Page 81 of Scorched Earth

“What did she want kept from me?”

“Her wanting to talk to Miki and Quintus alone, sir. I though it risky, given that Quintus wasn’t in the finest mood. Turned out to be nothing, but rubbed me wrong.”

Nothing, indeed, and Marcus scanned the list again, but no one leapt out at him as having acted strangely. Which made it yet another dead end. “Keep digging.”

“Yes, sir.” Gibzen departed, and Marcus swore the cold left with him, the air returning to the usually muggy heat of Arinoquia.

Only for Austornic to appear.

The boy came around the table, then handed Marcus a crumpled letter with a familiar wax seal. “Fell from the sky.”

Marcus’s heart broke into a gallop, his pulse a dull roar in his ears as he examined the seal.

She’ll agree.

She has to agree.

She won’t abandon Teriana’s people.

Cracking the wax, he fought to keep his fingers from shaking as he slowly opened the letter.

You, and the Empire, can kiss my ass.

Kaira

Marcus stared at the writing, reading it over and over, searching for a message within the message that contained a different answer than this.

But there was nothing.

His head throbbed so painfully he could barely think, and Marcusdropped the page to press fingers to his temples, the room suddenly too bright.

Vaguely, he saw Austornic pick it up, though he didn’t read Gamdeshian.

“I take it diplomacy has failed,” the boy said. “Now we have to go to war against an enemy who knows our precise target and intentions. So what is our new plan?”

“I don’t know,” Marcus muttered, even though he very muchdidknow.

Once Atrio confirmed the stem in Emrant, Marcus would take it by force. Hundreds, if not thousands, would die, with more succumbing in the trail of starvation and disease that war left in its wake. He would win, because he always did, but the cost…

Marcus rested his head in his hands.

“We need a plan.” Austornic slammed the page down on the table. “We’ve spent time and resources we didn’t have on this.”

Anger rose in his chest that thischilddared to criticize him. A boy whose knowledge of war was limited to books and practice blades and drills. “Do you think I’m not aware?”

“Then why did you bother? Because don’t tell me that you truly believed the Gamdeshians would agree to this.”

“Maybe”—Marcus slammed his palms against the table—“because instead of sending me a legion of men, Cassius sent meyou.I need men who can fight; instead I have children that I need to feed and clothe and mind like a gods-damned nursemaid. Go find a ball to occupy you and your playmates, boy, and leave the matters of war to those old enough to understand the consequences.”

Silence hung heavy in the room.

“I’m not sure a day went by at Lescendor that I didn’t hear your name.” Nic’s voice was cold. “The prodigy held up as the golden standard that every one of us was desperate to achieve. Everyone idolized you. Everyone wanted tobeyou. I came here believing I’d be following a commander who held to the highest standards of conduct only to discover you are no better than Hostus and the rest, holding everyone to the rules except yourself. So drunk on your own power that you think you can do whatever you want and damn the consequences to everyone else.”

“And?” Marcus’s voice dripped venom, and he hated himself for it. Hated how the idealistic boy he’d once been had turned into the villain he now was.

“And you’re a fucking disappointment,” Nic answered. In a swirlof crimson cloak, he departed the room, the doors shutting with a loud thud.

Shoving aside his chair, Marcus went to the sideboard and extracted a bottle of wine, tearing the wax seal from the top and downing several gulps. His eyes fell on the circle of wax affixed to the side, which bore the symbol of a galloping horse. Vintage from House Calorian in Mudamora. Killian Calorian’s family estates, but though he was curious about the man, Marcus could not waste time thinking about commanders on other continents. He returned to his chair, drinking from the bottle as he stared at Kaira’s letter.