Gilded Serpent, page 58
Breaking off, he rose and went to fill two glasses with lemon water, handing one to her. Resuming his seat again, he met her gaze. “I am the one you have cause to be angry with, Teriana, because I was the one who prevented her from warning you.”
Her hand trembled, water spilling over the rim of the glass. “Why?”
“To protect her.” He took a large swallow of water, then set the glass aside. “Vibius would have told Cassius she’d interfered, and I feared the consequences. Feared I’d be unable to keep her safe from him, should he try to do her harm in retaliation for upsetting his plans. I sacrificed you and your crew in order to keep her safe, and yet she’s still dead.”
“How?” She could barely get the word past her lips.
“The morning the Quincense was towed into Celendrial’s ports, Cassius requested a sojourn between him and Lydia at the baths. I did not wish for her to go, but she did anyway, likely hoping to intercede on your behalf.”
The world spun in and out of focus, but Teriana forced herself to concentrate. To listen.
“She went into the baths, that much I know is fact. But shortly thereafter, Cassius sent word that she’d never arrived. A search began, but the servants working in the bath’s gardens revealed that a girl fitting her description was seen sneaking away. Others spoke of seeing her in the city. And more still that they’d seen her boarding a ship destined for Sibern. But I don’t believe it was her.”
Reaching across the space between them, Senator Valerius took her hands, his skin hot against her icy fingers. “Teriana, she fought against him so hard. And I know in my heart that she’d have died before abandoning you. She went into those baths, but I don’t think she ever came out. Not alive.”
A whining sound filled her ears, and she realized that it was coming from her lips. That she was shaking, tears flooding down her face, and a gasping sob tore from her lips.
Lydia was dead.
Lydia was murdered.
Lydia was gone.
She screamed, wrenching out of Senator Valerius’s grip and falling to the floor, where she pounded her fists against the wood, harder and harder, seeking the pain. Relishing it.
Dimly, she heard Austornic and the other boys burst into the room. Heard the senator murmuring that it was only grievous news, to give her space, and the doors shutting behind them.
And then he was kneeling in front of her.
“I grieve with you,” he said, drawing her up. “She was my child. The light of my life and the blood of a woman who saved me in my darkest hours. But tears will not bring her back. Which means revenge is the only thing left to us.”
“How do we hurt him?” she asked, her tongue thick. All this time, she’d believed Lydia had been the cause of her woe, but it was the opposite. It was because of her that Lydia was dead.
“Powerful as Cassius is,” Senator Valerius answered, “he is still subject to the law. If it can be proven that he arranged Lydia’s murder, he will be stripped of the consulship. And if I have my way, he’ll hang.”
“I don’t see how I can help.” She scrubbed at her eyes, trying to stop more tears from forming. “I didn’t know she was even dead. When I saw he had Treatise, I thought she’d betrayed me because we hadn’t helped her escape the betrothal.”
And looking back, she felt sick to have believed such a thing about her friend, who didn’t have a petty bone in her body. Who’d gladly suffer to save anyone she loved anguish.
“You have the ear of the Thirty-Seventh’s legatus.”
She stiffened, looking up.
“I know the boy was involved with Cassius’s scheming.” He shifted off his knees so he was sitting on the floor next to her. “Lydia sneaked onto Cassius’s property and overheard a conversation between the two. Learned that Cassius blackmailed the boy into ordering his legion to vote for Cassius in the elections.”
“Didn’t order them,” she muttered. “He gave them the choice. But the blackmail part is accurate enough. Cassius told Marcus that he’d have the Thirty-Seventh sent somewhere awful if they didn’t do it.”
Lydia’s father’s brow furrowed. “At worst, it would’ve been only for the length of Cassius’s term. And even then, Cassius doesn’t have total authority over such matters and he’d have had a hard time arguing a legion of that caliber be underutilized. Any legatus would know that, him especially.”
