Gilded Serpent, page 7
“That’s a disgusting reason.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
Her jaw worked back and forth, misery painted across her face. Then she said, “Let Quintus go with him.”
“Quintus will recover.”
“Physically, maybe,” she retorted. “But being separated from Miki will destroy him. They need each other, Marcus. They love each other.”
As if he didn’t know that. “Do you think that the other men I discharge aren’t loved? That their loss doesn’t hurt those they leave behind? I can’t make an exception for Quintus or I’ll have dozens of other men in here asking for the same! I especially can’t do this for him, given that everyone would know it was you…”
“That asked you to do it,” she finished for him. “So not only were they injured in defense of me, any chance of them being together has been destroyed because of me.”
“They knew the risks. And the outcome would be the same if Miki had been injured taking Aracam. I don’t make exceptions.”
Except for you.
“Please.” She met his gaze. “Please don’t do this to them.”
He wanted to say yes. For their sake. For hers. “No exceptions, Teriana. Don’t ask me again.”
“Why?” She gave a stool a violent kick, sending it tumbling across the tent. “Why do you have to be this way? Why can’t you for once do the right thing?”
Exhaustion and pain and frustration slammed down on him, and Marcus felt his temper crack. “Let’s not forget that there are those among the Arinoquians with the power to heal Miki. To heal all my men who are lying in that tent, injured beyond a surgeon’s ability to repair. You could help them, but you choose not to in order to protect the people of the West. Just as I choose not to, in order to protect you.”
She looked as though he’d slapped her, and Marcus recognized instantly that he’d gone too far.
“I’m sorry.” Rising to his feet, he added, “I shouldn’t have said that. This is my burden, not yours, and you shouldn’t be made to feel otherwise.”
Teriana stared at the dirt floor between them, face lowered, but he still saw the glint of a tear running down her cheek. “It’s true though, isn’t it?” She lifted her head. “Aren’t we just a pair?”
“Split loyalties always make for difficult choices.”
And it always ended badly.
“Racker hasn’t delivered his report on injuries just yet,” he said slowly. “Things could change. Miki could improve—I’ve seen it happen before.” He didn’t add that the Thirty-Seventh’s surgeon was rarely wrong. “I don’t want to fight about something that might resolve itself without our intervention.”
She gave a slow nod. “Fine. But that doesn’t absolve you of explaining that bullshit you pulled with the clans.”
Grimacing, he righted the stool, gesturing for her to sit and doing the same once she was settled. “My men need to be paid, Teriana. And they need to eat.”
“But you have—” She glanced toward where the chests of coin had once sat, her eyes lingering on the two that remained. “I see.”
“It spends quickly.”
She was quiet, her brow furrowed. “Fine. I understand why you took the gold. But what I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me what you intended to do. Or anyone else, from the sound of it.”
The silence stretched between them, tension mounting with each passing second.
“Because…” He swallowed hard. “As much as I might wish otherwise, I can’t trust you.” Reaching into his belt pouch, he dropped the scrap of paper he’d received from the Katamarcan queen in front of her. “Right now, I’m not entirely certain that I know you, Princess.”
Teriana picked up the scrap of paper, and Marcus felt every muscle in his body twist with tension over what she would say.
“I’m not a princess,” she finally answered, setting the note back down. “I don’t hold that much power over my people.”
“But Ereni said that you do hold that much influence. With the Maarin. And with other rulers in the West?”
She bit down on her lower lip, then gave a reluctant nod.
“Is this the only letter you sent?”
“No. I sent one to Gamdesh as well.”
His stomach soured, knowing that the nation north of them had the military might to put his legions in the ground. “What did it say?”
“I explained the situation. Your intentions. The Empire’s intentions. And I asked for assistance with defeating you.” Her chin trembled. “I sent them within days of us arriving in Arinoquia. If that makes a difference.”
Some of the tension in his chest released, because it did matter that she’d done it during the early days. Before things had … changed between them.
“They would’ve found out eventually,” he said. “I can only assume that the Maarin on this side of the sea would make the information known. If not, I assume—given I received a report that Magnius and Bait have disappeared—that the news was destined to reach them.”
She exhaled, then rested her head in her hands, elbows on the table.
Her braids rocked back and forth, gold and silver and gemstones glittering in the lamplight. How had he not seen it? No Maarin he’d ever met wore what amounted to a crown’s worth of jewelry in their hair—it was a status symbol reserved for the upper echelons of society. And beyond the wealth, all the times she’d spoken of this king or that queen, it had been with the familiarity reserved for individuals one hadn’t just heard of, but that one knew.
He truly was blind when it came to her.
“Have you done anything else?” His voice was raspy. “Is there anything else I should know?”
Teriana didn’t answer for a long time. Finally, she straightened, meeting his gaze. “I need to tell you something about Ashok.”
13
TERIANA
Tell him about the Marked.
The truth sat on the tip of her tongue, begging to be voiced. Because this wasn’t a secret she could keep, not with the Cel growing closer to the Arinoquians by the day and merchant traffic from other kingdoms destined to begin arriving in Aracam’s harbor. And if he found out she had lied about it, especially after this conversation, she didn’t think he’d forgive her.
