“Bastard,” Magnus growled. “Those are mine.”
The barbarian’s words made Nadine freeze. Her breasts were still half-exposed. She lowered the star and hurried to cover them, though from the looks of it, none of the men gave a damn about their commanding officer’s tits. The jeering crowd had formed a circle around Samar and Magnus, the Dokiri savage versus Ebronian warrior. Excitement and hostility thrummed through them, charging the two combatants with more fury. Nadine finished snapping up the front of her shirt.
“Enough!” She shouted at the crowd as much as the two men. She strode forward between them, yet turned the brunt of her attention upon Samar.
He was panting and covered in dust. He stared at Magnus with open hatred, intensified by the trickle of blood running into his left eye.
Nadine shoved her palm into his shoulder. “Go to your lieutenant. Clean yourself up, Lanta. And then make sure we’re moving toward that mountain before I find you next.”
A moment passed.
Two.
Three.
Samar’s gaze slid to hers. His breathing slowed enough for him to swallow, and he gritted his white teeth. His gaze inched back toward Magnus who stood behind Nadine. “Yes, Captain.”
If Samar had waited one moment longer to comply, he’d have been marching back to Lapour instead of carrying out her orders.
Samar turned away, and the gawkers dispersed as he left. Nadine’s relief at the diffused situation lasted only a whisper of a moment before fury overtook her once more. She whirled on the savage.
Where Samar had a bloodied eye, Magnus looked merely disheveled, with his wild hair rumpled, torn clothing, and rapid puffs of his chest. Like a great raptor with ruffled feathers. The crumpled tent was as much to blame for his appearance as her childhood friend’s valiant attempt at defending her honor. She expected to see contrition on the barbarian’s face for the scene he’d caused. Or, at the very least, some trace of sheepishness. She could not have been more wrong. Magnus looked as though he were ready to fight her next.
Nadine’s hand itched for her lancet. “Don’t tempt me, barbarian.”
“What on Helig’s green earth was that?” Magnus pointed toward Samar.
Nadine narrowed her eyes. “You tell me. You came charging into this camp and took out my second like an animal. Screaming. Calling me yours. Are you crazy?”
“He touched you.”
“So what? It means nothing to you.”
Magnus stumbled back, as if her words were so ridiculous they’d physically shocked him. “Nothing? I claimed you last night, woman.”
Nadine shook her head and gave an exaggerated shrug. “So? You yourself said you have to win me, right? Did you think a night humming to me from across a campfire was enough to win my undying devotion to you?”
Magnus lowered his head to one of his hands and rubbed his temples between his thumb and forefinger. She’d never seen him so frustrated. Her head tipped back. Why wasn’t she angrier? Why wasn’t she taking off his head even now?
Because this is exactly what I expected from him.
This was why she’d been so resistant to bending to his ridiculous ritual in the first place. Because the barbarian was bound to do something reckless. A curious sense of relief made her sigh. The world was in perfect, miserable order.
Magnus grunted. “Just because you haven’t chosen me yet, doesn’t mean you’re not mine, woman. I have a year to keep you. And I will keep you, make no mistake.” He jutted a finger in the direction Samar had gone. “I’ll be damned if I let any of those sorry asses put their hands on you, or their eyes, or any other part for that matter.”
Nadine crossed her arms and leaned back on one heel. “Oh?”
Magnus’s voice darkened. “Don’t test me on this, kandiri. We’ll both end up sorry for it.”
Nadine considered him. “So I suppose all that talk yesterday was just chakva then.”
“What do you mean?”
“That I’m not your property. Just another thing to own. That this mark”—she pointed to her chest—“isn’t a brand.”
“It’s not.”
“Yesterday you proved to me that you are lustful. Today I see that you are possessive. But loyal?” Nadine shook her head at him “You’re a liar, savage. I’ll still call you a dog. But know that I think of you as a stray.”
She turned to go, but his words made her pause.
“You’re wrong.”
If only.
She left him standing there. When she found Samar again, he was just finishing the final departure count. One hundred fighting men, twenty slaves, camels, donkeys, a pair of messenger hawks.
He turned when he saw Nadine approaching. He’d washed his face and some of the rage of battle had dissipated, but he was still angry. He swallowed and indicated with a thick sigh that he was willing to submit. When they were on the move toward the mountain, Samar bumped the back of his wrist into Nadine’s arm.
“Don’t worry, if this mountain is as dangerous as they say, you’ll likely be a widow soon.”
Nadine offered him a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. It seemed unlikely that the mountain or any dangers lurking within would be the death of Magnus the Vast. Either she’d have that honor, or he’d slaughter her himself before she got the chance.
As they crested the top of another dune, Nadine muttered quietly so that only Samar could hear, “There’s something I need to tell you, Lanta. Privately.”
8
Uphill Struggle
“Pitch tents close to each other in a tight circle,” Erik said. “Always keep ten men on watch. Those on watch don’t move. No pacing. No shuffling. It might attract attention.”
Magnus stood up on a mound of rubble with his brother, who faced the Ebronian company. Erik was just finishing a lecture on how the Ebronians were to set up camp now they were approaching the frozen parts of the land. Though Samar had called for Erik’s opinion, the Ebronian man didn’t seem inspired by his guide’s warnings.
The company was on the knee of the mountain now. They’d swapped dry sand for gray sheets of rock that soaked up the setting sunlight, hoarding its warmth. Most of the livestock had been left behind the day prior, no longer able to withstand the declining temperatures nor trek the rising slopes. Now the Ebronians would be largely dependent upon the Dokiri supply chain until this mission was over and they could return to their encamped provisions. All that remained were a string of donkeys. They carried the clothes the Ebronians were exchanging for their sandals and cotton tunics. Magnus sighed with distaste at the fine wools and furs they’d brought along. It was apparent they’d been made by craftsmen with no shortage of money but with a grand misunderstanding of what life on a mountaintop was like.
“Those hats won’t work,” Magnus said. He jutted his chin in the direction of a pair of soldiers who were donning the white fluffy caps they’d brought along with their new winter uniforms. The men paused at his words, then shot uncertain glances at Samar, who held one of the caps in his hand.
Samar fixed Magnus with an enduring look. “Oh? Come, tell us why not, barbarian.”