Teriana rubbed at her temples, trying to sort through the mess of politics and lies and intrigue, unsure of what she should say. Not wanting to betray Marcus’s confidence out of hand. “He wanted to escape.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s tired of being under the Senate’s control—of being told where to go and who to conquer without any respite.” Biting her lip, she added, “I’ve seen firsthand the horror of what they do and what it costs them—he wanted the opportunity to give his men a better future, and he thought the Dark Shores was a chance for that.”
Senator Valerius was silent, finally saying, “He’s darkened the future of a good many living in the Empire to achieve that freedom.”
“He knows. But something you should know about Marcus is that he’ll do whatever it takes to protect those he cares about, and that legion is everything to him.”
“Not everything, now is it?” The senator climbed awkwardly to his feet, pacing up and down the room. “From the way he conducted himself today, I can only assume he’s quite taken with you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“If he knows anything about Lydia’s fate, he might be willing to tell you.”
Her eyelids snapped open. “Are you suggesting he was involved?”
“Charming as I’m sure he can be, Teriana, please keep in mind that the boy is a trained killer with an entire legion of trained killers at his disposal. And Cassius would not have done the deed himself—it’s not his way.”
Was Marcus involved? Her blood chilled. Had he sent someone like Quintus to kill Lydia while she sat defenseless in the baths?
Bile rose in her throat, but then she shook her head. “No. His involvement doesn’t make any sense. By the time Lydia was killed, the Senate had already agreed that Marcus would be in command of the mission. He’d have no reason to do Cassius’s dirty work.”
“Teriana, he’s been doing the Empire’s dirty work for a good portion of his life.” His voice was soft, as though he were breaking bad news to a particularly naive child. “He’s arranged assassinations before—I know that for a fact.”
As did she. And maybe she was naive, but still she said, “There’s a difference between doing it on the orders of the Senate and to satisfy the personal grievances of a single senator. He wouldn’t have agreed to it, especially given he hates Cassius.”
“You seem to have come to know him well.”
Lydia’s father fell silent, and when Teriana glanced in his direction, she saw that his eyes were considering. Then he asked, “Why does he hate him?”
She opened her mouth to point out that the answer was obvious, then closed it again. Because it wasn’t.
“The question remains: If he knows anything about Lydia, do you think he’ll tell you?”
Swallowing hard, she nodded. “He trusts me.”
“Do you think he’d be willing to testify against Cassius in the courts?”
For the sake of taking away the consulship from Cassius, she had to believe it was so. Except if he’d always had knowledge, why wouldn’t he have used it before? “I can ask him.”
Senator Valerius reached down for her hand, drawing her up. “I’ll arrange for you to see him tomorrow. Cassius seems eager to have him out of Celendrial, and perhaps this is part of the reason why.”
Allowing him to lead her out of the library, she avoided the curious eyes of Austornic and the other boys, though they followed. Senator Valerius took her to Lydia’s rooms. “You can rest in here, Teriana. They are as she left them. I’ll have the servants bring you something to eat.”
Shutting the door, she crossed the room and climbed onto Lydia’s bed, burying her face in the pillows and inhaling, searching for the familiar scent of rosewater and perfume.
But they smelled stale. Lifeless. Not like Lydia at all.
A strange desperation filled her, and Teriana fell off the bed, stumbling into the closet and grabbing dress after dress, searching for the scent that would trigger her memory. That would pull her back into a time when Lydia had been alive and well.
Her best friend.
Her sister.
But it was as though she’d never lived in these rooms. As though she’d never lived at all.
“I’m sorry.” She dropped to her knees, pressing her forehead to the tile. “I’m sorry!”
Great heaving sobs tore from her lips. Her chest ached, and her face was slick with snot and tears. The world swam around her. A world of loss and hurt and pain. And betrayal. Not Lydia’s but hers. If only she’d taken Lydia away that day, none of this would have happened.
It is your fault.
You did this.
And maybe that was so. But it was Cassius who was the villain.
