Page 105 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)
Teriana slowly lifted the hand holding the letter, her teeth clenching as Cassius plucked it from her fingers.
“Hardly necessary given the traffic these stems have already seen, but I do love the theater of you delivering the document yourself.” He unfolded the paper, giving it a quick scan. “Makes it all so much more exciting.”
“You’re content, then?” she asked. Her emotions were running amok in her head, rendering her numb.
“Oh, I’m quite content,” Cassius said. “Tiberius, for formality’s sake, can you verify this is Grypus’s writing?”
He handed the page to the young senator with the dark hair, who glanced at the page.
“It is.” He handed the page to Senator Domitius, who nodded, and Teriana thought she might vomit as the page slowly circulated to every man in the room before returning to Cassius.
“Does anyone contest Grypus’s statement that Teriana of the Maarin has fulfilled her agreement with the Senate, and with Legatus Marcus of the Thirty-Seventh Legion? ”
She twitched at Marcus’s name, her hand pressing against the pocket that held the hair ornament he’d given her.
No one spoke, likely because now that Cassius was dictator, their opinion didn’t matter.
“Excellent!” Cassius clapped his hands together sharply. “Then we will see to liberating our guests. Valerius, I trust that you will arrange for Tesya of the Maarin to be returned to her ship?”
Lydia’s father gave a slight nod.
“Wonderful. If you’ll all excuse me, I would like to give this moment my personal attention.” Catching hold of Teriana’s elbow, Cassius escorted her out of the chamber but mercifully let go of her arm once they were out of sight.
They walked in silence through the Curia’s halls, Hostus’s men walking before and behind them, though the legatus himself was nowhere to be seen. That made Teriana uneasy because he wasn’t the sort to accept giving up prisoners.
“I confess, we expected to see you sooner,” Cassius said. “And via xenthier, not ship. Though the gossip courtesy of the Ninth and the Fifty-First is that you left the legions in rather a hurry after some form of altercation with Marcus. Is that true?”
“You know it is.” She swallowed hard. “Why didn’t you tell me it was him who did it?”
Cassius made a soft clucking noise of dismay.
“The truth came out, did it? It has a habit of doing so.” He was quiet as they exited the building, then said, “There is the obvious reason, I suppose. I knew you wouldn’t forgive the transgression, and I needed your love affair intact to serve as proper motivation.
It was truly a remarkable campaign that he conducted on your behalf—I’ve no doubt that young officers at Lescendor will be studying it a hundred years from now with the same enthusiasm they are now. ”
“And the less obvious reason?” Which she suspected was the real reason.
Cassius chuckled softly. “You are finally learning to play the game, Teriana. As a reward, I’ll tell you the truth.
Marcus is a dangerous man, and if I’d been the one to reveal his crime, he’d have blamed me.
All the grief and bitterness and rage that burned in his heart would have been directed at me.
Whereas by allowing the truth of his crimes to come to your ears as it did, he blames only himself. ”
“Clever.”
Marcus’s voice filled her head. If he hurts you, I will take this army back across the seas and burn him alive.
Cassius inclined his head.
Teriana wanted to know if Marcus had informed him about the xenthier stem under Celendrial that led to Mudaire.
Wanted to know if he’d told Cassius that Lydia was still alive.
But on the very faint hope that Marcus had withheld that information to protect himself from Cassius discovering his failure, Teriana wouldn’t be the one to inform him.
Instead, she asked, “Why did he send the Fifty-First back?”
“Depends on who you ask. We have Marcus’s letter.
Austornic’s verbal account. Reports from the Ninth.
And of course, other information from less…
official channels, which is always interesting for it brings to light that which the other sources chose to leave out.
The sum of all these pieces of information allows me to glean the whole of the truth, and it strikes me that Austornic was sent back to Celendrial because of his role in Marcus’s conflict with you .
” Cassius crossed his arms behind his back, the heat of the sun not seeming to touch him.
“But it’s just as well—we’ve already redeployed young Austornic, whose capacity for risk was much increased after being sent home with his tail between his legs.
There is always something of a rivalry between legion commanders.
A desire to outdo each other that serves as greater motivation than anything I, or the Senate, could possibly achieve. ”
Guilt pooled in Teriana’s stomach. “You gave him to Hostus, didn’t you. Nic wants to prove he can survive Hostus better than Marcus did.”
“Hardly. Hostus would spoil their enthusiasm.” Cassius gave her a small smile.
“I’m afraid I can’t say more about strategy, my dear.
You are soon to be joining our adversaries, and while I have nothing but the utmost confidence in Marcus’s ability to bring Gamdesh to heel, I don’t wish to make his campaign more difficult. ”
The weight of his comment threatened to drag Teriana to her knees, but she forced herself to keep walking.
“This isn’t the direction of the prison,” she said, taking note of their surroundings as they walked past an excavation that hadn’t been there the last time she was in Celendrial. “You said my people would be freed immediately. Why aren’t you taking me to them?”
“I am,” he answered. “They were removed from the prison the day after you left for Bardeen and have been kept in different accommodations since.”
It should have been welcome news, but Teriana’s skin crawled at the revelation. “Where? And why?”
