Page 93 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

MARCUS

Marcus sat across the table, watching Grypus stuff his face with food being fed to him by one of the many young female servants he always kept around him.

The young woman masked her revulsion well, but Marcus could see it in her eyes.

In the way her jaw imperceptibly tightened every time the man touched her, leaving grease marks on the silk of her dress.

The same grasping hands Grypus had tried to touch Teriana with, and it took all of Marcus’s willpower not to draw his gladius and use the hilt to smash every one of the proconsul’s lecherous fingers to pulp.

“We can have another three legions here within the week,” the proconsul said, wine dribbling down his chin.

The young woman wiped it away with a cloth, then refilled his glass.

“We couldn’t have asked for a better staging point with Padria, it being a port.

Food, weapons, men, women ”—he leered at the servant woman—“all at our fingertips. Let the Gamdeshians scorch their earth. The only impact it will have is them starving themselves while we feast like the emperors of old.”

You sick piece of shit. Marcus’s jaw flexed, his control over his hatred for this man fracturing.

Running a finger over the map, Grypus added, “We could control Revat within the year. Governor of Gamdesh has a good ring to it.” He grinned, then took a mouthful of wine.

“We will all be legends. And the gold…” He drained his glass.

“You get your head on straight and some of that can go in your direction, Marcus. The Maarin girl has what she wants, which means she’ll be on her way.

Might already be gone given the speed with which she sprinted out of the room. ”

Marcus didn’t answer because he didn’t trust what he might say. Didn’t trust himself not to reach across the table and tear out Grypus’s tongue so that he might never speak Teriana’s name again.

Grypus belched loudly. “I was a fool when it came to girls when I was your age, boy, so don’t think I don’t understand it.

The difference is that I was the heir to one of the greatest patrician families on the Hill, whereas you are property.

I could do what I wanted, whereas you, if you know what’s good for you, will do as you’re told.

” His eyes flicked to Nic. “I’m sure you’ve seen the consequences of his weakness, so hopefully you’ll be wise and not make the same mistakes. ”

“Yes, Proconsul,” Nic said, and Marcus’s irritation grew with the flicker of judgment in his eyes.

“Smart boy.” Grypus rested his elbow on the table, and said, “I’ve already begun putting things in order.

My Ninth engineer brought enough black powder to make short work of the pagan nonsense looming over Emrant.

He’s a man with talent—something of an expert when it comes to destroying unwanted xenthier paths, which he claims is all in the timing of the blast. He’ll have those towers down by now—I’m surprised we haven’t heard the explosions. ”

Before Marcus could react, the ground trembled and a loud boom filled the air.

Grypus cackled, but Marcus only closed his eyes for a heartbeat. This was only the beginning if Grypus remained in control.

He shouldn’t be in control.

The trembling ceased, and a cold breeze blew beneath the heavy door to fill the room.

“The Ninth is a legion that follows orders. Good men who understand the way of things.” When Marcus didn’t respond, Grypus made a face and slapped his servant on the thigh. “More wine, woman.”

As the woman poured, Marcus shifted his gaze to the map, feeling his control over the situation slipping between his fingers.

With it was flowing the dream he’d had for such a precious short time.

A dream where he wouldn’t be a blood-soaked conqueror but rather a peacemaker.

A dream where Teriana didn’t get on the Quincense when it arrived in port but remained with him.

A dream where it was her voice negotiating across the table from him on behalf of the West, and every night they’d fall asleep in each other’s arms.

He wanted that dream, wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything, and this gluttonous piece of shit was going to take it away. Grypus was the Senate’s hand reaching across the seas to move pieces and manipulate players to the Empire’s advantage, and Marcus hated him.

A rising tide of frustration and rage swelled in his chest. And the voice asked, Who is this man to tell you what to do? Who is he to ruin all that you’ve worked for?

“Austornic,” Marcus said softly, “would you please go ensure that the proconsul’s quarters are in order.”

Nic frowned. “Servius—”

“Is occupied. And I don’t want anything not to the proconsul’s standards.”

“I will have the royal chambers,” Grypus said around a mouthful of food. “No doubt they are base compared to what I’m used to, but I will make do.” He jerked his chin at the concubine. “Go with him. I want you waiting.”

Teriana’s rooms.

“Yes, Proconsul.” Nic was nearly at the door as Marcus added, “Please ensure those on guard know that we are not to be disturbed, under any circumstance.”

The boy gave him a curious frown but nodded and left the room, the solid oak door thudding behind him.

Grypus, Marcus noticed, was no longer chewing, but was instead watching him warily. “You have a matter you wish to discuss?”

“You might say that,” Marcus said. Then he was across the table, his hand closing around Grypus’s throat to silence the scream.

Grypus struggled, but Marcus forced him to the ground, fingers like vises around the man’s throat.

Kneeling on Grypus’s chest, Marcus eased his grip to allow him to gasp in a single breath before squeezing it again. “Having listened to your plans for Gamdesh, Proconsul,” he said, “I find that you and I are not in alignment, for I have a very different vision of how this will go.”

