Page 73 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

Laughter from behind caught Teriana’s attention, and she turned her head to see the officers all filling their cups with drinks, toasting an easy victory, platters of food already filling the table of the pavilion.

Nic was speaking excitedly with Felix, his face flushed with excitement, whatever frustration he’d felt about not knowing every step of the plan clearly erased by the glow of victory.

Marcus stood apart from the rest, and though there was a cup in his hand, he did not drink, only watched Astara circle, his face expressionless.

Teriana’s heart stuttered, and a fresh wave of adrenaline surged through her veins because every instinct in her body warned that what she’d just witnessed was the tip of the iceberg.

Warned that Marcus’s strategy had only just begun, and that she had only his word and a hair ornament to support her faith that he’d know when to finish it.

With his face still tipped to the sky, Marcus said, “If Astara comes within range, shoot her down, else she’ll carry word of our victory here to Kaira, and I want their focus on Zimo.”

Nic moved to give the order to the Fifty-First surrounding their position, and several of the boys turned their eyes skyward, weapons at the ready.

Another gods-damn trick.

Teriana clenched her teeth, knowing damn well that if Marcus actually wanted Astara dead, there’d be archers hidden and watching for her.

Knowing, with the same surety that the underworld would take her soul for her role in this, that Marcus wouldn’t have looked up at the sky as he gave the order to shoot her down, allowing the farseeing hawk to read his lips.

Nic watched Astara circle, hand shading his eyes against the sun. “Doesn’t look as though she’s going to come in range, sir. Orders?”

Face twisting in annoyance, Marcus drained his cup, then looked back up at the sky.

“It’s of no consequence. Let her flap back to her mistress and tell Kaira of how easily the northern bank fell.

If Kaira knows what’s good for her, she’ll surrender Emrant, else they’ll soon discover what it’s like to be under siege by the Empire. ”

Was it a threat or a warning? Teriana’s blood chilled, every part of her hating the cold expression on Marcus’s face.

We do not fall back.

Then his face blanched, and Marcus screamed, “Shoot her!”

Teriana’s eyes shot skyward to find Astara dropping with deadly speed, talons outstretched.

Not for Marcus.

For her.

A weight struck Teriana’s side, all the air rushing out of her lungs as Quintus slammed her into the ground.

An ear-piercing screech of talon against metal filled the air, then Quintus was twisting.

Sun glinted off a blade. Blood splattered Teriana in the face.

The hawk shrieked, wings pounded, wind sending feathers swirling.

And Astara was gone.

Quintus made an oof sound as he was yanked off her, then Marcus’s face was inches from hers, blue-grey eyes wide with panic. “Are you hurt? Do you need a medic?” Without waiting for an answer, he shouted, “Get Racker!”

Gasping for breath, Teriana managed to say, “I don’t need him. I’m…”

She trailed off as Marcus lifted her upright. His palms were hot through her clothing, his breath rapid as his eyes roved over her body, checking for injuries.

“I just had the wind knocked out of me.” Her braids made little clinks as her beads swung against the metal of his breastplate.

It seemed both a lifetime and a heartbeat ago that he’d last touched her, and the world faded away as his eyes locked on hers, the emotionless commander gone and the man she loved once again before her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and Teriana instinctively knew it wasn’t for Astara’s attack.

It was for everything else. What she knew. And what she didn’t.

“I’m fine, too, sir,” Quintus said. “Thank you for inquiring.”

Marcus ignored him, as well as the officers in the pavilion who watched with keen interest. Like they were assessing the level of sentiment between them. “She did that to get back at me.” He growled the words. “This is why I didn’t want you involved.”

And yet he hadn’t sent her away.

Teriana shook her head. “Here or not here, it doesn’t matter. My people have named me a traitor and put a target on my back. I think it fair to say the Gamdeshians have done the same.”

“Traitor?” Marcus’s eyes blazed with terrifying fury. “After everything you’ve done for your people?”

“It’s because of what I’ve done.” She hung her head, unable to meet his gaze. “They see those five hundred as casualties of war. The cost of saving them too high to pay.”

“Teriana, why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

She laughed because the alternative would be to cry. “Because you never gave me a chance. And because it doesn’t change anything.” She lifted her face and stared Marcus down. “I’m not going to break.”

His eyes searched hers. “I know you won’t.”

Climbing to his feet, Marcus pulled Quintus upright and inspected the gouges in the metal on his back. “You’ll need to have that repaired. And I’m assigning you more men.”

“That bird should never have gotten so close.” Quintus glared down the slope at the Fifty-First archers, who were shifting uneasily as though anticipating reprimand. “They stop teaching boys how to aim at Lescendor? How did every single one of you miss?”

“Because they were under orders to miss.” Marcus took another step away from Teriana. “I wanted Astara to deliver a count of our numbers and position. But now…” He turned to Felix, who was tracking Astara through a spyglass. “How badly did Quintus wound her?”

“Can’t tell.” Felix lowered the glass. “But she’s not struggling to fly, and I assume one of their healers will mend her.” His eyes flicked to Teriana, and she nodded confirmation even as she hunted for her composure.

“She’s passed the third marker, sir,” Nic said from where he stood on the ridgeline squinting after Astara. “Do we continue with the plan?”

Marcus had known Astara would track them down. Had wanted her to see all this and bring the news back to Kaira. Teriana swallowed hard, her mind racing through what he could possibly be planning next.

“Do you still wish to pursue the same strategy, sir?” Felix asked.

Marcus exhaled slowly, watching the progress in his directives the legions were making, expression distant. “Yes. Proceed.”

Teriana’s heart beat wildly as Felix stepped close to a signalman, who nodded several times as he was given lengthy instructions, which Teriana couldn’t overhear.

But immediately, the boats that had been used in the attack began returning to the south side of the river even as more that had gone unused were dragged down to the water’s edge.

And the Forty-First finally began to move.

Gear slung over their shoulders, they marched down to the water’s edge and began loading into the boats by the dozens. The hundreds. The thousands. Not to row across to the north bank, but to float downstream.

As she watched, Marcus stepped close to Felix, their foreheads pressed together as they spoke.

Then Marcus clapped him on the shoulder, and Felix said, “Take care of him, Amarin. Food. Water. And at least some sleep,” before starting toward the river.

Within moments, Felix was in one of the vessels and drifting out of sight.

“Where are they going?” she demanded. “What’s going on?”

Marcus didn’t answer, and taking a few quick steps, she grabbed his arm. “What are you doing, Marcus?”

But the man she loved was gone again, the Empire commander firmly in control as he said, “What I do best.”

The men all raised their full cups in toast, then they walked down the slope to Rastag’s bridge, leaving Teriana and Quintus with a handful of the Fifty-First on the ridgetop.

We do not fall back.