Page 189 of Scorched Earth

Shock radiated through to her core, and Teriana rounded on Marcus’s sister. “Pardon?”

“Lucius Cassius is a monster,” Cordelia said. “A villain of the first order who cares only for power. Total, all-encompassing power. This moment has been a lifetime in the making for him, and Cassius will stop at nothing to see it through. Those who aid him rise high while those who stand against him find themselves in a shallow grave. He’s extending service of existing legions. Increasing child tithes, including paying the poor to give up more sons to Lescendor, all of which is paid for by increased taxes on the provinces. Cassius needs to be stopped, and there is no one in the East who has the power to do so.”

“But you think Marcus does? You think he has the ability to, what? Lead a coup against the Senate?”

“Not the Senate. Against an unlawful dictatorship.” Cordelia leaned forward. “Do you know why Celendor is called an empire despite no one having sat on the throne for generations?” Not waiting for a response, she continued, “Because it never formally declared itself a republic. The last emperor and every one of his blood relatives were murdered, but instead of formally ending the autocracy, they left the seat open, the men behind the assassination jockeying among themselves to win the throne. The Senate rose only because no one had the strength to claim power. Long has it been accepted that no one would, but Cassius clearly believes otherwise. Today, dictator, but perhaps tomorrow, Emperor. And in that role, he has the power to dissolve the Senate, creating a position for himself with total control over Celendor and her provinces. How long until he’s the Emperor of all of Reath?”

“If his dictatorship is unlawful, then why doesn’t the Senate unite against him?” Teriana demanded.

“Because he controls the legions,” Cordelia snapped. “Or at least, enough of them that no one dares whisper a word against him. Hostus and his men freely murder citizens in the streets for speaking their mind, and while Cassius has not yet been so bold as to murder another senator, it is only a matter of time. The only person with the military strength to remove him from power is my brother, but he won’t do it, for the same reason he agreed to murder Lydia. So tell me, Teriana, will you agree to speak to him on my behalf or not?”

The stakes kept growing higher, and for all Teriana desired to extract herself from this game of power, every step she took found her more deeply entangled. And always, it felt like her role was to be the tool everyone else used to control Marcus.

Yet what would happen if she said no? If she refused, and Cassius’s power grew to the point that no one could stop him? The point where he became a mortal version of the Corrupter himself? What did her feelings matter in the face of that? What didshematter in the face of such a nightmare? “Fine.”

Cordelia blinked, but her surprise lasted only a heartbeat. “You swear on all that you hold dear that you’ll use this information for the good of the people of Reath, not to enact revenge for your personal grievances?”

Teriana’s imagination filled her mind’s eye with the vision of Marcus holding Lydia under the water, then shoving her down the outtake drain like refuse. The same hands that had touched every part of her. Her heart screamed with the need to make him suffer in any way possible.

Except Reath had suffered enough for her selfishness.

“I won’t swear that I’ll never take revenge,” Teriana finally said. “But I do swear that I won’t use whatever you tell me to do so.”

Cordelia was quiet for a long moment, her fingers toying with the embroidery on her dress, and it occurred to Teriana that the woman was afraid.

Morethan afraid.

Yet Cordelia only drew in a steadying breath and said, “Marcus is not my father’s second-born son. He was first born, after me, and his real name is Gaius Domitius.”

Of all the things that Teriana had thought Cordelia might say, this had not even been a glimmer of a thought, and the shock of it rendered her speechless.

“That might seem like such a small thing,” Cordelia continued. “To switch one son for the other. Except there is no law in Celendorthat is more sacrosanct than those regarding child-tithes to the legions. Familiesmustgive their second-born son, no matter the circumstances, the only exemption being if that boy dies before the age of seven. It is a law that prevents families from cherry-picking amongst their children, that prevents them from sending their weak son to the legions while keeping their strong son as heir.”

Teriana felt the blood drain from her face, her lips parting in shock, and Cordelia gave a tight nod. “He was the sweetest boy, but he was always sick. Always collapsing because he couldn’t breathe, and nothing any of the physicians tried helped him. My mother nearly died birthing my youngest sister, so another son was out of the question unless my father set her aside, which he refused to do. Our brother, by contrast, was as strong as a boy could be, unlikely to die from anything but his own stupidity. An imperfect heir was better than my father’s fortune going to a distant cousin, so my parents resolved to fool the system. A journey abroad beforeMarcusdeparted for Lescendor, and lo and behold, the hot springs healed what the physicians could not, and Gaius came back strong and healthy.”

Snatching up her water, Cordelia drained the glass. “There was no question in their minds that Lescendor would kill my brother immediately, but it was a sacrifice they were willing to make. The day my father took him to Lescendor, I followed, and I heard what my father said. ‘There is honor in this, my son. I will not forget the sacrifice you’ve made for the sake of our family.’”

Teriana abruptly wished it was rum, not water, in her glass, because, gods, no parent should ever be so cruel.

“Heknewthey were sacrificing him, but… but he believed they were right to do it.” A tear trickled down Cordelia’s cheek. “In his mind, going to Lescendor would ensure that my mother, our sisters, and I would be protected when Father passed. And once it was done, once he was enrolled under our brother’s name, he knew that the secret needed to be kept at all costs. For if the truth were ever to be discovered, he, our brother, and our father would be executed in the Forum. My mother would be stripped of everything, even the clothes on her back, as would I and our sisters if we were yet unwed.”

Marcus’s sister wiped away the tear. “I heard my parents speaking when they thought no one was listening. Their hopes that he’d die quickly so as not to suffer. Then their fear when he didn’t, because as long as he lived, the crime hung over their heads. My father was furious when Marcus rose the ranks and won the title of legatus, because he was certain the scrutiny would be our family’s damnation.There was a time they even considered paying assassins to kill him, and I begged them to reconsider. Only my absolute certainty that, even under pain of torture, Marcus would never tell convinced my father to spare his life.”

Teriana’s lips parted, but no words came forth, as she had none that would convey her disgust for Marcus’s parents. So instead she said, “Cassius found out?”

“Yes.” Cordelia stared into her empty glass. “That’s how he blackmailed Marcus. Made him choose between his family’s lives and Lydia’s. And that’s why it will not be easy to convince him to turn on Cassius, because if Cassius goes down, so does the Domitius family. Never mind that my parents deserve to be punished for what they did. Never mind that my father deserves tofuckinghang.”

Teriana picked up the pitcher and refilled Cordelia’s glass.

“It’s not a matter of self-preservation,” Cordelia continued. “Marcus doesn’t value his own life enough for that to be a factor. But it’s so seared into his heart and mind that he needs to protect our family that he’ll allow Reath to burn beneath Cassius’s rule just to spare our lives. We are not worth it, Teriana. On my life, we are not worth it, but it’s who Marcus is. Willing to do the worst of things to protect those he loves. His family. The Thirty-Seventh.” Blue-grey eyes fixed on her. “But above all,you.”

Teriana’s blood chilled, and seemingly of its own accord, her hand slipped into her pocket to grip the hair ornament.

“For you, he might do the right thing,” Cordelia said. “For you, he might turn on Cassius.”

Teriana tightened her grip, the golden mast of the ship digging into her palm as she squeezed, every part of her hating what Cordelia was asking even though she couldn’t fault the woman’s reasoning. “If Marcus does this,” she said softly, “and Cassius reveals the truth, what will happen to him?”

Cordelia’s chin trembled. “He’ll hang.”