Page 91 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)
TERIANA
Leaving Marcus and Felix to their plans for the senator’s arrival, Teriana stepped out into the corridor where Quintus waited with the rest of Marcus’s guard, none of which were Gibzen’s men.
She’d not seen the primus since Felix had dismissed him, and she wondered if Marcus would allow the order to stand when he learned of it.
Either way, it was a problem for another hour, and catching hold of Quintus’s arm, she hauled him around the circular corridor of the tower to where her own rooms were located.
Kaira’s rooms, her conscience reminded her. Which you stole from her.
Shoving away the thought, Teriana said, “What do you know about Grypus?”
Her friend blinked. “Plotius? That old fart is still alive?”
“Apparently he’s arriving in Emrant in a matter of hours.” She slammed the bedroom door shut behind them. “Marcus isn’t happy.”
“Of course he isn’t. Grypus outranks him.
By a lot, if he’s still a proconsul.” Abandoning his helmet on a table, Quintus flopped onto a divan, nearly disappearing into the pile of pillows decorating it.
“He has good taste in wine, women, and olives, but I don’t think that’s the information you’re interested in. ”
Exhaling a steadying breath, Teriana perched on the edge of a chair and shook her head.
Quintus extracted himself from the pillows and rested his elbows on his knees.
“Hydrilla was a long siege. The rebels holding the fortress went into it well-supplied and their defenses were good. They repelled our attacks at every turn, although months in, they were starving. Most of what I know is rumor and hearsay, but apparently Marcus was of the opinion that the rebels would surrender, and it was only a matter of waiting them out, but Grypus wasn’t satisfied with that approach.
He wanted a glorious battle that would be talked about in Celendrial, never mind how many of us had to die to achieve it.
Hostus was primed for a big attack, and the Thirty-Seventh would’ve been on the front lines.
Marcus went to Grypus behind Hostus’s back and convinced him to allow Marcus to direct the attack.
No one knows quite how, but Hostus found out about it.
Cut Marcus up good and he nearly bled out, but he rallied enough to command the battle, which went exactly as planned.
The victory was one for the history books, which made Grypus happy.
He granted the Thirty-Seventh autonomy from the Twenty-Ninth, and we set off for Chersome. ”
An old memory of the conversation she’d had with Marcus after she’d been caught climbing into her mother’s room in Celendrial rose in Teriana’s mind.
When he’d bandaged her injured hand. It wasn’t until we were stationed in Bardeen that I had moved up enough in the Senate’s eyes to take command, he’d said.
It was an easier campaign than any we’ve had since—quite clear what had to be done from a tactical standpoint.
Only Marcus would claim a campaign was easy when he’d been half-dead while orchestrating it. “How did you win it?”
“By being smart.” Quintus explained what had happened, and Teriana’s eyes widened as she listened.
“There’s a whole lot more to the story,” Quintus said.
“But if I had to hazard a guess, Marcus is unhappy because Grypus cares more about glory than he does lives, legion or otherwise. Grypus can’t claim this victory as his, so he’ll be looking for something else to fight over that will make him the talk of the Hill.
” Quintus sighed. “It means expanding our reach, probably using force because Grypus hates negotiation.”
Which was the exact opposite of hers and Marcus’s goal to negotiate a peaceful arrangement with Gamdesh. And it was all happening so quickly. Teriana pressed her fingers to her temple, feeling panic starting to rise. “Is there a way to control him?”
“I imagine that’s the exact thought running through Marcus’s mind right now.”
A knock sounded at the door, and Quintus rose, hand going to the weapon at his belt. “Yeah?”
“Senator came early,” a male voice called through. “He’s on his way to the fortress with his escort. Legatus wants Teriana with him.”
Quintus glanced at Teriana, and after she nodded, he called back, “All right.”
Sweat broke out on her palms, and Teriana glanced at herself in the large mirror on the wall, taking some confidence from the composed woman looking back at her, even if it wasn’t how she felt. “Let’s go, then.”
Quintus donned his helmet, then opened the door.
Glancing in both directions, he nodded and led her down the corridor.
The sandals she’d taken from Kaira’s closet made soft pats against the stone as they descended the tower stairs, walking through the maze of corridors until they reached the courtyard.
Marcus stood with Nic and Servius, heads bent together in discussion, expressions grim.
Servius raised an eyebrow at the sight of her. “Enjoying the spoils of war?”
