragon standard, a 29 beneath its claws, gleamed where it was embedded in the ground by the entrance.