And yet the thought of giving up that secret made her sick. Yes, he’d kept Hegeria’s healer’s mark a secret, but she thought much of that was due to the guilt he felt over the healer Caradoc dying to save his life. And while the healers were something he could use, they were no danger to him. Unlike many of the other marks.
What would he do if he learned that Bait was capable of turning the tides with such violence as to send the ocean a mile inland, leaving only destruction in its wake? Or of the summoners, who could unleash storms upon them like a weapon? Or perhaps worst of all, what would he do if he learned about Tremon’s marked, warriors with unparalleled skill, many of whom had armies under their command? Would he let them live? Or would he see them as the threat they were and send assassins to hunt them down? They weren’t just names, but people she knew, especially Killian, whom she’d been close with since they were children.
She felt Marcus’s eyes on her. Knew he was waiting for an answer.
Make a choice.
Gritting her teeth, she straightened, meeting his gaze. “I need to tell you something about Ashok.”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “What about him?”
“He’s … he’s not precisely human.”
Silence.
“We call them the corrupted,” she continued. “They’re very dangerous but thankfully also very rare, partially because every nation of the West hunts them down.”
“Dangerous, how?” His voice was cold. “I’ve men hunting him, and if I’ve put them in harm’s way…”
“Unnaturally strong and fast,” she said. “And if he gets his hands on a person, he can drain the life right out of them, killing them by aging them.”
He stared at her, unblinking, then said, “If this creature is as much an enemy to you as he is to me, why keep him a secret? What more are you hiding?”
Her mind raced, desperately seeking a way through this, but there was none.
“I’m going to ask you one more time: What are you not telling me?” His voice was shaking, and fear reared in her mind that she was going to set off one of his attacks. “If you aren’t willing to answer, you can pack your things, because I’m sending you back to the Quincense. I don’t need another backstabber in my camp.”
Her heart dropped. Not only because she’d lose any power she had to stop the Empire if she were sent to that island, but because she’d lose him.
“Well?”
“I…”
He rose in a rapid motion. “Get your things. I’ll order an escort to port.” He started toward the front of the tent.
“Wait.”
He turned around, and she scrubbed the tears from her face. “Every one of the gods grants certain powers to chosen individuals. We call them the Marked. The healers are Hegeria’s. Ashok … he’s one of the Seventh god’s chosen.”
He listened as she explained the various marks, sitting in stony silence once she’d finished.
Finally, he said, “I want to be furious at you for keeping this from me. For lying to me. Except I know why you did it. And I have no ground to stand on in judging you for it.”
There wasn’t forgiveness in his voice, only resignation.
“But how can I trust you knowing that you’ve been lying to my face. Not just before, but after—” He broke off, pressing his hands to the sides of his head as though it pained him. Then he met her gaze. “How do I know what you say you feel for me isn’t just another lie? A way to manipulate me into achieving your ends?”
Her chest hollowed. “Marcus, it’s not. I swear to you, what’s between us is real.”
She reached for him, but he took a rapid step backward, holding up a hand as though to ward her off.
“You know me,” she whispered, her voice choked. “You know I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”
“Do I know you?” he asked. “Because it doesn’t feel like I do.”
“Marcus—”
“I need some air.” He turned toward the entrance of the tent. “Don’t expect me back tonight.”
For what felt an eternity, she stood staring at the entrance to the tent, her guts in knots and head spinning with emotion.
And then she moved.
Heading out into the rain, Teriana stepped through the guards who formed a perimeter around the tent, striding toward the camp gates. Servius was there talking to another legionnaire, but just before she reached them, he exited the camp. The other man turned, and her stomach fell when she recognized Felix.
“I’m going for a walk,” she said to him. “Let me through.”
“No.” He crossed his arms. “You will not leave the confines of this camp. Is that understood?”
“You don’t have any right to give me orders, Felix. Move.”
“No.” He closed the distance between them, leaning down. “This is a legion camp, Teriana, not a harbor alehouse. You don’t just get to come and go as you please.”
She ground her teeth. “I only want to go down to the water.” Though to do what, she didn’t know. If she summoned Magnius, it would mean pulling him away from whatever he was doing with Bait, for the guardian’s telepathy was limited by distance.
“No. I’m not waking men for an escort so you can go for a midnight swim.”
“Then I’ll go by myself.”
“No.”
Everyone was watching them. Waiting to see what she would do. What he would do. And despite feeling more a prisoner than she had in a long time, caution told her this was not the hill to die on. “Fine.”
Turning on her heel, she headed along the interior of the wall, circling the camp. To sit in the command tent would mean stewing, so she walked. And walked. The deluge of rain soaked her to the bone, the cool wind making her shiver, but she ignored her physical discomfort in favor of rehashing every choice she’d made since she’d shaken Marcus’s hand and agreed to take him and the legions across the Endless Seas. Every single one of them felt like a mistake.
