Page 64 of Taming the Eagle
“Sorry to bother you at this hour, General.” The helmed soldier slammed his fisted right hand over his heart in greeting. Fenella noted that the man didn’t glance over at the bed; instead, he kept his gaze firmly upon the legate. “But the fort’s under attack.”
Fenella’s breathing hitched, coldness seeping over her.
It’s too early. The full moon was still a few days off.
The deep, resonant boom of a horn ripped through the air then, shattering the night’s calm, and Justin swore once more.
Fenella’s heart bucked against her ribs. Toutorix had clearly decided to strike early.
“I’ll be right there,” Justin told the optio, stepping back. “In the meantime, alert the rest of my officers.”
The optio nodded, turned, and marched off, his heavy sandals slapping on the pavers.
Fenella watched Justin dress. He moved deftly, his jaw clenched and gaze narrowed.
Nervousness coiled in her belly. Already the memory of him as her tender, passionate lover was fading.
General Aquila now stood before her.
Over his tunic, Justin fitted a leather harness and a pleated leather skirt. He then glanced Fenella’s way. They hadn’t spoken since the optio had delivered the news, although their gazes fused.
“Can you help me?” he asked, gesturing to where his armor hung upon a stand near the bed. It was a request, not an order. He wasn’t speaking to her as her master but as a lover. “Usually Aedan does this, but there’s no time to fetch him.”
Nodding, Fenella climbed naked out of bed and retrieved the lorica, strapping it onto his shoulders, back, and chest. Kneeling at his feet, she then fastened greaves about his legs before helping him strap on the bracers about his forearms.
And all the while, they didn’t speak.
There was little to be said.
Ardoch was under attack, and he needed to be out there, leading his men.
Fenella’s belly cramped then.
Against my people.
She had to gather her wits and ready herself to go.
Nausea rolled over her. It was too soon—she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t just unprepared in a practical sense, but also emotionally. Her encounters with Justin had distracted her, disarmed her. Spending the night in his arms had roused conflicting thoughts—ones she now desperately pushed aside.
Nonetheless, she had no choice, for the attack was upon them.
She finished helping Justin dress and stepped back, watching as he strapped his gladius around his hips. Justin then glanced up, and their gazes held for a heartbeat.
“Stay inside the praetorium, Fenella,” he commanded, moving close to her and brushing his knuckles across her cheek. “No matter what happens … don’t venture outside.” He kissed her then—a brief, bruising embrace—before he turned, his purple cloak billowing behind him. Grabbing his plumed helmet, he stalked from the room.
The thunder of soldiers’ feet, as they rushed up the steps and ladders onto the wall, rumbled across the fort. The sour tang of fear filled the air, yet the men’s training prevented any of them from giving in to panic. Instead, they formed orderly ranks, waiting for their general’s command.
“They’ve got us surrounded,” Marcus informed Justin when he joined him upon the northern guard tower that spanned the Porta Praetoria.
“Futuo,” Justin muttered. Had his sentries all been asleep tonight? “How did they manage to get so close without anyone raising the alarm?”
“Stealth. They took down our two nearest watchtowers before the men could alert us,” Marcus replied, his tone grim. “They also killed most of our men there … before two of our sentries made it back to warn us.”
Justin’s mouth thinned. Raising a shield an optio had just passed him, he moved close to the spiked palings, his gaze sweeping the darkness below. Fires burned upon the walls of Ardoch, casting a glow over the series of ditches and ramparts below the walls.
A waxing gibbous moon sailed high in the clear skies overhead. And now that Justin’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he spied the outlines of men below: eyes, bare limbs, and unsheathed blades gleaming in the moonlight. Many of them carried flaming torches, which made it look as if fireflies swarmed around the base of the fort.
Justin swore again. “Curse that storm bird,” he growled.