It took all his self-control not to react. “We’ve had more pressing—”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard your reasons why the xenthier isn’t a priority. Except I know that you could have a hundred priorities on your plate and it wouldn’t stop you from making room for another. So the fact you’ve done nothing to find xenthier stems tells me you don’t want them found.”
Marcus knew he should deny it. Should make up a good excuse for his actions that would put Servius off the subject. But he found himself not wanting to. “Do you like it here?”
“Of course I like it here,” Servius answered. “This is the closest I’ve been to a free man since my seven-year-old self walked through the gates of Campus Lescendor. But the moment those paths are discovered, we go back to being nothing more than the identification numbers they tattooed on our backs. And we’ll have to do their bidding or we’ll find ourselves hanging from the noose.”
Freedom. It was almost too much to dream of, but Marcus dreamed of it anyway. And apparently he wasn’t alone.
The words sitting on his tongue were treason, and yet he said, “What if we never find xenthier paths, Servius? What if … what if we never even start looking for them?”
Servius was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “That would be fine by me. But whether they get found or not isn’t entirely within our control.”
Marcus knew what he meant. There were dozens and dozens of unmapped genesis stems in the Empire, and the Senate had sent path-hunters through every single one of them a week after the Thirty-Seventh and Forty-First departed, with specific instructions that they were to seek the legions out if they found themselves in the Dark Shores. And the Senate would keep sending men, because there were always volunteers who’d risk everything for the chance at gold and glory.
“We’ve had no contact,” Marcus answered. “Heard not even a rumor of one of those path-hunters having made it to the Dark Shores.”
“We’re talking about half of Reath, Marcus. Word we are in Arinoquia won’t even have reached most places yet. It could take a year for them to make their way to us. Longer.”
He hated that uncertainty. Hated knowing that at any moment, an Empire path-hunter could arrive at the gates to their camp. Chewing on the insides of his cheeks, he said, “The Senate’s ignorance could be our salvation. Unless we get word back to them that the path-hunter reached us, they’ll never know.”
A Forty-First patrol—the same one he’d passed earlier—walked by. They saluted, likely recognizing Servius for his size, then carried on.
Only after they were out of sight did Servius say, “That’s a big secret. And one not everyone would want to keep.”
Titus.
And not just him. There were plenty of men who liked life in the legions, Felix being the first who came to mind. Even those who might wish for something else had obedience so deeply engrained in them that they’d resist going against the Senate’s orders. There were more still who’d fear the punishment that would fall upon them if their treason were ever discovered.
And there was Teriana. If the paths were never found, she’d never fulfill her agreement with the Senate, which meant her mother and her people would remain prisoners. Which meant he’d have to keep her a prisoner in order to prevent her from taking both the Quincense and the information back to the Empire, the thought of which made him ill. As it was, he couldn’t silence all of the Maarin.
It was a secret he had no chance of keeping.
“What are you going to do?” Servius asked.
The rain eased, the deluge transforming to mist that ghosted in white clouds through the god circle.
“Keep doing what I’m doing,” he finally answered. “I’ll play both sides.”
“A plan you’re well-equipped for.” Servius rose to his feet. “With that resolved, you think we might head back to camp? You might enjoy wallowing in misery, but I’m partial to a dry tent and my bedroll.”
I told her I wouldn’t come back.
The stubborn part of him wanted to stand his ground and refuse to go back. To let her stew.
As though sensing his thoughts, Servius said, “Don’t be a petty jackass. Let’s go.”
They walked elbow to elbow through Aracam, then out of the city toward camp. Servius called out the passwords as they drew closer, and the gates swung open to allow them entrance.
Marcus’s eyes went immediately to where Felix stood waiting. Their eyes latched, and Marcus struggled with the mix of emotions that swirled through his mind. When his father had abandoned him to succumb to his illness at Campus Lescendor, it had been Felix who’d kept him alive. Who’d kept Marcus’s illness a secret, hiding him and pretending to be him, because even at age seven, he’d known that they weeded weakness out early in the legions. And they’d stood at each other’s backs ever since.
Until now.
Something must have shown on his face, because Felix’s jaw tightened. Then he gave a sharp salute and strode in the direction of his tent.
“You really throwing away nearly thirteen years of friendship over a girl?” Servius muttered under his breath.
“This isn’t about her.” Because it wasn’t. Not in the way Servius meant. It was because the traitor’s actions had gotten six of their brothers slaughtered. Had gotten Miki injured so badly that he’d never walk. And yes, because it had seen Teriana beaten and nearly killed.
And there would be no justification that would allow him to forgive the betrayal: If Marcus found proof that Felix was the traitor, he’d do more than throw away their friendship. He’d see him hang. “Go get some rest. I intend to do the same.”
His own tent
