Page 174 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

LYDIA

A cheer broke out among the civilians as Mudaire’s walls appeared in the distance.

Though one of the xenthier paths that Rufina had mapped had taken them most of the distance, the several thousand surviving Mudamorians with them were still without food and water, so the capital of Mudamora was a welcome sight to all.

The scouts that had gone ahead had reported back that there were signs the legions had only just come and gone, departing through the xenthier in the tunnels below the palace, which was good news.

Better news still was that they’d abandoned any of the supplies not easily brought into the tunnels, which included live cattle and casks of water.

“They left their horses as well,” the scout said as they drew closer. “We should try to round them up.”

Malahi reached down and pressed her hand against the ground, green grass sprouting beneath her palm and spreading until they were surrounded. “This should lure them in. Have some of the cattle slaughtered for meat and distribute the water.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Lydia cast a sideways glance at her friend. Malahi refused to answer to the title of queen until it was made official, though she embodied the role already. “It won’t look as you remember it. Mudaire has seen a lot of horror.”

“We’ll rebuild.” Malahi lifted her chin. “Our people are strong.”

Strong, but far fewer in number. Those who’d come back from the dead had known much of what had occurred in the south due to the link the blight had formed between their minds.

They’d told Lydia how Bercola and those with her had fallen, and how Astara had carried Dareena through the sky and dropped her among the masses of blighters trying to get through the xenthier.

It had been her aunt who’d destroyed the xenthier with explosives, but then she’d refused to fight back against the horde that remained.

Dareena Falorn had died as she had lived, fighting for the people she’d sworn to protect, and Lydia’s eyes welled at every thought of her, only the knowledge that Finn, Killian’s family, Astara, and Xadrian were alive and safe kept her from falling apart entirely.

Agrippa walked at Malahi’s elbow, her ever-present shadow, and he said to the scout, “Any signs of human life?”

“None, my lord.”

“My lord? Well haven’t you gone and gotten all fancy on us,” a voice with a Cel accent said, and they all whirled around to find a man walking out of a copse of trees. He was dressed in Mudamorian attire, but Lydia knew a legionnaire when she saw one.

“Quintus?” Agrippa blurted out, then his arms were around the other man, nearly taking him over backward. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m dead,” the legionnaire answered. “At least, according to the Thirty-Seventh’s ledger. Can’t take it back either, because Marcus signed it in ink before he departed for Celendor. Miki is registered as dead, as are you.”

“He’s here?”

“Back at our camp.” The legionnaire hesitated, then said, “I don’t know if Teriana told you, but he can’t walk.”

“She told me.” Agrippa’s gaze slid to Lydia. “Any chance I can call in a favor?”

“I don’t owe you any favors,” she answered, “but I’d be more than happy to have you in my debt.”

Agrippa rolled his eyes. “Fine. Fine.” He hesitated, then reached for Malahi’s hand, tugging her closer. “Though first, let me introduce you to my wife, Malahi. Love, this is Quintus, my best friend among the living.” His eyes flicked to Killian. “Hopefully that doesn’t hurt your feelings.”

“My feelings are intact,” Killian answered dryly.

Quintus inclined his head to Malahi. “It is an honor to meet you, my lady. I know your face from across the battlefield, but I am glad circumstances have changed so that I might meet you as a friend.”

“Well met, Quintus,” Malahi said, then she turned her gaze on Agrippa. “You go with Lydia to help your friend. Killian and I will see to getting the people settled.”

Quintus led them away from the long train of civilians, heading toward a copse of dead trees. “The city is unnerving,” he said. “A lot of unburied bodies and echoes of old violence. Sleeping on the ground was preferable.” Turning his head, he met Lydia’s gaze. “Is Teriana all right?”

“I don’t know.” She bit the insides of her cheeks. “The last I saw of her was when she set sail to organize the attack on the Empire, and while we know the Maarin were successful, I’ve not heard from her since.”

“Right.” He was quiet for several strides, then he said, “I was one of her bodyguards, but we became friends. I was with her through just about everything.” He again fell silent, the muscles in his jaw working back and forth.

“Someone needs to tell her that he did the right thing, in the end. Doesn’t undo the damage, but she should know. ”

“Marcus didn’t want me to tell her anything,” she answered. “I think he plans to tell her himself.”

“No.” Quintus exhaled. “That’s not his plan.”

After she’d aided Quintus’s friend, Lydia left the three of them to their reunion. But instead of heading into the city to find Malahi and Killian, she made her way down to the harbor, stopping on the stretch of beach where she’d had that fateful meeting with Bait.

Pulling off her worn boots, Lydia stepped out into the water, knife in hand. She drew it across the back of her arm, allowing blood to drip into the froth and foam. Not knowing if anyone would hear, Lydia cast a message for Teriana out into the sea.