Page 45 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

TERIANA

Teriana collected the crate from Pullo after she’d met Elyanna on the beach, but the sight of the contents had only filled her with red-hot fury, and she’d shoved it into the corner of Quintus’s tent.

“We can sell this stuff,” he’d suggested, rooting through it. “It’s worth a fortune.”

“That would only invite questions as to why I have it,” she’d retorted, knowing in her heart that the real reason was because with every passing day that the legions did nothing but train while Marcus avoided her at every turn, that she might grow desperate enough to use it.

“Has he said anything more?” she’d asked Nic when she’d managed to get him alone near the latrines.

“No.” The glare on the boy’s face had been something to behold. “All he gives the men is busy work. All he gives the officers is admonitions of patience. If he has other schemes, I don’t know of them.”

It was desperation that had driven her to write a message to Killian explaining the situation, begging for whatever aid he might be able to give her.

It had cost her a golden hair bead to get it past Servius to a merchant ship heading north, and in truth, with the mutters of dire circumstances in Mudamora, even her old friend likely wouldn’t be able to help her imprisoned people.

And every day that passed was one day closer to Cassius’s deadline. One day closer to a hundred of her people being executed because she’d failed in her promise to them.

She had only one avenue left.

One.

Which was why she was staring at the crate in the corner when Quintus pulled aside the tent flap and crawled inside.

“Two updates. First is that a letter from the Empire came by way of the Bardeen stem. Second is that the giant hawk just dropped a sealed letter in the middle of camp,” Quintus said. “Nic’s bringing it to Marcus, so we may have answers soon enough.”

Teriana didn’t allow herself to pray for deliverance at Kaira’s hands, because there was no chance that the princess would concede so much.

Kaira would not help her.

Ereni would not help her.

Her own people would not help her.

Which meant the only allies she had left were the army surrounding her and the man who commanded it.

Stepping out of the tent, Teriana watched the fortress.

She didn’t have to wait long. Nic shoved open the flap of her tent, skinny form quivering with anger.

“The Gamdeshians declined to concede the city to us,” he said as he reached her.

“I can’t begin to imagine what madness drove Marcus to even try, but he can no longer hide behind that travesty of a plan. ”

“Did he say anything about next steps?”

“He said he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.” Nic’s hands were fisted, every part of him seething frustration. “Then he told me to go find a ball and some playmates. I fucking hate him. Everything they ever said about him is a lie.”

“I’ll do it.” The words jerked out of Teriana’s mouth, surprising her as much as they surprised Nic, whose mouth dropped open.

He quickly recovered. “I can get you past the guards at the entrance, but you’ll be on your own after that.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“Gibzen is off duty.” Quintus ducked back into the tent.

“Just saw him heading into Aracam with a few of his men. Which isn’t to say those standing guard now are going to let you by, but the chances are better.

” He looked her up and down. “On second thought, the odds might be fairly good. You clean up nicely, my friend.”

“This isn’t going to work.”

“If it doesn’t work, then we’ll know for certain that Marcus’s brain has gone to mush.”

Before she could lose what limited confidence she had, Teriana ducked out of the tent and started toward the fortress.

The silk of her skirts tangled around her legs, and her feet ached in the high heels on the delicate shoes, but she strode past gaping men as though this were how she dressed all the time.

Nic fell in alongside of her. “I cannot believe that I’ve spent half my life learning military strategy and this ”—he gave her a look—“is my first move.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do.”

“Hopefully it works.” He frowned. “It wouldn’t work on me.”

Teriana was too nervous to be insulted. Her hands curled into fists, nails digging into her palms, because this felt wrong.

Marcus trusted her, and she was exploiting that.

Yet she also knew that she’d stepped into the arena with the most powerful individuals alive, and the stakes were high.

She couldn’t afford to hang her hat on morals when everyone else in the game seemed devoid of them.

Teriana swallowed hard as she drew closer to the doors, the guards to either side straightening. But Nic’s presence at her side seemed to quell any questions they had, and they swung open the double doors, allowing them to enter.

Once inside, Nic said, “Good luck,” then turned left down a side corridor, leaving her alone.

Teriana didn’t answer, only focused on keeping the narrow heels beneath her feet steady on the tile as she walked down the hallway, the click, click deafening.