He eased up his grip and Grypus gasped, “You’re a fool if you believe—”

“That I have a say?” Marcus finished for him, having tightened his fingers. “Oh, but I do have a say, Grypus. I hold the power here, not you, and yet you come into my camp and think to tell me how things are going to go. Allow me to clarify for you: things will go my way. ”

Grypus’s face was purpling, so Marcus allowed him another breath, and time to say, “Cassius will kill you for this. He already wants you dead, but I can protect you.”

“I don’t need protection,” Marcus said. “What I need is control, and that is the one thing you’ll never give me.” He smiled, leaning down to meet Grypus’s eyes. “So I will do what I do best and take it by force.”

“You won’t get away with it,” Grypus wheezed. “They’ll hang you for murder.”

“True,” Marcus said, grabbing a handful of olives, “which is why I’m going to make it look like an unfortunate accident.”

Easing his grip on the man’s throat, he waited for Grypus to open his mouth to gasp in a breath and then dumped the olives into his mouth. Grypus’s eyes bulged as his desperate breath drew in more than just air, but Marcus only kept him pinned to the carpet.

He watched Grypus purple, then, when he was certain it would be too late for salvation, he released him. “Help!”

The door exploded open, and Marcus shouted, “He’s choking on an olive! Get a medic!”

Men of the Ninth surged into the room, lifting Grypus and smacking his back, trying to dislodge the olive.

Grypus raised a hand to point at Marcus, but then his bloodshot eyes rolled backward and he slumped in the men’s arms.

“Medic!” Marcus shouted again. “Get a medic in here!”

One appeared, Felix on his heels. “What happened!” he demanded.

“He choked on one of those stupid olives he loves so much.”

Silence.

But it was a silence that spoke volumes, for Felix was never easy to fool.

A medic arrived and knelt next to Grypus, pressing fingers to his throat and shaking his head. Marcus watched as the medic stuck his fingers into Grypus’s mouth, extracting an olive, then attempted to get the man breathing again before turning to look at Marcus. “Dead.”

Everyone stood staring down at Grypus’s corpse, his face purple, and unseeing eyes shot with blood.

“Have the body prepared and sent back to Celendor,” Marcus finally said, then looked to the members of the Ninth Legion who served as Grypus’s guard. “You can communicate what happened, yes?”

“Choked on an olive,” the centurion muttered, none of the Ninth appearing remotely sorrowful over the proconsul’s passing.

Turning on his heel, Marcus started down the hallway only for Felix to grab his arm and yank him into an antechamber, slamming the door shut. “What did you do?”

Marcus crossed his arms. “Solved a problem.”

“By murdering a proconsul in cold blood?” Felix threw up his hands. “Have you lost your mind?”

“You know what a warmonger Grypus is.” Was. “His plans were for us to immediately begin a campaign to press north and take Revat. No negotiation. Only force. We didn’t nearly kill ourselves with this gambit to take Emrant without a fight only to turn around and slaughter our way north!”

“And you think that killing Grypus will spare us that fate?” Felix hissed.

“If his plan was to press north, that means it’s Cassius’s plan.

And he’ll just send another senator to take up governorship with the same mandate and more bodyguards, because while they might not be able to pin this murder on you, do not for a heartbeat think that they won’t suspect!

You’ve bought us days of peace. Maybe weeks.

But unless Cassius loses the consulship race, the Empire’s plans for us have not changed!

” Felix gave an angry shake of his head.

“Maybe you ought to go back to bed. Maybe you’re not ready to be making decisions. ”

He’s trying to take your power, the voice said. The Senate will make him give up command of the Forty-First, but in truth they were never enough. Felix commanded the Thirty-Seventh while you were gone, and now he wants it back.

A sudden rush of anger turned his skin hot and Marcus shoved Felix.

“I’m in command here!” he snarled. “Things will go how I want them to go, and anyone who has a problem with it can follow Grypus to the grave. We will make peace with Gamdesh, establish trade with the Empire, and the Senate will have to be content with that.”

Felix stared at him. “Is this because of Teriana? Has she put it in your head that this is possible?”

“She hasn’t put anything in my head.”

Felix scrubbed a hand over his face, then said, “No one wants a war with Gamdesh, Marcus. We’d all be happy to sit tight here in Emrant for the next five years, but it’s not going to happen.

They won’t let us. And if you refuse to follow Cassius’s orders and are named a traitor, they’ll either find a way to drag you back to be executed or send assassins to take care of the job.

Peace is a dream but never our reality, and you of all people should know that! ”

The voice reared in Marcus’s head, repeating Grypus’s words. You’ve been given too long a leash for too long a time and have it in your head that you possess real power. Remember that the Senate owns you.

Not anymore.

“I will make it our fucking reality!” he snarled at Felix. “And may this land’s gods help anyone who gets in my way.”