Page 104 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

TERIANA

Gespurn himself must have put the wind in their sails, for they reached the greater ocean path in a fraction of the time it would normally have taken. Magnius opened the whirlpool to the xenthier without having to be asked, seeming to be infected by the urgency consuming every member of her crew.

Teriana included.

The Quincense sailed around the familiar rocky peninsula, and the gleaming white sprawl of Celendrial revealed itself.

The ship lowered its sails as they moved into the harbor, which was flanked on one side by the towering statue of a legionnaire holding a standard bearing the gleaming gold dragon and the other by the villa-encrusted hill where her enemy lurked.

The water was murky as always, the river Savio dumping the waste of a million people into the sea, filling the air with the stink of humanity.

“I still dislike this plan,” her aunt muttered from where she stood at the helm. “We’d be better off rowing to shore at night. Sneaking into the city and finding Valerius. It’s always better to test the waters before you jump in.”

“I know these waters,” Teriana replied. “I need the citizens of Celendrial to know I’m here. It is the people with the right to vote who will hold Cassius to his word, so I can’t risk any strategy that will allow him to keep the truth from them.”

Though her voice was confident, Teriana’s heart raced with fear as they drifted closer, the eyes of every sailor on every ship watching them.

In the distance, she could make out the magister waving his arms, shouting at one of the ships to depart to make room for the Quincense, but it was the flashes of crimson and steel beyond that made her palms sweat.

Legionnaires, and unless something had changed, they’d be Hostus’s men.

“Still time to change your mind,” Yedda said, and Teriana didn’t fail to notice the beads of sweat on her aunt’s brow, nor the way she bit nervously at her bottom lip. “Polin and a few of the others who are handy with a blade will go with you.”

“No,” Teriana said. “I’ll go alone. If they want to hurt me, a handful of fighters isn’t going to stop them.”

A berth cleared for them, and Yedda guided the ship against the towering pier, the magistrate’s men catching the lines her crew tossed out to them.

As soon as the Quincense stilled, Teriana jumped onto the pier.

“Thanks for making space,” she said to the magistrate.

“I have business with the Consul and Senate.”

The man glanced uneasily over his shoulder, then said in passable Trader’s Tongue, “Word was sent the moment your ship was spotted on the horizon. We’ve been expecting your arrival.”

It made sense that someone, Marcus or Felix, had sent word through the xenthier that she was coming by way of ship, but his words still turned Teriana’s hands to ice. Especially as a familiar figure sauntered down the pier toward her, sailors shoving each other to get out of his path.

“Teriana.” Hostus pulled off his helmet to reveal a white-toothed grin. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Hostus.” She did her best to keep her terror hidden, though judging from the gleam in the legatus’s eye, she’d failed.

“I’m sure you’ve been informed, but I’ve delivered on my half of the bargain with the Senate, and Proconsul Grypus signed an order authorizing the release of those of my people being held hostage. ”

“I had heard that.” Hostus rocked on his heels.

“Such tragic news that our dear proconsul met his end moments after signing that order. Choked on his own olives, which were found still wedged deep in his throat when his body was returned to us. Not just one olive, but three! His gluttony for the finer things finally got the better of him.”

“So I heard,” Teriana replied. “I wasn’t there to witness it.”

“Shame.” Hostus sighed. “I’d have enjoyed a witness account.” His eyes flicked past her to where her crew stood watching. “How does freedom feel? Does it taste as sweet as you anticipated or does the price it cost the West sour the flavor?”

No one answered, and he shrugged one armored shoulder. “Magistrate, see that the Maarin vessels are readied and waiting for the hostages’ arrival. We’ll be releasing them after Teriana meets with the Senate, and I doubt they’ll care to linger.”

“Yes, Legatus,” the magistrate said, giving Teriana a look she couldn’t parse before hurrying off to carry out the order.

“Let’s walk, shall we?”

Hostus led her down the pier, a dozen of his men forming up around them.

Teriana had spent many long hours in this market, and while the civilians had always given the legionnaires who patrolled them the respect of space, it was nothing like how they reacted to Hostus’s presence.

Whispers of his name raced ahead of them, merchants moving into their shops, the click of locking doors like ominous music.

