Page 184 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

TERIANA

She was on her knees.

Her ears were filled with a low drone, the world too bright and yet somehow the darkest it had ever been as she stared at Marcus’s still form.

Dead.

Marcus was dead.

Dead, but her eyes were dry, her tears spent. Every part of her spent, her core hollow. Empty. Like part of her had died along with him.

Breathe.

She sucked in a ragged breath, her nails scratching the flagstones her hands were pressed against.

Racker stepped up, pressing his fingers to Marcus’s throat. Then he nodded at Felix, who said, “We’re taking him, Senator. Servius, get him down.”

Tiberius grimaced. “Protocol demands that—”

“Fuck your protocol,” Felix snapped. “This happened because he ordered it to happen, but now I’m in command. And if you think you can force us to leave him for the carrion, you might consider whose legion fills the Forum.”

Tiberius opened his mouth, but then shook his head and walked away.

Teriana watched, frozen, as Servius sliced the ropes, Marcus’s body limp as they lifted him.

Neither Felix nor Servius looked at her as they carried him away, Racker following, and she did not watch them leave.

Didn’t move, even when she heard the centurions give orders to depart, and the Thirty-Seventh abandoned the Forum. Leaving her alone with the corpses.

Breathe.

Except how could she with him gone?

Live.

Teriana drew in another ragged breath, her eyes fixing on a glimmer of gold next to the cut length of noose. Slowly, she climbed to her feet and walked over, stooping to pick up the tiny replica of the Quincense . Blood glittered on the enamel sails from where the mast had cut his palm.

The gold was still warm.

A ragged sob tore from her lips, and Teriana doubled over, the hand gripping the tiny ship pressed to her stomach as she cried and cried until no more tears would come.

Rope creaked, and she turned her head to look up at Cassius’s dangling corpse. His eyes stared at her, taunting.

How does victory taste, my dear, she heard his voice whisper. Is it as sweet as you hoped?

“Shut up,” she whispered. “You lost. Evil lost.”

So did you. Look around, Teriana. You’re alone.

He wasn’t wrong.

“I am alone.” Teriana pressed her clenched fists to her ears, trying to drown out his laughter, then her eyes fixed on a pair of black riding boots approaching. Slowly, she looked up, her heart clenching as she looked into Lydia’s green eyes.

“You aren’t alone,” her friend said, dropping to her knees to pull Teriana into her arms. “We will always have each other. Always. But I am so sorry that I was not at your side for this.”

“How are you here at all?” She clung to Lydia’s neck, seeing Killian standing beyond, his glower all that was keeping back those who wished to gawk at the corpses.

“It’s a long story, but suffice it to say that I knew I needed to come.”

If she’d arrived an hour sooner, would it have mattered?

Would Lydia have had the influence to change the course of events?

Teriana’s eyes went to the dangling corpses, and her heart knew that nothing would have changed what happened here.

Not only because the newly minted republic cared no more for the opinions of others than the Empire had, but because Marcus would not have had it any other way. “I’m so glad you came.”

They clung to each other for a long time, then Lydia pulled her to her feet. “This place holds the worst of memories. I think it’s time to leave it behind.”

“Don’t you wish to see your father?”

Lydia smiled. “I already have. He understands that Mudamora is where I belong.”

They walked slowly from the Forum, arms linked, and Killian their silent shadow.

People moved in as soon as they were out of the way, hands full of rocks and worse to throw at the corpse of the man who’d terrorized them.

The civilians, citizens and peregrini alike, were in the streets celebrating, shouts of libertas filling the air, wine flowing.

Part of Teriana hated them for it. Hated that they’d lift their cups and toast the worst moment in her life.

But she also understood why they did.

This was a moment that would be recorded in every history book. Celendor finally shaking off the vestiges of autocracy to step forward into a form of rule that would speak for all people in the East, not just the Cel. And most certainly not just the patricians living on the Hill.

Whether it would be a brighter future, Teriana could not say, but at least it would be a future of their own making. For all she’d played a large part in this moment, Teriana quickened her stride, desperate to turn her back on this city forever.

They left Celendrial, walking in silence to the beach where the Quincense was moored.

It was all she could do not to run when she caught sight of its blue sails.

She squeezed the hair ornament, clinging to composure as they rowed the longboat out to the ship and climbed the ladder.

Though everyone should have been surprised at the sight of Killian and Lydia, no one said anything.

“Let’s get underway,” Teriana said quietly. “There’s no reason for us to remain.”

Her crew moved swiftly to follow her orders, the ship soon heading out to sea. Teriana stood silently watching the massive statue of the legionnaire that loomed over the harbor grow smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared into the horizon.

When she turned around, it was to find everyone watching her expectantly.

Teriana found that she couldn’t bear it.

For everyone, what they’d achieved was a victory.

Today was a victory because a tyrant had been brought to justice, but she was hollow.

“I need a minute.” Entering her quarters, she slammed the door shut behind her.

Resting her back against the wall, she slid down it to land on her ass, her eyes closed.

I miss you, she silently whispered. I miss you so much.

A breeze drifted over her face from one of the open windows, a breath of wind carrying the scent of the sea but also something else. Something that was imprinted upon her soul, and her eyes opened, gaze falling on the familiar figure outlined by the setting sun in their wake. “Marcus?”