She crested the dune to see Samar’s camp below. There were one hundred men. A full company. A full company of special forces, selected specifically for this task. Per the shar’s plans, most would remain stationed at Bedmeg when it was time to enter the mountain. A smaller, stealthier force would then infiltrate the Soul Thieves’ domain. But for the time being, more men meant more security while traveling up, and eventually back down the icy slopes.
A number of slaves accompanied the soldiers to mind the animals who’d take them as far up the base of the mountain as they could before encamping somewhere along the knee where the livestock could still weather the climate. Desert travel required no shortage of things. Water was chief among them. Until they arrived in Dokiri territory, providing for themselves would be solely their responsibility. They would have it no other way. Nadine collapsed her lancet and returned it to her belt.
The smell of smoke and animals greeted her first. Everyone she passed immediately saluted her, including a young lieutenant as she approached. He introduced himself as Rushil Mannan, then directed her toward the last of the tents being disassembled. “He’s over there, Captain.”
Nadine found Samar helping roll up the canvas of one of the tents. As soon as he saw her, his expression darkened. He straightened and approached with a salute, recognizing her as his commanding officer for this mission. “Captain.”
“Report, Lanta.” Nadine’s voice rang sharp and clear. She stood tall with her feet apart.
Samar recounted, with his arms behind his back, the number of men present, their provisions, and their estimated time of arrival at their destination. Only after did he let his eyes drift down and back up her body, as if he’d expected her to come back missing an arm. Nadine’s fists clenched.
“And the Dokiri?” Nadine asked.
“With the exception of yours, we’ve not seen any.”
Nadine’s spine stiffened at the word yours.
Samar went on, “We can be ready to leave within the hour and meet them by tomorrow night.”
“A word, Lanta.” Nadine was careful, resolute in her effort to keep her voice even as she broke away from the milling bystanders to the area behind the last remaining tent. Nadine didn’t have to look back to know Samar was following. She whirled before she’d even stopped moving.
“My Dokiri?” She hissed through gritted teeth.
Samar swallowed, but his mouth flattened into a stubborn line. “A figure of speech.”
She took a bounding step toward him. “I figure you want to be more careful with your words, Lanta. We’re still very close to Ebron. It would pose no significant delay to exchange you for another second.”
Despite the very real threat in her words, Samar didn’t seem to have heard them. His eyes drifted upward and to the side. They narrowed.
Before Nadine could make out what he was looking at, Samar raked his fingers into the hair at her temple and uncovered the place where Magnus had slammed her head into the altar. Nadine batted his hand away.
Samar cursed. “Where is he?”
Nadine put on an exaggerated bark of laughter and was surprised to find that it came out genuine. “What are you going to do? Fight him?”
Samar was deadly in battle. Nadine knew that better than most. Even so, to pit him against Magnus the Vast?
He’d crush you.
“He can’t abuse you.”
Nadine cocked her head and frowned. “You’ve known me a long time, Lanta. Have I ever let someone abuse me?”
Samar considered her. “There’s a lot riding on this mission.”
“Which is why I chose to go.” They’d discussed this. She’d made her decision with full agency. As a patriot. As a woman given this one chance to use the Eye to uphold her family’s legacy. To fulfill a destiny worth surviving the horrors of her childhood. She would be no victim.
“Show me the mark.”
Nadine’s ears went hot, and clenched her jaw. Who had he been discussing Dokiri bonding rituals with? “Shuraa ket, Lanta. Can we be done with this chakva?”
He shrugged. “If it’s so insignificant, then show it to me.”
“I can handle him.”
He stared at her.
She could easily refuse him, and maybe she should. But it would prove nothing and imply any number of things, the greatest of which that she was afraid. That perhaps she didn’t have as much control over the situation as she claimed.
But if she showed him? Nadine didn’t care if he saw her breasts. He’d seen them a hundred times, both before and after she’d really had any. Even so, something about baring herself to him now felt different. So much more intimate. Her spine went straight. What? Was she taking what had happened with Magnus seriously? Was that how Samar would see it if she continued to hesitate?
Before she could think more on the matter, Nadine made a decision. She unsnapped the front of her tunic and pulled the fabric down. Not all the way, just enough to bare the tanshi mark. Samar peeled back the cloth covering, and Nadine was careful not to wince at the sting as dots of fresh blood beaded on her skin. He leaned in closer to squint at the round, eight-pronged shape that resembled a flake of snow. He muttered another curse beneath his breath. The air from it further stung her pinkened flesh. Nadine shivered.
A sudden, unwelcome thought invaded her mind. She felt exposed. And it wasn’t her breasts that were prickling. It was the tanshi mark itself, as though it were sacred somehow. Forbidden. What she and Magnus had shared just hours ago, while violent and filled with anger, had also been brimming with lust and temper that burned very close to passion. It had been intimate. Dark. To have Samar peer at her like this, under the scorching shine of Ebronian daylight felt wrong, somehow. And that wrongness made Nadine furious . . . with herself.
She was about to shove an open hand into Samar’s chest, pushing him away, when a roar broke them both out of their trance. Magnus was tearing across the sand like a charging bison ready to gore a mangy jackal who’d stalked too close to his herd.
Nadine’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped. For the first time in a long time, instinctual terror shot through her body at the sheer sight of this Dokiri titan prowling toward them. Before she could react, he barreled into an already-backing-up Samar.
The two men crashed into the side of the tent, taking the canvas to the ground with them. They disappeared as the heavy material collapsed over them, just before the support beams buckled and tumbled to the ground.
SMACK!
Nadine watched in wide-eyed horror. It seemed every man in the camp did the same, focused on the tangled pile of canvas where Samar and Magnus grappled.
“Raksa!” Magnus shouted in his language, and the words sounded like murder.
“Magnus!” Nadine screamed. Fury burned through her like fire.
The men tore through the canvas and rolled to the side. Samar got on top of Magnus first and sent a clenched fist toward his opponent’s face. Magnus dodged it, then bodily tossed Samar into the dirt. Before Samar could scramble back up, Magnus was lunging for him. He would have taken his opponent to the ground, except for the knife Samar pulled from a strap above his sandal. Magnus darted to the side, which allowed Samar to get to his feet. The two men squared off with each other, crouched in low battle stances.
Nadine reached for a throwing star at her belt and drew it back, ready to let it fly between the two men.