“Did you know he could do that?” Lili asked.
“No.”
He didn’t. But gods, he was grateful.
The dronsian flapped down into place on Augustus’s shoulder and squawked.
“You’ve been hiding a few things, Little Gus,” he said.
The new nickname startled him. He hadn’t meant to say it, but somehow it felt right. Like something Mettius might’ve said.
The dronsian swept a wet tongue up Augustus’s cheek.
“Seriously?” Augustus groaned. “You ruin everything.”
With a final glance at the spreading inferno, Augustus turned and gave it his back.
“Weigh anchor,” he shouted ahead. “Get us the fuck out of here.”
Dimitrios stepped into the courtyard, past the high stone walls etched with scars from a long history of battles. Banners in blue and silver flapped from long poles overhead. The air was thick with sweat, leather, metal, and earth.
Soldiers marched or sparred in different sections, armor gleaming under the full, harsh sun. Weapons clattered, sharp commands barked, and the rhythmic stomp of boots told Dimitrios one thing was certain: Perean might be without a ruler, but it would never be without its protection.
He entered the cool corridors of the command buildingand found the office he wanted on the top floor—it used to belong to the Supreme Commander. Now, it belonged to the next highest-ranking officer in Perean.
High, arched windows faced the entire courtyard, and the man Dimitrios had sought stood at one of them, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders straight despite his years. Alexis Pateras was tall and lean, his himation a deep navy with silver accents that caught the light. Trimmed white hair crowned his head like a laurel wreath.
“General Pateras?”
The man turned at the waist. “My Lord. What can I do for you?” His tone was deep, measured. It rang like iron on stone.
Any other man might have stumbled at the general’s overall presence. Dimitrios didn’t have time for that. “Titos Demakis is coming for Perean.”
The general’s mouth twitched. “You don’t mince words, do you?”
He strode toward his desk and sat, his every move one of purpose. Calm authority. His face was clean-shaven, angular, and deeply lined from years of battle and duty. His eyes, however, were piercing and thoughtful. Alert.
Once Pateras had settled, he said, “I’m listening.”
Good. This would make going forward easier.
Dimitrios opened the leather pouch at his side and produced the Sotteran king’s missives to Leonidas. “Everything you need to know is here.” He dropped them on the desk. “Ideas, suggestions, orders, all from Titos Demakis.”
Pateras lifted the nearest fold of parchment. “To whom?”
“Leonidas Primakos.”
Surprise flashed across the general’s face and erased any doubt Dimitrios had coming into this meeting. There was no way of knowing who Leonidas had in his pocket, and Dimitrios couldn’t afford to go through every man in command of his military to weed them out.
He spent the next half hour describing the more important details within those letters and how he came to be in possession of them.
Pateras listened to every word without interruption until the very last truth was spilled. “After everything, to walk in here and tell me all of this…” The general shook his head. “I could be a traitor, and you a fool for revealing yourself.”
Nikolas had vouched for him. But there was something even more assuring. “You rode with my father, I hear.”
Pateras paused, then lowered his chin in a half nod. “I did. He was a good man.”
“I want to believe he was a good judge of character.”
