“The matter isn’t settled until we say it’s settled,” the leader declared, signalling his men forward.
Katell’s blood roused as the soldiers closed in. Her muscles tensed; her senses sharpened. She only had a dagger, but she didn’t need more. With the Tears still burning in her veins, she could kill them all—cut down anyone who dared threaten her people?—
“Kat…?” Arnza’s voice broke through, thin and uncertain behind Pinaria’s barrier.
She forced herself to breathe, shaking off the bloodlust creeping in. She wasn’t here to start a war. Dorias had trusted her to lead, not lose control.
“Stay put, Arnza,” she ordered without turning.
Larth edged closer, eyes alight with anticipation. “Though I’d prefer not to have our infamous praefect fighting my battles, now might be a good time to put that dagger to use.”
She didn’t look at him. “We’re not fighting.” Her voice cut through the rising tension. “We’re leaving. Right now. Anyone who stands in our way will be stopped.”
It was a lie. She didn’t know how they’d make it back without bloodshed—not with her hands twitching for it and her heart racing—but she had to try. She was the Black Helmets’ leader, and she had vowed to keep them safe.
A few soldiers scoffed, and Larth offered a wolfish grin, as if calling her bluff. “Lead the way.”
Katell squared her shoulders and stepped forward. “Fine. Let’s go. Arnza, grab Tia and stay close.”
She made it two steps before the cohort leader blocked her path. “Stay right where you are until our legate arrives.”
Katell had no intention of meeting their legate. She never had, and after he’d thrown Atticus in chains, she had no intention to.
The cohort leader narrowed his eyes, the silent threat clear in his posture. Her fists curled at her sides, itching to break his nose. No officer from the Sixth had ever challenged her like this. Then again, maybe these idiots didn’t recognise her. Without her black breastplate, she looked like any other soldier.
“I’m accompanying my men back to our camp,” she said coolly. “You’re welcome to join us and bring your grievances to Legate Dalmatius.”
“Bring my grievances?!” he barked, face hardening. “We’re not in Kisra to debate issues at the Senate. This is the Eighth Legion, and we resolve things?—”
Katell’s patience snapped.
She moved before he could finish, slamming him aside with a single blow. He flew backwards, crashing into his own men. At least five went down with him, limbs tangled and faces stunned.
A shocked silence followed. Then a wave of whispers rolled through the crowd.
“That’s her. Viridia.”
“Laran’s Chosen…”
Within moments, the soldiers drew back, boots shuffling in the snow as a path opened between the fires.
Larth smirked, clearly savouring the shift in mood. “I could get used to this.”
Katell rolled her eyes and kept walking. “Let’s go.”
But they’d only taken a few steps before a deep voice boomed, “Vanth be damned, what’s going on here?”
Katell’s gut tightened.
The crowd parted to her left, and through the haze of firelight and smoke, an imposing figure emerged—red-crested helmet gleaming, crimson cloak sweeping behind him.
Legate Tyrrhenus had arrived.
CHAPTER FIVE
KATELL
“Who are you, and what in Laran’s name did you do to my men?” Tyrrhenus barked, his voice snapping through the camp with fierce authority.
