Page 162 of Scorched Earth
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 gomy 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 hismouth. 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?” Felixhissed. “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?”
