Page 81 of Taming the Eagle
Her sorrow hadn’t been for her kin, but for herself.
Knuckling away her tears, she glanced behind her brother, to where a band of warriors looked on. They’d emerged from the trees behind her with such stealth that she hadn’t heard them.
She’d been too distracted by thoughts of the man she’d left behind.
Eogan stepped closer. “I looked for you during the attack … but I never got inside the fort.” He smiled. “You managed to escape then?”
She nodded.
“How?”
“I stole a dagger and some rope and crept up onto the walls after the siege ended,” she replied, surprised at how easily she lied. “Everyone was too busy tending the injured and clearing the dead … they didn’t see me go.”
Eogan’s gaze glinted. “Well done. I don’t suppose you slit the Eagle’s throat before you went?”
Fenella swallowed before shaking her head. Gods, she needed to change the subject, or she’d break down.
“I see no one has returned to Loch Tatha,” she said huskily.
Eogan shook his head. “No, we’ve made a new crannog north of here … at the foot of Ben Madui,” he replied, confirming what Justin had told her. His gaze then flicked to the fire she’d lit a few feet away. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you there … but tonight my men and I will camp here. Can we share your hearth?”
“Hadrian wants a full evacuation of the north.” Tribune Sebastian Flavius Lucius leaned back in his chair and regarded Justin under veiled lids. “How soon can you manage it, General?”
Seated opposite the tribune in the principia, Justin resisted the urge to growl a curse and rake a hand through his hair. However, the young tribune—blond, fresh-faced, and supremely arrogant—was watching him keenly, as if looking out for signs of strain.
This unexpected visit was the last thing he needed right now.
And Tribune Lucius was even cockier than he remembered.
“A week at most,” Justin replied after a pause.
Eight days had passed since the attack, since Fenella had ridden from his life. In that time, Justin had sent a report to Hadrian, and the response had been swift indeed.
The news the tribune had brought wasn’t that unexpected—but all the same, it rankled. Ardoch was his. The thought of abandoning it tore at his guts.
Flavius continued to watch him, his gaze narrowing. “The emperor is disappointed, General … you assured him you could hold the north.”
Justin stared back at the younger man. Flavius was beneath him in rank, although you wouldn’t have thought so from the tribune’s supercilious manner. As the emperor’s emissary, he was full of himself today.
“We have … Ardoch still stands, does it not?” Justin replied, refusing to be baited.
“So, you didn’t realize the Picti were gathering against you?”
“Of course I did … and I was ready,” Justin replied. “That’s why we prevailed … however, the northern tribes united this time.”
The tribune scratched his chin. “I suppose that’s rare.”
“It is.”
Flavius cocked a dark-blond eyebrow. “Of course, if you’d killed Toutorix the Wolf when you had the chance, you’d have prevented this attack.”
Justin drew in a deep, steadying breath, fighting not to show any reaction. He’d been transparent in his reports to Hadrian; the emperor knew what had happened the previous autumn. With a sinking sensation, Justin realized he was being punished for his lapse in judgment.
“I did what I thought was right at the time,” he said after a pause. “I was wary of causing Toutorix’s allies to rally against us.”
Flavius’s mouth pursed. “And yet they did anyway.”
“And we repelled them.” Justin’s tone flattened then. “Hundreds of Picti warriors died during the siege … we killed a number of their chieftains. They won’t be causing us any more problems for a while.”