Even trying to warn the nations of the West had blown up in her face, the Katamarcan queen having betrayed her confidence, probably to curry favor with the Cel in the hopes of averting an invasion. All that had accomplished was destroying what little trust Marcus had in her, and the note she’d sent the Gamdeshians had yielded better results only in that it had yielded nothing at all.
Feeling the press of her bladder, she veered away from the wall, heading toward the little privy shack allocated for her privacy. The deluge of rain had extinguished the torches, the only light from the singular storm lantern that hung from a post. Probably to keep anyone from accidentally falling into the ditch full of water and waste.
Peering into the darkness, she reached for the privy door. Then a gust of wind hit her in the back, and what felt like feathers brushed her arms. A second later, a hand clamped over her mouth, pushing her inside the privy.
“Easy, Teriana,” a female voice whispered in Gamdeshian. “Kaira sent me.”
Kaira. The name of the Princess made her heart leap, because Kaira was not only the Sultan’s daughter and commander of the mighty army of Gamdesh, she was marked by Tremon.
Teriana nodded, ceasing to struggle, and the woman let go of her. In the darkness, it was impossible to see her face, but as Teriana turned, her hand grazed a bare thigh. The nudity, the brush of feathers, and the arrival from the sky told her all that she needed to know.
This woman was marked by Lern.
“You’re a difficult girl to get alone,” the woman said. “These Empire soldiers have watchful eyes. They often look up.”
What all had she seen from above? The thought made Teriana’s stomach twist. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to try to reach me.”
“You sent word that you needed help. And to warn us.”
“For what good it did.” Teriana shook her head. “Although at least Kaira didn’t betray me like Queen Erdene.”
The shifter huffed out a breath. “Gamdesh is not Katamarca. And your words did more good than you know. Though your people knew the threat the Empire posed, not a one whispered so much as a word until Kaira approached them with a scrap of paper with your name on it. And since then, the other triumvirs have revealed all that they know of the Empire, its armies, and the young man they sent in search of conquest. Thanks to you, Gamdesh knows the magnitude of this threat, and we will act accordingly.”
Fear prickled down Teriana’s spine. “Will you attack?” For as good as the legions were, the Gamdeshian army was equally so, and they had the numbers.
“Perhaps,” the woman answered. “I left Revat some weeks ago, but as I took to the wind, our fleet was sailing north to aid in the evacuation of Mudaire. On its return, we may turn our eyes to Arinoquia.”
“What’s happened in Mudaire?”
“Armies from Derin marching under the Corrupter’s banner invaded Mudamora, and its capital was under siege. How they have fared since, I have not heard.”
Horror filled Teriana, along with the vision Magnius had given her before the crossing of the Twelve’s banners being driven into the mud by the boots of soldiers carrying the flaming circle of the Seventh god. The Six have mercy, but it had already come to pass.
“We’ve no time to discuss Mudamora’s plight,” the shifter said. “Know only that we heard your call and we are watching. And we will not abandon you, Teriana of the Quincense.”
“But what should I do?” she demanded, not wanting the woman to go. Not wanting to lose this connection with the world, though it filled her with equal parts hope and terror.
“Watch. Learn. And trust you’ll know when the moment to make your move is right, for the best way to win a war is to know your enemy.”
“But—”
“You must go. If you linger, they’ll notice.”
“What’s your name?” she asked, desperate for a few moments more with her. For this contact.
“Astara.” And opening the door, the woman pushed her outside.
Trying to act normally, Teriana walked toward the camp, but a second later, she heard the rustle of wings.
And a glance upward revealed the shadow of an enormous hawk disappearing into the night sky.
14
LYDIA
Lydia had been teamed with a group of soldiers for patrols. Told to point out anyone they crossed who had no life in them.
It hadn’t taken long.
She’d thrown up after the soldiers cut off the first blighter’s head. Had fallen to her knees and retched as they’d burned the body, the stink of cooking meat filling her nostrils even as guilt and anguish filled her guts. And in that moment, she’d been certain it couldn’t get worse—that this was the greatest horror she’d experience.
She’d been wrong.
The patter of feet running up stairs filtered out from a manor, and the soldiers paused, glancing at the building. “Squatters,” one of them muttered as he walked to the door, knocking hard. “Open up in the name of the King!”
Silence.
Lydia clenched her teeth, praying that the group she was with would move on. That they’d make it through today without killing anyone.
But the gods didn’t answer.
Instead, the soldier kicked in the door, the rest of the team moving swiftly inside, Lydia forced to run with them. They moved through the house, the men yanking open closets and looking under furniture. Upstairs, they moved from room to room, weapons in hand, until at last, a kicked-in door revealed a starved and filthy family crouching next to a wall. The children were crying softly, the mother and two older women attempting to quiet them. All very much alive.
Except for one.
The soldiers glanced to Lydia, and swallowing hard, she pointed at the mother. “Her.”
“You’re sure?”
Her throat closed up so that she couldn’t speak, but Lydia managed to nod. Yet as they moved on the woman, swords raised, the children screaming as they dragged their mother away, she said, “Wait! Let me … let me at least try to help her.”