The wild twist of emotions running through her demanded that she go in search of his blood, but the odds of her success were slim. Which meant she needed a better weapon.
She couldn’t wait for tomorrow. Not when she knew for a fact that Marcus was in reach.
Easing open the window, she leaned over the edge, searching the darkness of the gardens below for signs of the young legionnaires tasked with watching over her. She caught sight of a flicker of motion, the gleam of light against a metal breastplate, and she watched as the shadow navigated the pathways. When he was out of sight, she climbed up on the sill, and taking a deep breath, she jumped.
Air whistled through her hair as she fell, her boots making a soft thud against the dirt as she fell into a roll. On her feet in a flash, she hurried through the gardens in the direction of the Domitius villa, pausing from time to time to ensure she wasn’t being followed.
The wall between the two properties was ancient, the stacked stones green with moss but easy enough to climb. Rolling over the top, she glanced to ensure the footing was good, and then she jumped.
“What are you doing here?”
A gasp tore from her mouth and she whirled, drawing her knife before it dawned on her that it was Marcus who’d spoken.
He was dressed in the garments of a patrician man, a long tunic and perfectly draped toga, though she noted he had a knife in one hand, which he swiftly slipped away. In the moonlight, his face looked pale and drawn with exhaustion, his eyes slightly swollen, and faintly, she heard a wheeze to his breath. “Are you all right?”
“It’s been a trying evening.”
Belatedly she remembered that this had once been his home. That these people were his family. “What are you doing out here in the dark?”
He was quiet. Then he said, “I was coming to see you.”
“Fairly certain you could’ve come through the front gate.” Though in fairness, she probably could’ve done the same.
Tension hung between them, as though a chasm had split the earth and they stood on opposite sides.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was so soft, she barely heard it.
“Valerius told me you argued with Cassius. Tried to get them to free my people but that the Senate wouldn’t agree to it.” She bit her lip. “I know you did everything you could.”
He didn’t answer, only reached out to take her hand.
“We’ll just find another path.” Fear was rising in her chest, but she wasn’t sure why. “A better one. Then they’ll have to let my people go.”
“Teriana—”
“There’s something I need to ask you,” she interrupted before she lost her nerve. “Valerius believes his daughter was murdered by Cassius—she was supposed to marry him. Do you know anything about it?” Her jaw trembled, and she sucked in a deep breath before adding, “Lydia was my best friend.”
104
KILLIAN
The worst part was not being able to see.
Agrippa had bound his wrists and ankles, but it was the black sack he’d pulled over Killian’s head that was driving him mad, his vision reduced to flickers of light and shadows as the pair led him through Rufina’s fortress. “Best to keep her unaware for as long as possible,” Agrippa had said, and though there was merit to the thought, Killian was starting to wonder if he’d stacked the odds so far out of his favor that not even his mark was going to get him out alive.
“We weren’t expecting you, General,” a voice to Killian’s left said. “We were under the assumption you were to remain in Deadground.”
“You know what they say about assumptions.” Agrippa’s voice was light, but Killian didn’t miss the edge to it. “Now tell Her Majesty I’m here. And that I’ve brought her a gift.”
“Who is he?”
“Not for you, you pus-filled pimple,” Agrippa answered. “Now open the bloody door.”
There was a thud, then the faint creak of a heavy door being opened, and a moment later, Killian heard the speaker say, “General Agrippa is here to see you, Your Majesty. He has a prisoner with him.”
“It had better be a prisoner of note,” Rufina’s voice purred. “He’s not supposed to be here.”
“Walk,” Agrippa muttered, jerking on Killian’s arm. Then he said loudly, “Rufina, my queen. You are a vision, a delight for eyes that have too long been deprived of true beauty.”
“And you are as tedious as always, Agrippa. What are you doing here? I told you to remain in Deadground, though I’ve heard you’ve been doing a fine job ignoring my commands, as usual.”