Those without doors hurried into alleys and side streets, parents hauling children bodily by the arm to give the group wide berth.

“You’re popular,” she muttered, and Hostus laughed.

“I’ve had to put my foot down on certain behavior. The fools mistakenly believed that their opinions were relevant and needed to be schooled on their true value to the Empire.”

Sickness pooled in Teriana’s stomach. All her certainty had been predicated on the strength of Celendrial’s civilian population and the power they held over their government. She’d not thought anyone had the power to quell the voice of the people, but it seemed she’d underestimated Hostus.

As they moved out of the market and into the city itself, the behavior was the same, but worse, for there were signs of violence everywhere.

Bloodstains on the streets, smashed storefronts, and twice, still forms sprawled in alleys.

There were legion patrols everywhere, and Teriana was struck by how different the energy was between these legionnaires and those she was used to.

The Twenty-Ninth were mean , as though Hostus’s cruelty had infected all of them, and there was no missing the delight they took in bullying the populace.

It made her sick, but more than that, Teriana didn’t understand why Cassius would support the Twenty-Ninth’s behavior.

Even if he pulled the same trick as before and had the Twenty-Ninth vote for him, he still needed some Cel citizens to vote for him in order to remain consul.

Typically those running for election put extreme effort and a large amount of gold into currying favor with the populace. This was exactly the opposite.

The political buildings loomed ahead. With no hesitation, Hostus led her into the Curia.

The hallways, with their towering ceilings, were cool after the heat of the sun.

She remembered the last time she’d been here, how she’d been relegated to sitting outside while Marcus addressed the Senate.

This time, the doors swung open for her, and her ears filled with the chatter of the hundreds of men inside.

She clutched Grypus’s letter tightly, her palms growing clammy as the most powerful men in the East all ceased their discussions, eyes fixing on her.

Teriana was struck by how similar they all looked, dressed in the same white tunics and togas, all with golden Cel skin, the vast majority of them possessed of light eyes and hair.

Only a handful showed any sign that they had anything but patrician blood a dozen generations back.

One such was an attractive man in his midtwenties with dark brown hair and skin just a shade darker than those around him.

He rested an elbow on the railing before him, hazel eyes watching her with both interest and intelligence.

Marcus’s father and Lydia’s father sat to either side of him, the latter giving her a tight smile.

She was looking forward to telling Valerius that Lydia was still alive.

“Teriana, you are a sight for sore eyes!”

Cassius’s voice snapped her attention to the center of the room, where the consul was rising from what could only be described as a throne. He trotted down the stairs with surprising agility, gripping her shoulders and kissing both her cheeks.

Struggling not to cringe, she said, “Consul.”

He gave a tight smile. “It’s Dictator now, I’m afraid. A necessity given we are at war and in need of stability.”

Oh gods.

That was why he cared more about controlling the population than winning their favor for an election. There wouldn’t be an election.

“War?” she managed to croak out.

“Unfortunately. The Gamdeshians are refusing to play nice, and the legatus requested more men.” He lifted a page filled with Marcus’s neat writing and waved it in the air. “Six legions, to be precise.”

Thirty thousand men.

What had happened in the short period since she’d left Emrant in her wake that necessitated thirty thousand more men? Had Kaira attacked? Had the forces of the Southern Continent united to push out the invaders?

“It was fortunate that we’d already preemptively recalled a significant number of men to have at the ready, so they were able to deploy within hours of us receiving his request,” Cassius said.

“We thought it prudent to send our finest to ensure Marcus has all the resources he needs. Hard, experienced legions given he wasn’t satisfied with your choice of the Fifty-First and sent them home.

It seems he had some conflict with the Fifty-First’s legatus, although that has only been fuel to the fires of young Austornic’s ambition.

He is keen to prove himself in other ways. ”

Oh gods.

“But never mind that,” Cassius said. “You achieved what many thought impossible, my dear girl! Two impeccable pathways. If you were a path-hunter, you’d now be as wealthy as some of the men in this room, but gold was never your motivation.

Let’s make it formal, then? You have a document certifying the paths signed by the late Plotius Grypus? ”