Page 160 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

MARCUS

“Scouts are signaling that Rufina’s army is on the march,” Felix said. “Everyone is in position.”

And everyone, save Felix and Servius, believed that the alliance with Rufina was real. There had been no way around it given how much Rufina had seemed to know about the inner workings of his camp. Which meant everything, everything, depended on the legions hearing and obeying his commands.

Commands that he couldn’t give until the final seconds because the moment Rufina sensed his ruse, she’d fall back to protect the xenthier stem.

The first part of the plan was simple. He’d merely refused to commit to an attack unless Rufina attacked at the same time. Her urgent desire to see Lydia dead, in combination with her certainty that he wanted the same, proved worth the risk of moving her army away from the xenthier.

The second part of the plan was anything but simple.

This is what your men are trained for, Marcus reminded himself. This is what makes Celendor’s legions the best fighting force on Reath.

Reminders that did nothing to ease the frantic gallop of his heart as he mounted his mare and rode to look out over the field.

There was no mistaking Calorian standing on the ridgeline, weapons gleaming in the sun, and as Marcus watched, a massive hawk landed and shifted into human form.

Even from a distance, he recognized Astara, and Marcus didn’t push away the guilt he felt over what he’d ordered done to her.

Calorian had tasked her with watching Rufina, which meant this would be the confirmation that the xenthier was as unguarded as Rufina would ever dare leave it.

Come on! he silently screamed, hating his lack of control in this moment.

Then Agrippa withdrew a green scarf and tied it to his right arm.

It was time.

Marcus cleared his throat to tell his men to proceed, but before he could give the order, he spotted a scout galloping toward him.

Sliding to a stop, the legionnaire said, “Sir, the Fifty-First are here. They’re marching this way.”

No.

Shock rippled through the Thirty-Seventh as the report spread, because the last they’d all seen of the young legion was them disappearing back to Celendor via the stem in Gamdesh.

Only Marcus, Felix, and Servius knew the true fate of the Fifty-First. Only they knew that Cassius had sent Austornic and his men into a blight-ravaged land where they had succumbed to the poison.

Only they knew that the Fifty-First had risen from death as puppets of the Seventh god and joined Rufina’s forces.

Yet the secret of their presence in Mudamora was a secret no longer, for as Marcus lifted a spyglass to his eye, it revealed their neat ranks marching toward him. Revealed Austornic’s familiar form near the head of the line, the boy heading directly toward him.

Marcus knew exactly why Rufina had sent the Fifty-First to him. The Queen of Derin did not wholly trust his intentions, so she’d sent in spies to ensure he stuck to the plan.

Felix reined his horse so close to Marcus’s that their knees banged together. “What do you want to do?”

If he reacted the wrong way, Rufina would know that Marcus was aware the Fifty-First were blighters.

And if she knew that, she’d suspect everything.

Marcus watched his plan fall apart in his mind’s eye, along with any hope that Lydia might, in saving her own people, save the Fifty-First as well.

“Don’t look concerned,” he said under his breath.

“Act as though we are shocked yet delighted to have them rejoin us.”

“Right,” Felix muttered. “Reinforcements.”

The ranks parted to allow Nic and his bodyguard through. At first glance, they appeared themselves. Whole and unharmed. But as they passed, he saw frowns rise on the faces of the Thirty-Seventh.

And that was when the smell hit him.

Vomit and excrement. Marcus’s eyes picked out the stains on their clothes. On their skin. Signs of how they’d perished, succumbing to blight poisoning, dying in agony only to rise again as Rufina’s puppets with no bother given to cleaning up their corpses.

Did she think he wouldn’t notice the wrongness in them? Had she gotten lazy? Or did Rufina want him to know they were dead?

Nic stopped before him. “It’s good to see you, sir. Cassius sent us through to a terminus in Mudaire, and we’ve marched hard to reach you.”

“Impeccable timing.” Only a lifetime of practice kept the shake from Marcus’s voice. Dismounting, he approached Nic, and though he knew it wasn’t the boy who’d shadowed him for months behind those familiar eyes, he said, “I’m sorry I sent you back. It was a mistake.”

Nic ducked his head, color rising to his cheeks, the action so painfully well mimicked that it was all Marcus could do to keep his emotions in check.

Gods damn you! he silently screamed at Rufina. They didn’t deserve this.

And it was his fault.

In his rage, he’d sent Nic and the Fifty-First right back into Cassius’s hands, and he knew that the Dictator had sent them through that stem into the blight fully expecting them to die.

“It’s fine, sir,” Nic answered. “I shouldn’t have questioned you.”

Marcus needed to be the heartless commander that Rufina ex pected because she was able to see through Nic’s eyes. Able to hear through his ears.

Yet he also remembered what Lydia had told him. That while Nic was not in control of his body, he could see. Could hear.

Could feel.

It made Marcus want to fall to his knees and beg the boy’s forgiveness. To tell Nic that sending him away had been one of the greatest mistakes of his life.

Instead, he said, “No time for questions now. We’ve allied with the Queen of Derin, and her army is on the march. Within the hour, I want the Mudamorian army and their allies either dead or offering surrender.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ignoring the stink and the crushing ache in his chest, Marcus slung an arm around Nic’s shoulders and led him forward. “This is the plan.”