Page 17 of Scorched Earth

Hostus’s laugh echoed through the prison. “None of those holes are deep enough to contain me.” Pulling his gladius loose, he ran the blade along the metal bars with resounding clangs, shouting, “It’s bath time, you filthy ingrates!”

There were dozens of the Twenty-Ninth on duty around those holes, and all of them moved on cue. Teriana blinked back tears, refusing to watch what they were doing but unable to drown out the splashing and cries of distress from the prisoners. Nor the acrid smell.

“This is not acceptable, Hostus,” Nic said between gritted teeth. “I will raise this with the Senate before I depart.”

Hostus broke off his laughter. Dropping Teriana’s wrist, he whirled, catching the boy by the throat and slamming the young primus against the bars. Pullo moved to interfere, but more of the Twenty-Ninth were on them in a heartbeat, knocking him back. Two of them stepped close to Teriana, eyes cold as snakes as they backed her away.

“You aren’t going to say a thing, puppy,” Hostus whispered. “For if you do, you won’t wake up tomorrow in your camp, but rather in the bottom of one of these holes. Be assured, Iwillchoose a prisoner who will be delighted for your company.”

Knowing that any intervention on her part would only make things worse for Nic, Teriana twisted on her heels and broke into a run. Her boots smacked the stone floor with heavy thuds, Hostus’s curses chasing Teriana down the corridor. The cells full of holes fell away, replaced with large rooms filled with men and women chained to the wall, but none of them were her people.

What if this had been a trick?

What if they weren’t down here, and this was merely a perverse way to lock her up in prison?

What if…

Her thoughts trailed away, not because of the scowling men who’d stepped from their posts to intercept her, but because beyond them, in a large cell, were familiar faces.

“Let her pass,” Hostus ordered, though she barely heard him as she walked up to the bars, gripping them tightly as she stared inside.

Dark-skinned faces stared back at her, Maarin eyes all swirling grey seas of misery, though some lightened to a faded blue as she was recognized. “It’s Teriana,” many of them whispered. “Teriana of theQuincense. The Triumvir’s daughter.”

Most of the men were shackled by the ankles, but though the women and children were unbound, they had no more freedomof space with the number of them stuffed into the chamber. They were filthy, clothes ragged and stained, and faces gaunt with hunger. Many looked ill, others bearing injuries that oozed with infection, and in the corners, some forms were still.

This is your fault,her conscience whispered.This would never have happened, if not for you.

Abruptly she felt the brush of warmth against her cheek.

Hostus was watching her.

His lips were slightly parted, his breathing rapid—relishing her misery in a way that caused her to recoil.

“This is almost as good as cutting you open,” he whispered. “Shame Marcus isn’t here to enjoy his part of this horror show.”

Don’t let him provoke you. Nic’s warning filled her head, and Teriana swallowed down the mouthful of saliva she’d been about to spit into his face. “I want to speak to them.”

Disappointment that she hadn’t reacted filled his eyes and he blew out an irritated breath. “On your bellies,” he ordered. “By orders of the Consul and Senate, one hundred of you are to be granted liberty. That is, if Teriana agrees to the price.”

Murmurs filled the air, her people all obediently falling to their bellies as one of the guards unlocked the bars. Teriana pushed past him, filth squishing beneath her feet as she moved into the cell. Though her people remained prone, heads turned to regard her, waiting.

She didn’t know what to say.

Did not know what words could possibly make this situation better, given she stood polished, clean, and well-fed while they suffered. Nothing she’d endured compared to this, and she wanted to scream in rage at Madoria for choosing her as her champion against the Cel, for she’d failed so miserably.

Yet seeing her people like this also brought clarity as to her purpose, and Teriana turned to Hostus. “Tell Cassius we have an accord. Six months.”

Hostus smiled, the answer seeming to please him. “Then you may choose your hundred.”

“I’ve negotiated for the freedom of one hundred souls.” Her voice was hoarse. “The rest to be freed when I fulfill my obligations to the Senate. I negotiated for all the children, but I think the rest should not be my decision.”

“But that was the deal,” Hostus crooned. “Itmustbe your decision, Teriana. You must personally choose each one. And I’ll personally cut the throat of anyone who opens their mouth to assist you.”

Her hands balled into fists, nails cutting into her palms, every part of her wanting to lash out in violence.

Except that would be giving him exactly what he wanted.

“Fine.” Her mouth tasted of copper, the insides of her cheeks bleeding where she’d bit them. “If I touch your head, please go to the door. The legatus’s men will escort you above, where you will be brought to the ship waiting for you in the harbor. They have committed to your safety as long as you do not invite violence. Please don’t give them an excuse.”