“A property I own,” Cassius said. “As for why… Hostus is a vile creature, and often shortsighted.”
“So you moved them to protect them?” She snorted. “I struggle to believe that.”
“You were my leverage against Marcus, your people my leverage against you.” Cassius nodded at a group of Twenty-Ninth that saluted him as they passed. “But they were only leverage if they were alive, and Hostus’s nature put their longevity in danger.”
Again, the knowledge that her people had not been suffering under Hostus and his men should have been a relief, but every instinct in Teriana’s body screamed that she was missing something.
That, much like there had been an obvious reason and a real reason for withholding the truth of what Marcus had done to Lydia, the obvious reason Cassius had just given her for protecting the welfare of her people was not his actual motivation.
“Here we are,” Cassius said, gesturing to a large structure of the sort that held many small apartments rented by those who could not afford to own property. Older men in civilian garb but bearing gladiuses patrolled the perimeter, most certainly retired legionnaires Cassius had hired privately.
One of them unlocked the entrance, and Cassius said, “Go in, my dear. Tell your people they have been liberated. This is your moment, and I’ll not steal your thunder.”
Sucking in a steadying breath, Teriana stepped inside, fully expecting to be struck with the stink of decaying corpses because this was all a cruel trick.
Instead, she was greeted with the scent of gardenias from the enormous bouquet sitting on a table in the foyer.
Past the open doors was a large courtyard from which both the tinkling of a fountain and laughter emanated.
Teriana moved through the building, stepping out into the courtyard to find a gathering of her people, all hale, healthy, and well fed, each of them dressed in new clothes cut in Maarin style.
No one noticed her for a time, which allowed her to watch them. It seemed impossible that these were the same people who had stared out at her from behind bars in the prison, but they were.
“Teriana!” one woman gasped, recognizing her. “My gods, it’s you!”
Taking a halting step forward, Teriana cleared her throat.
“I have fulfilled my contract with the Senate. You are all free. Your ships are in the harbor, waiting for you to board, and then you may sail—” She broke off, having been about to say to safety , except that the West was no longer the sanctuary it had once been. “Wherever you wish to go.”
For a long moment, no one answered, then her cousin Elyanna’s husband asked, “The Empire now has land-based paths between East and West?”
“Yes.” She had to tear the word from her throat.
“Do you know their plans?”
Teriana coughed to clear her throat. “My understanding is that they are now at war with Gamdesh.”
Her people exchanged weighted glances, and Teriana bit the insides of her cheeks.
Not once had she envisioned this moment, for she’d refused to allow herself the indulgence of considering how they might react.
Even if she had, this wouldn’t have been what her mind would have come up with.
It wasn’t that she wanted cheers or accolades or even gratitude, but she’d been certain they’d at least be gods-damned happy to be free of the Cel.
“I suggest you move quickly,” she said. “Lest they change their mind.”
No one moved.
Anger boiled in her chest, and she snapped, “A high price has been paid for your freedom. Don’t squander it.”
“Where is it we should go?” Elyanna’s husband asked. “For it seems we have not been freed from Cel control, as they now rule all of Reath.”
“Not yet they don’t,” she retorted. “Get on your ships.”
Turning on her heels, she left the building to find Cassius waiting for her outside. “It’s so quiet,” he said. “I expected shouts of ‘liberty!’ Were they overwhelmed with the unexpected euphoria of their newfound freedom?”
She didn’t answer him, only sat on a curb, watching as her people trickled out of the building.
“Congratulations!” Cassius declared to each new group that emerged. “Liberty!”
None of them responded, only gave her glances containing a mix of emotions before starting their trek down to the harbor where the ships waited.
“That was anticlimactic,” Cassius said once they were gone. “I’d rather anticipated that they’d be cheering the name of their liberator.”
“No, you didn’t.”
He gave a soft laugh. “That’s true, I didn’t. But you did, didn’t you, Teriana?”
Not cheering, no, but…
“Gratitude would have validated your actions,” Cassius said. “Instead, you are left questioning whether you made the right choice. Perhaps even fighting the growing certainty that you have erred.”
“I hate you,” she whispered.
“Hate me? Why? Because I didn’t leave them to languish in Hostus’s care so that they would cry out your name as liberator when you delivered them from the dungeons? Is that what you would have preferred?” Cassius shook his head. “I had not believed you so vainglorious, Teriana.”
A tear trickled down her cheek.
“That is the nature of humanity, you know,” he said.
“When people are put into the worst circumstances, very few of them can think beyond their own suffering and their desire to escape it, no matter the consequences. Whereas when they are treated well and live without fear, they have the privilege of imagining themselves as strong enough to endure the worst to prevent those same consequences. Most are not, but we are all guilty of seeing ourselves as altruistic warriors who will suffer for the sake of being in the right.”
She wiped away the tear, but it was replaced by another.
“Every one of them owes you their lives. Yet right now, every one of them is blaming you for the burden you’ve rested on their shoulders.” Cassius smiled. “Congratulations on your freedom, Teriana. I hope you will use it well.”
Without another word, the Dictator of Celendor strolled down the street, disappearing around the corner.
Burying her face in her hands, Teriana wept.