Killian blinked, envisioning Bercola with her shaved head, colorlesseyes, and frame like a tree trunk. “Yes,” he hazarded. “That description fits.”
“I don’t suppose we’ll be seeing her when we return to Mudamora?”
“It’s probable she’s with my family,” Killian answered. “Why?”
“Because she’s my wife.” Baird gave a morose sigh. “You go get some rest, Killian. I’ll take first watch tonight.”
Wife?Killian gave his head a little shake as he walked back to where the others were setting out their bedrolls, barely more than shadows. He picked up his own bedroll, about to lay it out when he hesitated, his eyes on the slender shadow that was Lydia. She lay with her back to the others, wrists bound to the tree, and though she wasn’t moving, he knew she wasn’t asleep.
What she needs is an ally who will stand back-to-back with her in every fight.
Picking up his blanket, Killian walked over and put it down behind her. Lydia turned her head. “What are you doing? You need to be out of reach.”
“If you move or tense, I’ll feel it.” He flopped down next to her so that their backs were pressed together. “I’ll be able to warn the others.”
“But you’re in easy reach.”
He was abundantly aware of that given the heat of her body against his, the tight curve of her backside pressed against the small of his back. “I’m also in possession of a god mark that will allow me to react quickly if something goes wrong.” He was quiet for a moment, then added, “I know you don’t trust yourself right now, Lydia, but I hope you still trust me.”
Her whole body was rigid with tension, the silence so heavy he felt reluctant to breathe. Then Lydia whispered, “With my life,” and relaxed against him.
The words made Killian’s chest swell, but there was no escaping the dread lurking in the back of his mind that the worst was yet to come.
23TERIANA
Sitting in Quintus’s tent, Teriana squinted in the faint light, trying and failing to write a letter to her aunt Yedda.
There were a million things she needed to tell her, not the least of which was that she was alive, because she had no idea if her crew had been informed that she was missing, and no one in either legion seemed inclined to tell her.
None of them seemed inclined to talk to her at all.
It seemed an eternity since she’d last seen her ship. Her crew. Her family. Closing her eyes, she imagined the vessel running on the wind, blue sails taut, spray filling the air. At sea was where she was meant to be, but the vision felt faded. As though the time she’d spent apart from all that she held dear had lessened their hold on her mind and heart, which made the guilt she felt all the worse.
Drumming her fingers against her thigh, Teriana stared at the blank page, then started detailing the facts of what had happened, leaving out anything that was best communicated in person.
Or not at all.
Teriana didn’t know whether her crew had heard the rumors about her and Marcus, but if they had, she could only imagine what they would think. Part of her wanted to scream that it was only because they didn’t understand, that they didn’t know him, that the situation was complicated. Yet despite all of that, most of her people would see her falling in love with a Cel legatus as a betrayal. Maybe they’d turn their backs on her, as her mother had.
Maybe she deserved it.
I’ve secured freedom for a portion of those captive in Celendrial, but many remain imprisoned. They will be released when xenthier stems are found that are to the Senate’s satisfaction. Mum is still safe in Senator Valerius’s care, and he assures me that she is well.
She mused over whether to tell her aunt that she’d been given the opportunity to rejoin her crew but decided against it.
I wish it were possible for me to see you, but I hope that we’ll be reunited, permanently, sooner rather than later.
Her eyes flicked up to where Quintus was reading a book, a bottle of rum sitting next to him.
If you are able, please find an injured legionnaire named Miki. He was hurt keeping me safe, and I owe him my life. Please let him know that I’m sharing a tent with Quintus, who is doing well but misses him terribly.
Teriana
Folding it up, she shoved it into her pocket to give to Servius for delivery later.
The camp, which had been empty while the legions trained on the plains outside, was now filled with voices and chatter. Though she’d heard Servius had assigned the Fifty-First labor-intensive duties, they still seemed flush with energy, groups of them racing through camp with a ball, playing some form of game.
“Did you used to play games like them?” she asked Quintus. “The Thirty-Seventh, I mean.”
