Page 134 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)
TERIANA
“What do you mean, Helene is right?” Killian demanded. “You aren’t honestly suggesting we agree to this?”
Teriana internally cringed at the panic in his eyes, because she’d felt the same when Lydia had swiftly communicated her plan. This sort of self-sacrifice was exactly the sort of thing Lydia would do.
“What choice do we have?” Lydia walked toward the group, and Teriana followed her, keeping her expression grim.
“We can’t defeat the blight, and Rufina’s victory will cost every Mudamorian their life.
Whereas the Cel only require obeisance. For the cost of my freedom and Malahi’s mines, our people have a chance.
The Cel are civilized, whereas Rufina is not. ”
Killian opened his mouth, then closed it again, his eyes narrowing. Suspecting a ploy, because the Cel were anything but civilized. Teriana moved next to Seldrid and stepped on his toes; ever political, Seldrid showed no reaction, but Teriana knew he’d understood.
“You willingly accept this?” Helene demanded. “Or is this an act and you’ll flee the moment you have a chance?”
“It is no act.” Lydia’s expression was resigned. “This is the only way to save Mudamora.”
Helene dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Your sacrifice will never be forgotten. Though in truth, you’ll be able to leave this horror for the soft life of Celendor, so I do not think you’ll look back.”
“It is the right thing to do,” Lydia replied, her jaw set and eyes resolute. “Seldrid, would you please take Helene to a quiet place and aid in drafting a response to the Cel legatus? We should not risk the opportunity with unnecessary delay.”
“Of course,” Seldrid murmured. “It would be my honor to aid in the drafting of this important letter, although I believe we should send for the other High Lords first.”
Silence reigned after Seldrid led Helene from the room, and Teriana took in all who were present. Bercola and two members of Eoten Isle’s council. Xadrian and Adra. Agrippa and Malahi. Lydia and Killian.
“I take it you have a plan,” Killian said. “Because while I would not put it past you to risk yourself, Lydia, I know Teriana wouldn’t agree to such a scheme.”
Teriana shot him a smirk, but Lydia only said, “Adra, will you ensure this room is secure. We cannot afford listeners.”
Adra gave Lydia a knowing smile, then strode with purpose to the doors.
Picking up Marcus’s letter, Lydia tapped the edge of it against her palm.
“Teriana cannot cut off the Cel supply lines in a day. She needs time. The giants”—she gestured to them—“can delay the Cel in setting sail, but the toll is high. So what we need is another tactic to delay them long enough that Teriana can enact her plan, because I cannot believe that the legions will undertake an aggressive campaign into an already starving country without the supplies sent to them by Celendor. Helene, in her quest for relevance, has provided us an avenue of delay. Negotiation. ”
Malahi smiled. “You aim to set her to the task of negotiating an agreement with the Cel, because if they believe they can get what they want without invading, they’d be fools not to do so.”
Lydia gave a slight nod, relieved her friend so easily grasped her intention.
“It was only a matter of time until they learned that Kitaryia and Lydia are one and the same, and Marcus would never believe I’d negotiate with him.
But Helene is another matter. It makes sense that she’d give me up.
Makes sense that she’d give Malahi’s gold up.
Makes sense that she’d be ignorant as to exactly how much power the Empire will give her.
” She tapped the letter against her palm again.
“We allow Helene to carry on as queen while we enact our own strategies behind her back, none more critical than Teriana’s. ”
All eyes went to Teriana, and she gave a tight nod. “Gather all the Maarin from every ship in the harbor. I’ll meet with my people tonight.”
Eight Maarin ships were already in Serlania’s harbor, and within the hour, the majority of their crews were crammed into a music hall that Seldrid owned.
All of them answering the call of Triumvir Tesya, none yet aware that her mother was dead.
If Teriana had called them herself, she suspected not a single soul would have shown up.
“I can’t come with you,” Lydia had said before she left. “Both Marcus and Rufina will have spies in Serlania, and if we are to make him believe Helene intends to negotiate in earnest, we must play our parts and I must remain confined. But Killian will arrange for soldiers to—”
“No soldiers. I’m not worried about my people hurting me,” Teriana had answered. “I’m worried that they’ll all turn their backs for all that I’ve done and that Reath will pay the price.”
Which perhaps made her a fool given that there was an order she be executed for treason, but it was hard to fear for her life when Lydia and Killian would be baiting Marcus with their own.
“Finn is working the crowd with Killian’s dog,” Bait said softly. “He says he will recognize many of the blighters, and dogs seem to have some sense that they are not right. But thus far, it seems everyone here is among the living.”
“Long may that last.” Drawing a deep breath, Teriana stepped out onto the stage. Scowls and angry glares greeted her, but she kept her face steady as she walked to the center and surveyed the crews before her. “Thank you all for gathering.”
“Where is Tesya?” Triumvir Vane demanded. “We aren’t interested in what you have to say, Teriana. Only interested in how your mother is going to remedy your multitude of errors.”
Teriana’s chest tightened. “My mother is dead. Murdered in Celendrial by Legatus Hostus.”
Gasps tore from the lips of everyone in the room, because her mother had been beloved. Yet on the heels of her words, Sultan Kalin of Gamdesh entered the room, Astara at his side.
Teriana’s stomach dropped. She had known him all her life, but the bitter and angry expression on the Sultan’s face made him seem a stranger. Astara appeared as she always did—ready to tear Teriana’s heart out the moment she had the chance.
