“It’s in Achaea,” Pinaria replied.
He shot her a sharp look. “I know where it is. I meant, why are we going there?”
Katell retrieved the Emperor’s scroll and handed it to Pinaria. “The city is under siege. The Twelfth Legion needs help, and we’ve been tasked with finding a way inside.”
Pinaria opened the scroll, the brittle paper crackling between her hands. Her brow furrowed deeper with each line. Arnza leaned in, peering over her shoulder.
“Tiryns is supposed to be impregnable,” Tia muttered, glancing up. “I’ve heard it said many times. The Emperor has tried to bring down the city for years—ever since the Megarian massacre. The Grey-Eyed Maiden protects Tiryns’ walls withan impenetrable barrier, and as long as the queen sits on the throne, nothing will break it.”
Arnza tapped the parchment with his finger. “It says here that once we infiltrate the city, the Twelfth will kill the queen and her court.”
The tent went still.
All eyes turned to Katell, and the gravity of the mission settled like a heavy cloak on her shoulders.
She stood straighter, forcing her features into something unreadable even as unease twisted in her gut. Dorias hadn’t mentioned this part, but of course that was the goal—kill the queen, break the barrier, end the siege.
Yet the idea of helping to orchestrate the assassination of a foreign ruler left a sour taste in her mouth.
Pinaria lowered the scroll, her face pale in the morning light filtering through the canvas above. “And how exactly are we supposed to get through a barrier no one’s breached in years?”
Arnza rubbed his jaw. “We could use Romilda’s Gift. Move through the shadows, maybe. Slip past whatever’s guarding the gate.”
Pinaria shook her head. “If it were that easy, they would have done it by now.”
Arnza shrugged. “Well, maybe your barrier can overpower theirs.”
Tia let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “Overpower the Grey-Eyed Maiden’s barrier? Do you hear yourself?”
Arnza’s face hardened. “Pinaria is Gifted by Laran, and he’s stronger than any of the Achaean Twelve!”
Before anyone could respond, a low, exasperated groan rose from the cot. “Would you stop screeching like Gorgons? Some of us are trying to sleep here.”
“Larth!” Tia jumped to her feet and pressed a hand to his forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got flogged by Vanth herself,” he muttered, his eyes still squeezed shut.
Tia dipped a cloth into the basin beside his cot, wrung it out, and laid it across his brow. Larth let out a low groan of appreciation.
“All of you can piss off now,” he grumbled, “and come back later when I’m less interested in dying.”
Arnza huffed a relieved laugh, then tugged a hesitant Pinaria towards the tent flaps. “Come on. Let’s go pack.”
Tia lingered, visibly taken aback by Larth’s gruff dismissal. But before she could step away, his hand shot out and caught a fistful of her tunic, pulling her back beside him.
“Not you,” he murmured, his eyes cracking open just for her.
The silence that followed was weighted with something unspoken. The way Tia softened, the way his fingers curled against her side—it was intimate. Katell hated breaking up their reunion, but she couldn’t wait.
She approached the cot, her stomach roiling at the sight of the uncovered lacerations on Larth’s back. Most had been treated and covered with bandages, but a few deep gashes remained swollen and raw, seeping despite the ointment.
Tia gave Larth’s hand a quick squeeze before moving aside, offering Katell a solemn nod and space.
Larth’s eyes met hers, clear and steady, not a trace of pain in them. Katell managed a rueful smile. “I’m sorry they punished you instead of me. If I’d been awake, I would’ve stopped it.”
“Don’t worry about it, praefect,” he said, trying to shift but flinching as the movement tugged at raw muscle. The grimace cracked through his composure. “It was my own damn fault.”
“Still,” she pressed gently.
