Page 69 of Scorched Earth

Quintus gave a smile that was all teeth. “Say pretty please.”

Gibzen lifted a fist, and Marcus caught his arm even as Teriana hauled Quintus to the side.

Their eyes locked, and the sudden compulsion to fall to his knees before her and beg forgiveness swept over him. To say whatever he needed to say to have her back.

You’re being watched. And you don’t deserve forgiveness.

He tore his eyes from hers and trudged down the boardwalks that kept the camp out of the mud until he reached the fortress, where he headed straight to his room. Dismissing Amarin, he left his armor and clothing in a pile on the floor, and then crawled onto his cot.

It was better this way.

Sleep,he screamed at himself.Just sleep.

Yet he couldn’t silence his mind, couldn’t stop the throbbing ache in his skull, and the desperation to escape it made his heart hammer and breath race until he could take it no more. Scrambling to his feet, he fell to his knees next to his pile of clothes, digging into his belt pouch until his fingers found glass.

One drop.

Two.

But when he tried to shake out a third, nothing came.

It doesn’t matter,he told himself.You don’t need it.

The pain in his skull receded but his mind remained restless, circling through every nightmare he faced until dawn lit the sky, and the first order he gave was to Gibzen.

“I need more.”

26TERIANA

Teriana had slept poorly, but as dawn rose, she had a plan. Astara and Kaira might not be willing to help her, but she had other allies. Holding the gold coin that Nic had given her above Quintus’s barely awake face, she said, “Let’s go into Aracam and spend this.”

His eyes focused on the gold. “It’s awfully early. But I suppose we don’t have anything better to do.”

He took her to one of the finer establishments in Aracam, which of course meant that it was full to the brim with off-duty legionnaires—in this case, Forty-First. “You sure this is wise?” she asked, surveying the tables full of men drinking and playing cards, barmaids and prostitutes moving among them.

“Better them than the Thirty-Seventh,” he said. “They’re still quite testy about you being the cause of Marcus’s disappearance, and they’ve taken to heart his decision to give you the cold shoulder. TheForty-First is mostly interested in lying low. Also, they are worse gamblers, which means we might come out ahead.”

Sighing, Teriana went to the bar and waited for the owner to notice her. The building was made of stone, as were all the structures in Aracam, the roof low enough that anyone much taller than her had to stoop. The walls were stained with soot from the poorly vented hearth in the corner, and Teriana didn’t fail to notice the pale rectangles on the wall that had obviously, until recently, born hangings. Likely depictions of the Six, removed at Titus’s behest. The owner finally took notice of her and approached.

The woman was tall, her silver hair shaved at the sides and back, the rest gathered in a long tail. “Two things,” she said in Arinoquian, placing the gold dragon on the bar. “The first is that drinks are on me until this is spent. The second is that I want to get a message to Ereni.”

Quintus made an aggrieved sound but otherwise held his tongue.

“The alliance is broken. Their commander”—the bar owner jerked her chin at the off-duty Forty-First—“broke it. The Cel showed their true colors. They don’t want alliances and trading partners; they want to possess everything on Reath.”

“I’m not asking to speak to her on behalf of the Cel,” Teriana said. “I want to speak to her on behalf of the Maarin.”

The woman shrugged. “I’ll let it be known, but Ereni answers to no one.” Then she lifted her voice and spoke in broken Cel, “Teriana of the Maarin is buying you all the drinks tonight.”

Heads turned in their direction, the legionnaires lifting their glasses and cheering her name.

Quintus led her to a table, the men making room for them, and she fell into the old rhythm of life with the legions. Laughing and drinking and gambling, but it felt as though she were outside of herself watching a performance, her mind all for other things. Even so, Teriana could see the changes in the Forty-First. They had an edge they hadn’t before, more scars and eyes that had seen too much and would see plenty more. She could tell that Titus’s death weighed upon them, and though she wanted to ask how they felt about Felix taking on the role of legatus, which was not how things were done, she kept her mouth shut.

Though it was only late morning, they grew rowdier with every passing hour, the doors flung open to allow in a breeze lest the smell of men grow overwhelming. She and Quintus both won more than they lost, amassing coin but keeping favor by buying food because their companions were testier than she remembered about losing,aggressive and accusatory, though the tension didn’t seem specific to her and Quintus.

They were in the middle of a game when Quintus abruptly rose. “I need to piss.” He leveled a finger at her. “You don’t leave this room.”

She nodded, but once he was out the front door, she folded. “I’m getting another drink.”