She deserved their hatred. Deserved their ire. But it was her people she’d gathered here, so it was her people Teriana focused on. A sea of Maarin faces, eyes all filled with tempestuous seas. Swallowing hard, she wiped her sweaty palms on her trousers.
“I won’t waste words.” Her voice was strong and clear, belying the tremor in her knees.
“You all know who I am. You all know where I’ve been and what I’ve done, and the majority of you have condemned me for it.
I can’t blame you for that, because in truth, I blame myself for much of what has happened.
” Teriana’s throat tightened, and she coughed to clear it.
“But I also know that even if I’d done everything differently, we would still have found ourselves here, one way or another.
Our mantra was that East must not meet West, but in truth, they’ve never been separated.
Reath is one world, and I see now that believing its halves could be kept apart with secrets and half truths was either a delusion or a dream destined to fail.
And in refusing to acknowledge that truth, we were ill prepared when the halves collided. ”
Her people shifted restlessly, but no one spoke against her.
“When the Cel captured our ships and put our people to question, I believed that it was my doing. Believed that Lucius Cassius had learned about the West because I’d revealed our secret to Lydia.
But he already knew the West existed, as did many others, because it was no gods-damned secret !
” Teriana shouted the last words, anger about the lies she’d been fed all her life bubbling up in her chest.
“I believed that my people were imprisoned and dying because of me, and when Madoria silenced every voice but mine, I chose to use my voice in an attempt to save those I believed I’d condemned.”
Many of the elders among the crew looked to the ground, and Teriana clenched her fist at the confirmation that many of them had known the reality. But this was no time for casting blame.
“Magnius told me that Madoria had chosen me to defeat the Empire, and gods have I struggled with the weight of that task. Not only in how I might accomplish such a feat, but in understanding what defeat really meant. Yet through every step of that journey, what burned in my heart and drove me forward was a need to save those I believed I’d harmed.
It was the great villain Lucius Cassius who made me finally see the selfishness of my motivations.
Who made me see that so much of what I chose to do was driven by my own need to remedy my mistakes. To atone for the choices I’d made.”
Several heads nodded, and her anger flared brighter.
“But my motivations being selfish does not mean my actions were wrong. What is wrong is to condemn five hundred souls to execution because the risk required to save them is a greater bet than you care to wager. For to do so isn’t just selfishness, it’s cowardice.
And the greatest form of foolishness, because sacrificing them would have changed nothing.
The Empire would only have found another way, and every one of us would have had to live with the question of whether delaying the Empire by a day, a month, a year, was worth sacrificing our consciences. ”
Silence stretched, and that silence weighed on Teriana’s shoulders, dragging her down and down. She knew it was her methods, not her motivations, that pitted them against her.
“I think it is easier to look at the Empire as a faceless evil,” Teriana finally said in a voice quiet enough that her people leaned forward to hear.
“Easier to paint every one of the Empire’s people as a villain deserving universal condemnation for what their nation has done.
Easier to refuse to see the individuals that make up the whole, because that would grant them humanity, which many believe is a gift they do not deserve.
And perhaps that is so. Perhaps they all deserve our hatred.
“Except I question the reasons we refuse to look at the individuals who make up the whole. Is it because we fear that in understanding why they do the things they do, we risk absolving them? Or is it because the why isn’t always cruelty, greed, or ignorance?
Is it because the why is often fear, loyalty, and even love?
I think maybe we refuse to see them as individuals because in knowing that such familiar motivations drive our enemy’s actions, we might be forced to look at our own choices in a different light. And that terrifies us.”
Lifting her chin, Teriana stared out over the crowd.
“I rolled the dice to save our people, using the legions to achieve what Cassius wanted. In the beginning, I told myself that my bet was on the West’s ability to drive them back once our people were freed, but in the end, I was betting on the individual men within those legions.
Betting on one in particular, because I believed he was more ally than enemy.
” Teriana’s bottom lip quivered, and she bit down on it hard.
“I bet wrong, and I will bear the weight of my choices for the rest of my days and accept the punishment you feel is fitting. But before you make that decision, I wish to put before you another bet with a higher wager than before.”
She waited a breath, then said, “I want you to bet your lives on the Maarin’s ability to strike a blow at the Empire herself. I want you to bet your lives on the willingness of other nations to rise up with us. I want you to bet your lives that we have the ability to defeat the undefeatable.”
Silence stretched, then Vane said, “What do you propose?”
Teriana explained her plan, which was beautifully simple. Excruciatingly complex. A plan that only she could orchestrate. And when she was finished, Teriana met the eyes of her people and asked, “Will you roll the dice with me?”
No one spoke, then her cousin Elyanna stepped forward. “I will roll the dice!” She gave her husband a shove, and he gave a tight nod. “I like a good wager.”
More and more voices filled the air. Her people balled their fists, their need for vengeance turning their eyes into violent storms. Their need for justice. But above all, the need to reclaim their honor and pride, for it had been brought low.
Then the Sultan stepped forward, shoulders back and head high, and all fell silent.
His brown eyes locked on hers, and Teriana knew he would never forgive her.
But neither would he allow his anger to own him.
With the voice of the warrior he’d once been, Sultan Kalin roared, “Gamdesh will roll the dice!”