Page 277 of Scorched Earth

He had a thousand questions, the most critical being how well informed she was. By both mortal and supernatural sources. There was no doubt in Marcus’s mind that the Seventh knew his heart and mind, but whether he’d communicated that to Rufina would only be known if Marcus was still alive at the end of this conversation. “Whether I should call you enemy or ally.”

Rufina’s full lips curved, and she leaned forward, the rings on her fingers glittering in the torchlight as she purred, “Which do you want to be, Marcus?”

Since it was what she was offering, he took the opportunity to look her over. Dressed in black leather that clung to every curve, she appeared little older than he was himself, though given that she was corrupted, she could be his grandmother’s age and he wouldn’t know it. Her long dark hair hung in silky waves and a lock of it pooled on the table next to her elbow. Ivory skin without flaw stretched over high cheekbones and a straight nose, but it was hard to see her as beautiful with eyes like the pits of the underworld itself watching his every move. Eyes that may well have watched while Nic and the rest of the Fifty-First had died slowly and painfully, and the hate Marcus felt for her and her master was rivaled only by his hatred of Cassius. Everything about this creature disgusted him, but he gave her an appreciative smile. “I think we could be friends, Majesty. But only if we come to certain accommodations.”

Rufina’s head tilted as she considered, and he wondered if her power allowed her to hear the too rapid beat of his heart. If she knew that his confidence was a long-practiced act that hid his fear, this would all go to shit, leaving him dead or worse. But all she said was, “I’m listening.”

“Your blight is a problem,” he said. “Not only do I desire to keep my men among the living, there is no profit to be had from a wasteland full of walking corpses.”

“You might prefer them dead, Legatus. They are much more obedient.”

He huffed out an amused breath. “Obedient to you, which I think presents obvious problems for me.”

Rufina lifted one shoulder and smiled.

“Is it within your power to cease the spread of the blight?” he asked. “Or have you unleashed something that is beyond your control?”

She was silent for a moment, and Marcus waited for her to hedge,to give him a vague answer, but then she said, “It is within my control to cease the spread, should I desire to do so.”

“Do you?”

“Not yet.”

“That’s a problem.”

“Only for you.”

Battles were won and lost by knowing one’s opponent. In understanding what it was the other side wished to achieve and what they were willing to do to achieve it. Power. Wealth.

Revenge.

Though Marcus did not know this woman’s story, the rightness of the latter settled upon him, because there could be no other motivation to justify the wasteland Rufina left in her wake. What did power mean if there was no one among the living to control? What did wealth mean if there was no one to flaunt it before? There was only one thing total destruction achieved, and it was vengeance.

The torches crackled as the tension between them simmered, and he said, “It’s a problem for you as well, Your Majesty, because if you won’t give me what I want, this is how it’s going to go. I will withdraw my armies and cool my heels in Gamdesh while the united armies of Mudamora and Anukastre go to war against you. It will be long and taxing, but eventually they’ll triumph. At which point I’ll makemymove, returning to Mudamora, crushing its weakened army until they submit to my authority and then funneling the fruits of your failure back to the East.”

Rufina did not so much as blink as she said, “I’ve heard yourfunnelswere destroyed by the Maarin.”

He’d been prepared for her to know that detail, but Marcus still silently cursed.

“All the more reason for me to withdraw to Gamdesh and put my resources to securing more paths. For I assure you, the Maarin’s gambit will not work twice.” Resting his elbows on the table, Marcus said, “We can work together and both achieve what we want, Your Majesty. Or you can make yourself a problem that I need to solve, which will not go well for you. I will get what I want, one way or another. I always do.”

Silence.

Silence was normally his weapon, but for all everything he’d said was true, Marcus felt as though he was on the backfoot, the desire to keep talking, to elicit some form of reaction from her nearly overwhelming him.

“And why is it,” she finally said, “that you believe that Mudamora will triumph when their dead all rise to serve me?”

“Because the blight has risen and been destroyed before.” He gave her a slight smile, then spun a lie she had no reason not to believe. “The library in Revat was a wondrous source of information, although I was not the first to discover the secrets within it. That honor goes to Kitaryia Falorn, though I have looked upon what research she left behind. Our shared enemies know how to destroy your greatest weapon, so I strongly suggest we destroy them first.”

Rufina’s eyes narrowed, the first reaction he’d managed to provoke.

“I’ve given the Mudamorians an ultimatum: hand over Kitaryia Falorn and Malahi Rowenes or die. Given the threat they are facing, I think they will leap at the opportunity.”

“They can leap all they want at it,” Rufina answered. “Killian Calorian will not stand idle while harm comes to his queen, and our mutual deserter Agrippa is remarkably good at causing trouble, especially where Malahi Rowenes is concerned.” Her head tilted. “I heard Agrippa paid you a visit today. What did he say?”

“A great deal about fighting for the side of good.” Marcus shrugged. “He’s always been easily swayed by women. Likes to play hero. I think when it comes down to it, he’ll show his true colors.”

“Yet instead of killing him, you killed one of your own.”