Her voice shook. “I… I don’t know what happened.”
“That’s all right,” Dorias said softly. “We’ll figure it out—together.”
He cupped her face in both hands, his calloused fingers warm against her chilled skin. Gently, he turned her eyes back to his. “Don’t look at the smoke. Just focus on me. Take a deep breath and centre your magic like I taught you. Bring it back within yourself.”
She focused on the warmth of his hand, and with each deep breath, she gathered the wisps of magic that had spilled fromher. It had never surged from her like this before—so untamed and hungry.
Slowly, the smoke dissipated, revealing the camp of the Eighth Legion and its watchtower looming over them. To the side, Arnza and Pinaria stood frozen, their faces drawn with worry. Nearby, Larth knelt in the packed snow, cradling an unconscious Tia against his chest, his expression stricken.
“Let’s get you back to your tent.” Clasping her arms, Dorias helped her to her feet. “Can you walk?”
She nodded, though her body trembled all over. Whatever had happened had drained her, leaving her exhausted as if she’d fought a fierce battle.
“Good. Then let’s go.”
Tyrrhenus staggered upright, supported by two of his men. “Now just wait a moment, Dalmatius. You can’t just leave?—”
Dorias stiffened, his arm tightening around Katell. “Not now, Tyrrhenus.”
“She almost tore my throat out! And Laran only knows what she would’ve done to my eye?—”
“I saidnot now!” Dorias snapped. “We’ll settle it later.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned. “Arnza, Pinaria, help Thocero with the wounded. Larth, get Tia to the infirmary, then report to me.”
No one questioned him. Silence rippled through the camp as orders were obeyed. With one arm firm around Katell’s waist, Dorias guided her through the quiet, firelit paths, back to their camp and her tent.
He dismissed Ladina with a curt nod. Katell, too drained to protest, let him ease her out of her clothes before collapsing on her bed.
Without a word, Dorias removed his cloak and armour, the soft rustle of leather and metal the only sound in the tent. Then his familiar weight dipped the mattress behind her, anda moment later, his strong arm wrapped around her. He pulled her close, tucking her against his chest as if to shield her from everything else.
His breath was soft against her hair, his presence anchoring her.
“I’ll stay with you,” he murmured. “Get some rest.”
Sleep drifted over her in a heavy haze, but peace eluded her.
She’d lost control. All of Dorias’ training, and when it most mattered, she’d lost control. But beyond that, a more haunting thought circled through her mind.
What if she had given in to the voices and spilled her own blood to feed that hunger?
What would have become of her then?
INTERLUDE ONE
CAIUS
Caius strode down a cobbled street of Kisra, his sandals slapping against the uneven stones while the sun strained to cut through the lingering morning chill. He pressed a perfumed handkerchief to his face, scowling behind the silk. The reek of unwashed bodies and piss still clung to the breeze like a curse, despite the Tarquinian Guard sweeping the street clean of beggars and commoners.
Spring had not yet arrived, and though the new sewage system was complete, Kisra’s foul odour seemed to mock his efforts—as if the city itself resisted his will out of spite.
His guards, servants, and a dozen senators followed in silence save for the dullthudof marching feet and thecreakof leather armour. Velthur remained a step behind, eyes sweeping the street for danger. All around, the once-bustling heart of Kisra held its breath, shops shuttered, windows watching.
Caius smiled. Let the tradesmen, whores, and slaves look. Let them look upon the one they would soon come to worship.
Before him, the temple site loomed—a forest of jagged scaffolds and beams rising against the hazy morning light.Towering wooden frames reached skywards, the ribs of some great beast laid bare, while stone blocks lay neatly stacked, each piece marked and numbered, awaiting its place in the growing skeleton.
Slaves swarmed the site like insects—a mass of half-naked, filthy bodies crawling in every direction. At his approach, they froze mid-task and dropped to their knees. At least they had the decency to look afraid.
Mercifully, there wasn’t a single Non-Human in sight. More than two dozen laboured on the temple, their brute strength an asset, but Caius couldn’t stand the sight of them. He never wished to be reminded again of the beasts that had almost cost him everything.
