Page 270 of Scorched Earth
“You all right?” Felix asked, kneeling in front of him.
Every breath was still a struggle, but he was getting enough air in his lungs that he was in no danger of dying. And though his head throbbed, for the first time in far too long, Marcus felt like himself again.
Agrippa sat in the dirt next to him, elbows resting on his knees. “Who were you shouting at, Marcus? Who was inside your head?”
“No one.” He’d let the villain inside him rule, and now everyone was going to pay.
Agrippa’s hazel eyes were shadowed, considering, then he nodded. “Right. Well, just to be clear, we aren’t surrendering. We’re not giving up Lydia. We’re fighting until the bitter end. Do with that what you will.”
Agrippa started to rise, but Marcus caught hold of his wrist. A puzzle that had once consumed him but recently been forgotten rose to the forefront of his mind, and Agrippa had the pieces he needed. “How did you end up in the river that flowed into the xenthier?” He sucked in a ragged breath of air. “It’s not like you to slip.”
“I didn’t slip. Silvara’s family was in Hydrilla. One of the other laundresses told her about my involvement in the battle, and she saw my actions as a betrayal. She pushed me into the river and I couldn’t get out of the flow.”
“Any chance the other laundress’s name was Carina?”
“Yeah. Carina would’ve seen everything.”
Marcus let go of Agrippa’s wrist, then pushed to his hands and knees. “Get me up, Felix.”
Felix and Servius hauled him to his feet, and though he still felt short of breath, Marcus walked outside with Agrippa. The ranks visibly relaxed at the sight of them both alive.
Quintus had been pacing in front of the tent. He went still at thesight of Agrippa, then in two steps, his arms were around him. “I didn’t believe them when they told me, but you’re here. You’re really here!”
“In the flesh.” There were tears in Agrippa’s eyes. “Wish we weren’t on the opposite sides of things, my friend.”
“We aren’t,” Quintus said, though what came next, Marcus didn’t hear, because rather than following them to Agrippa’s horse, he stayed in front of the tent.
“What are we going to do?” Felix asked softly. “We’re cut off from the Empire with tens of thousands of men to feed and water.”
“We could move south to Serlania,” Servius muttered. “Commandeer ships and make our way south.”
Marcus didn’t answer, his gaze traveling beyond Quintus and Agrippa to the group of riders sitting on the ridgeline. Lydia’s long dark hair blew sideways in the wind, a crown glittering upon her head, and he was struck with a memory of her as a child, tucking that long hair behind her ears as she bent over a book.
How differently would things have gone if his father had not decided to send him to Lescendor instead of his brother? How differently would things have gone if Valerius had not decided Lydia should be wed? Both Marcus and Lydia would have been rendered useless to Cassius in his quest for power, and without them, would he have climbed so far? Would Reath have suffered as it had?
“Agrippa is a valuable resource,” Felix murmured. “You sure you don’t want to hold on to him?”
“Let him go. He’s not ours anymore.” Marcus drew in a breath, his chest aching. “Where is Amarin?”
Felix cast him a sideways look. “He’s been keeping my tent in order, which means he’s bored stiff. You of a mind to have him back?”
“I should never have let him go.”
Gibzen chose that exact moment to appear, a vial clutched in one hand. “You’re not letting Agrippa go, are you? He’s a deserter! He’s the enemy!”
Marcus rocked on his heels, eyeing his primus and finally seeing clearly. “After the battle for Hydrilla, you told me that Agrippa had deserted with Silvara.”
“Because that’s what the other laundress said.” Gibzen scowled. “She told you herself about them carrying on. Spending nights together. The promises he made to run away with her and such.”
“Carina.”
Gibzen huffed out a breath. “I don’t remember her name. Some old Bardenese woman.”
“But you followed the tracks.” Marcus watched Agrippa push his horse into a trot, heading toward the distant ridge where the Mudamorians watched on, not one of the Thirty-Seventh attempting to stop him. “You were certain that it was Agrippa and Silvara heading to rebel territory.”
“Well obviously I was wrong. There’s only so much a man can tell about a footprint in the snow. Doesn’t change the fact that Agrippa should have come straight back to us once he learned we were here. Instead, he’s filling our enemies’ heads with information on our strategies. He’s not just a deserter, he’s a traitor!”
“Someone was giving Hostus information during the siege of Hydrilla all those years ago,” Marcus pressed, watching Quintus approach. Seeing the rage in his eyes. “Hostus knew things that only the Thirty-Seventh would know. Secrets between brothers.”
