Page 15 of Scorched Earth

Her heart skipped, then sped, not only because of the gravity of his tone but because hermotherwas involved.

“The story you’ve been told was that Lydia’s mother was a stranger to me. A nameless pregnant woman who died in the gutter, whose child I took pity upon. But that is not the truth. I knew her—knew her well—although it had been long years since we’d last spoken. Her name was Camilla.”

That… was no great revelation, but Teriana remained quiet, sensing the story was far from over.

“We met by chance in our youth. I was quite entranced by her, if truth be told, but she saw me only as a friend. A friend whom she eventually trusted enough to confess she was not from the East, but had rather come here by accident, or impulse, I suspect, via a xenthier stem originating on the far side of the Endless Seas. From a kingdom known as Mudamora.”

All the blood drained from Teriana’s face, only to be replaced with a swift flood of elation. “I knew it!” she cried. “I knew that was where Lydia was from. It was written all over her face. But… who is Lydia’s blood father? If Camilla was here…”

“She went back.” His smile was sad. “She’d searched for years for a route back to the West, as did I using my significant resources, but there were only whispers. Rumors. Nothing I deemed safe enough for her to risk, so I took it upon myself to befriend a Maarin captain. Your mother.”

He gave a soft laugh. “Tesya was like you when she was younger. Willing to break every rule, so it was easy enough to convince her to take Camilla back to the West. They remained friends, and Tesya would bring me letters from Camilla when she could.”

The shock of what he was telling her rendered Teriana mute, because no one,no one,had held to the mandate that East must not meet West more than her mother.

“It is the crime of youth to think that the old never have secrets, the crime of the old to think that the youth will never discover them,” he said. “At any rate, through our correspondence, I learned that Camilla had wed. To a king, no less. I yet held a torch for her, so I took the news rather poorly and ceased correspondence. A petty choice that I came to regret.”

Camilla. A king. “Oh gods,” Teriana whispered. “Oh gods, Queen Camilla Falorn?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “I ignored her letters for years, but it was still me she came to when she was mortally wounded and needed aid. ‘Care for her, Appius,’ she said. ‘Keep her safe.’” He rested his head in his hands. “I failed her.”

Teriana’s throat felt thick, the story too much to take in, but the part that stuck was… “Lydia is Kitaryia Falorn.”

“Yes.” He lifted his head. “Your mother came to Celendrial to tell me that Camilla was missing and presumed dead, only to discover that I already knew. She said that dark forces desired Kitaryia dead, and together we decided it best that I raise her in Celendor wheresuch forces have little power. Here she’d be safe. Which she was, until my fear for her future put her in the hands of a monster as bad as any that hunted her in Mudamora.”

In her own fears for Lydia’s future, Teriana had tried to pull her in a direction equally dangerous. “That’s why Mum wouldn’t let me help her. Why she was trying to keep us separated.”

“Yes.” He stared, unseeing. “You both thought we weren’t paying attention, but we were. Knew that it was only a matter of time until you told her the truth, and her questions would demand answers we weren’t willing to give.” He shook his head. “Maybe that would have been better. For her to go back to where she belonged. Maybe she’d still live.”

For so long, Teriana had believed that she had been the one to instigate everything that had happened. That she’d been the one to open the door between East and West. Now she realized how shortsighted that had been, the tangled web of connections across the seas far greater than she could have imagined.

A knock sounded at the door.

Valerius climbed to his feet, fixing his clothing before he said, “Yes?”

Austornic opened the door, and though his face bore no emotion, the young legatus radiated excitement. “The Senate supports Cassius’s proposal to send reinforcements to join the Thirty-Seventh and Forty-First. The Fifty-First will travel to Bardeen tomorrow, then make the crossing to Arinoquia.” His brown eyes met Teriana’s. “All that’s left to decide is whether you’ll be joining us.”

Given Celendrial’s size, its prison was rather small.

Not because the city lacked criminals, but because in Celendor, the vast majority of offenses were punishable with death. It was something of a sport to them, and hangings were viewed as a suitable family outing, though the peak form of entertainment was held in the stadium, where hundreds of prisoners would be put onto the field with wild animals of every sort. Teriana had heard that if you survived the animals, you would earn your freedom.

She’d also heard that no one ever survived.

Cassius had sent instructions to meet him at the prison, where he’d make arrangements for her to speak to her people. From her vantage point next to Austornic, the familiar blue sails of a Maarin ship were visible in the harbor. It made her think of theQuincense,the ship that had been her home all her life, which she hadn’t seen in far too long. Except this vessel had Cel sailors moving about thedeck making it ready, the sight making her uneasy because it meant Cassius was certain of what her decision would be.

“How long will it take to reach Arinoquia?” she asked.

“We’ll leave at dawn,” Austornic, or Nic, as he’d told her to call him, said. “I’ve already sent messages ahead, and what we need will be gathered and ready for us in Hydrilla. That’s the fortress city near to the xenthier stem.”

“I know where it is.”

“Unfortunately, it’s very time-consuming taking a full legion through a path, as we can only go one at a time. But four days, give or take.”

“You’ll want to banish vagueness from your vocabulary,” she said mechanically. “Marcus likes accurate answers.”

Nic didn’t answer, and Teriana knew what he was thinking. That there was every chance Marcus was dead, which would mean it was Titus whom he’d be serving beneath.

“Does it make you nervous?” she asked. “The uncertainty of what you’ll be walking into?”