“I’ve expensive tastes that require funding,” Agrippa answered, and Killian’s arm lifted as the other man shrugged. “For me to remain at your beck and call required some creativity on my part.”
Rufina huffed out an amused breath. “You’re lucky I value your skill set, because removing your tongue holds a certain appeal.”
Killian turned his head, tracking the sound of Rufina’s voice, which came from the far side of the room. A large room, judging from the way their boots echoed.
“All the girls in Deadground thank you for your restraint, Majesty.” Agrippa gave Killian a shove, sending him toppling to his knees. “And as a sign of my continued loyalty to your crown and cause, please accept this gift.”
Boots thudded against the stone floor as Rufina approached, and Killian’s skin crawled with the knowledge that the corrupted queen was within reach. And him powerless to do anything about it. Then a hand caught hold of the sack over his head and yanked it off.
“Well, now,” Rufina said softly. “You really have outdone yourself, Agrippa.”
Blinking against the bright torchlight, Killian’s eyes fixed on Rufina standing before him. Though he knew she was much older, the corrupted queen appeared in her early twenties, with pale skin and black hair that hung nearly to her waist. Her eyes were set at the upturned angle common to those of northern Mudamora, though hers were dilated black pits rimmed with crimson flame. And on her forehead was the mark of Hegeria, the tattooed half-moon faded with age.
“Where is Malahi?” he demanded between his teeth. “What have you done to her?”
“Ahh, but of course. That’s why you’re here.” Rufina smiled. “The Princess. Or is she the Queen? I confess, I can’t keep track of whose head wears the crown of Mudamora these days. Though I do know who rules.”
Her fist caught him in the face hard enough that Killian saw stars as he fell backward.
Then Agrippa was standing between them. “If you could hold on to your restraint a heartbeat longer before you kill him, Majesty, there’s the matter of my compensation.”
Rufina huffed out an aggrieved breath. “You’re the commander of my armies, Agrippa. Bounty hunting is beneath you.”
“Very little is beneath me, Majesty,” Agrippa answered. “Which has long been to your advantage. And I’d add it would also be to your advantage to be seen holding to your word lest your word cease to have any meaning at all.”
The flames around Rufina’s eyes flared, but she reached out and patted Agrippa’s cheek, smirking as he flinched away from her touch. “Very well, Agrippa. What was it I said? A thousand gold coins?”
“Five thousand,” Agrippa answered. “Getting him here alive was no small amount of work.”
“An expensive life.” Rufina knelt in front of Killian, her eyes roving over him, her palm curving around his cheek. “But well worth it.”
He felt the pull and recoiled, but Rufina caught him by the back of the head, holding him in place. “This will be a pleasure,” she whispered. “I think I’ll do it slowly. Savor the thrill of consuming one of the Marked.”
Another pull, and there was nothing he could do to get away from her. It had always been a slim hope that he’d survive this, but all that mattered was getting Malahi free.
Then Agrippa caught hold of his shoulders, wrenching Killian from Rufina’s grasp. “Before you get too far along there, Your Grace … I want something else on top of the gold.”
This wasn’t part of the plan.
A frown creased Rufina’s forehead, her eyes flicking away from Killian. “What?”
“I want an end to our arrangement.” Agrippa rocked back on his heels. “I wish to be free to go my own way.”
“Tragically, I have need of you,” she said. “I’ve not found another commander with your … prowess, so I’m afraid you’ll have to content yourself with gold and women.”
“I told you I brought you a prize, and I meant it,” Agrippa said, and Killian’s blood chilled. “Who better to lead your armies than the man who beat them on the field?”
“He won’t fight for me,” she answered. “My master says he can’t be turned.”
“In my experience, it’s all about finding the right incentive. Or the right threat.”
No. Please, no.
Rufina cocked her head, eyes glittering with interest, and Killian lunged, trying to grab Agrippa, desperate to stop him, but the other man only stepped back.