Ahead, the doors to the command room were shut, two of the Thirty-Seventh out front.

Their eyebrows rose at the sight of her, and one said, “What’s with the dress? ”

“Apparently the Senate included gifts for me in the Fifty-First’s supplies. Unless you think this outfit was meant for you?”

Both guards laughed, shaking their heads.

“Is he in there?”

“Yes,” one answered, “but…” He exchanged a weighted look with the other guard, who shrugged.

“Did he give orders not to be disturbed?”

“No, but…”

“Then let me through.” Pushing between them, Teriana shoved at the door. It swung open more easily than she’d anticipated, and she lunged to catch the edge to keep it from slamming into the wall, nearly falling as her heel bent sideways.

Flustered, she carefully closed the door, and then took a deep breath and turned around.

Marcus sat at the far end of the table, head resting in his hands, a bottle sitting next to him. “What do you want?” His voice was low and rough.

Teriana’s pulse roared, sweat dampening her palms. “Do you want me to leave?”

He jerked upright, eyes widening at the sight of her. “Teriana. I… Apologies, I thought you were—”

“I pushed past the guards at the door, so don’t take my presence out on them.”

He didn’t answer, only watched as she walked down the length of the table toward him.

His eyes were red-rimmed, the grey-blue hazed with far, far too much wine, but there was no denying the want in them.

The heat in his gaze sent a thrill dancing over her skin and made her realize that part of her feared that Marcus no longer wanted her.

Feared that he’d committed to the end of their relationship so thoroughly that he’d erased all sentiment for her from his soul.

“The Senate sent me gifts.” She lifted the wrist that bore a heavy gold bracelet. “A touch impractical.”

His head tilted, eyes roving over her with a strange mixture of longing and loathing. “Clothing is a method of assimilating the conquered,” he said softly. “Are you conquered, Teriana?”

“No.” She pulled off the bracelet and dropped it on the table. “I’m not.”

“Then why are you wearing it?”

“To be polite to Nic, as he delivered it.”

Marcus’s eyes narrowed, the wheels of his mind turning, albeit slower than usual. Or so she hoped.

“What did he want in exchange?”

Apparently not that much slower. Teriana’s confidence wavered, because as she’d anticipated, wine and lust were not enough to turn Marcus into a fool.

He knew her well enough to see through any lies she might spin, no matter how well crafted.

Which meant she was better off deploying the truth.

“He’s worried that, in trying to escape Hostus, he’s dragged the Fifty-First into something worse.

Since you won’t tell him otherwise, he asked me to discover your intentions. ”

“Why would you agree to be used in such a fashion?”

“Because I’m also interested in your intentions.”

She’d reached the end of the table, the silk of her skirts brushing the legs of the heavy chair he sat upon. Marcus was no longer watching her, his attention instead fixed on a box on the table before him, but she didn’t miss the way his fingers flexed on the arms of the chair.

“You could have asked.” He coughed to clear his throat. “No need to dress up like a senator’s mistress.”

Anger rose in her chest. “Really, Marcus? Because you made it quite clear that I was not to come near you and was to stay out of your plans. You were a right prick about it, if we are being honest.”

“By all means,” he muttered, words slightly slurred. “Let’s be honest. That is bound to go well.”

She huffed out a breath at his sarcasm. “At least have the decency to look at me while I’m speaking to you.”

Marcus didn’t move. Didn’t so much as twitch.

Teriana’s anger burned hot. Gods-damn him for acting like this—like a petulant toddler.

She kicked violently at the back leg of his chair.

The chair twisted even as she lost her balance on the stupid heels, only Marcus catching hold of her hips keeping her from breaking her ankle, though she still yelped as pain lanced up her leg.

“Are you hurt?”

His hands were icy through the thin silk of her dress, but it was his eyes, which were squeezed shut, that held her attention. The desperateness in his expression melted Teriana’s anger into grief, and her voice caught as she asked, “Why won’t you look at me?”

He didn’t answer, only jerked his hands away from her hips to grasp the arms of the chair again.

“If you ever cared anything for me, then you’ll prove it and look me in the eye.” Her whole body shook because this was so much worse than she’d thought it would be.

“It’s because I care that I won’t.”