Shame over her decision to wear the Gamdeshian princess’s clothing flooded Teriana’s veins, and she quietly prayed that word of it would never reach Kaira’s ears.
She’d needed clean clothes. Had wanted to look pretty.
Hadn’t even considered the signals that it would send, and her naivety abruptly caused her to call into question whether it was madness to believe she could take on this role.
To believe she could stand between the most powerful nations in the world and move them to peace rather than war.
Someone called down from above that the party was approaching, and the chaotic mass of legionnaires and officers moved without hesitation into position in the courtyard. Marcus stepped to the center before the closed gates, Felix and Nic just behind him.
“Over here.” Quintus pulled her over to where Servius had taken up the Thirty-Seventh’s standard.
Outside, horns blasted a series of notes, and Marcus said, “Open the gates.”
Drying her sweating palms, Teriana squared her shoulders and stared forward as the towering twin gates swung open, the portcullis beyond rising to reveal a large procession of legionnaires. The front ranks were all Thirty-Seventh, but behind marched men who had to be well into their forties.
“He still has the Ninth with him—I recognize them,” Quintus muttered. “Shouldn’t they be retired?”
“Could be he hired them privately afterwards,” Servius answered. “It’s good pay.”
“But they’re wearing their number.”
“Yeah.” Servius’s tone was grim. “I see that.”
“What’s that mean?” Teriana asked Quintus under her breath.
“It means that the Senate has extended the mandatory years of service. Which they’d only do if they had reason to think they needed them.”
She needed no explanation for why that was a bad development.
The ranks of the Thirty-Seventh split to form up along the bridge, those of the Ninth marching into the courtyard to form neat lines with just enough space for a golden litter enclosed with crimson silk to press through.
The eight white-clad servants carrying the thing were dripping sweat and panting, their arms shaking as they slowly lowered it to the ground.
A servant with an impressive head of blond curls and golden Cel skin stepped forward and announced at top volume, “Our most esteemed proconsul, Plotius Grypus!”
Another servant moved aside the curtains, extending an arm to assist a Cel man in his sixties with standing.
The proconsul wore a gleaming white tunic and toga, the hem trimmed in crimson and gold to mark his office.
He was, as had been described to her, possessed of incredibly skinny limbs and a round torso, with beads of sweat dampening his brow and thinning grey hair.
A woman not much older than Teriana wearing a nearly transparent silk gown stepped out of the litter after him.
She straightened his garments, then retreated. A mistress, no doubt.
Every legionnaire in the courtyard thumped a hand to their chest in salute, then Marcus stepped forward. “Greetings, Proconsul. Welcome to Gamdesh.”
“Marcus!” Grypus closed the distance, and to Teriana’s shock, embraced Marcus, pounding him on the back.
“It’s good to see you, my boy. And well done in your efforts.
You are the toast of Celendrial.” Then he gripped Marcus’s shoulders, looking him up and down.
“Though not a boy anymore, are you? With your boldness, I’d half thought you’d never grow to be a man, yet here you are.
It’s no wonder all the ladies stop to admire your statue in the Forum. ”
“It is good to see you well,” Marcus replied, and Teriana wished she could see his expression. “Would you care to move out of the heat? My men will see to your escort, as well as to your belongings. I think you’ll find Gamdesh more suitable to your exacting standards than Chersome.”
“Let’s keep that to ourselves. If word reaches the wrong ears, we’ll be subjected to the company of my wife, and that would not spell good things for any of us.
” Grypus looked past Marcus, eyes latching onto Felix.
“Felix, my boy!” Then he lunged at Felix as though in a duel.
“Here’s one who deserves a statue! I look forward to resuming our practice sessions.
I think you’ll find I’ve become quite the force to be reckoned with in our time apart. ”
“It would be my honor and pleasure, Proconsul,” Felix said. “I’ve always said you had the finest form of any man in the Senate.”
“That’s not saying much,” Quintus said softly, only for Servius to mutter, “Keep your bloody mouth shut.”
Laughing, Grypus looked around the yard, his lip curling. “Where is Zimo?”
“Harbor,” Marcus answered. “He’s responsible for the Katamarcans.”
“Tell him to keep his distance,” Grypus growled. “I caught him with one of my girls in Chersome and told him if he ever got handsy again, I’d cut off the problem. She was one of my favorites, and I had to get rid of her after that.”