Footsteps made Nadine turn just in time to see Priya hurrying from a narrow corridor. As soon as their eyes met, her former lieutenant stopped dead in her tracks. The smaller woman blinked rapidly.
“You have sand in your eyes, Lieutenant?” Nadine asked in a flat tone before letting the corners of her mouth curl into a smile.
“Shuraa ket. You’re here.”
Nadine’s smile faltered. She took a few steps forward. “Where should I be?”
Priya shook her head as though breaking from a trance and hurried over to wrap her arms around Nadine’s neck. “Dead? Or lost? In prison for all I know. Damn, Nadine!”
Nadine winced, but patted her friend on the back. Had things changed so quickly? Priya had never hugged her before. But then, Priya had only ever known her as a commanding officer. “The Mushar isn’t quick to announce his failures to the world. Though surely the blame rests solely on my shoulders.”
Priya straightened, breaking them apart. “What happened?”
Nadine shrugged and stepped out of her friend’s embrace. “Not nearly enough.”
“We were told no one survived.”
Nadine grimaced. “That’s close enough to the truth.”
Priya’s mouth parted. “Samar?”
Nadine’s gaze hardened. “Dead.”
Torn limb from limb by a vengeful horde king. Azolirum’s filed-down grin flashed in her mind’s eye as she remembered his casual claim that Samar had “died of his wounds.” Wounds that had been conspicuously absent when Nadine saw him last.
“I’m so sorry, Captain.” Priya’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.
“Don’t waste your sympathy.”
Priya looked baffled at that. Her chin wrinkled up, and her brows drew together.
Nadine’s stomach tightened at the thought of having to explain herself. She wouldn’t. Least of all about that man. “I didn’t come here to discuss my rumors, but to confirm one of yours.”
Priya dipped her chin, and her gaze fell to her own fidgeting fingers. “Well, you’re here. So you already know it’s true.”
Nadine nodded even though Priya wasn’t looking at her. “Do you love him?”
Priya’s eyes found hers so quickly, Nadine had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to keep from reacting. “That’s the last question I would’ve thought someone like you would ask.”
“Yet, it’s the only one that really matters. Is it not?”
Priya’s gaze flew to hers. Slowly, she nodded. “Yes. I love him.”
Nadine sighed. Relief eased the tension in her jaw. She fumbled with the edge of the package she still held. “And you have no regrets?”
Priya gave a far more decisive shake of her head. “None.”
Nadine swallowed and shrugged one shoulder. “Then I’m happy for you.”
“You?” Priya scoffed defensively. No doubt she’d never expected this meeting. Had never imagined Nadine Pajel would come here to offer well-wishes and gratitude for her friend’s happiness. The old Nadine never would have. The old Nadine could never have taken Priya at her word.
“Here.” Nadine thrust the package forward, bumping it into Priya’s chest.
Priya took the little box and raised a brow at Nadine. “What is it?”
Nadine grunted.
Priya untied the paper and slid open the lid of the wooden box. The younger woman’s lips parted on a little gasp. She fished the object out. It was a golden armlet made by a master’s hand. It was tradition among the nobility that matrons add a jewel to the engraved spiral for each child born. Years later, a blown-glass bead for each grandchild. Ivory for great grandchildren. The gift had cost Nadine nearly all her money—not that it mattered. She was out of uses for Ebronian gold.
Priya’s gaze snapped to Nadine. “You can’t mean to give me this.”
Nadine pursed her lips. “I did put it in your hands.”
“But it’s so much money!”
“Don’t be rude, Lieutenant.”
Priya fingered the golden piece, clutching it to her chest as though it were the finest thing she’d ever received. Nadine shifted awkwardly and glanced around the room. “Well, if I don’t see you again in this life, know that I would’ve fought by your side until we fell. And I would’ve been glad for the honor in it.”
Priya nodded at Nadine but said nothing, her expression bewildered. To break up the awkwardness, Nadine scoffed at Priya before turning to leave. “And if that little man of yours ever makes you miss the army, don’t say no one ever tried to talk you out of it.”
She was almost to the door when Priya’s incredulous voice called after her. “What happened to you?”
Nadine hesitated with one hand on the exit. “Not ‘what,’ Lieutenant. ‘Who.’ ”
Magnus made his way out of the boardinghouse, onto streets already emptying for evening. He sighed through the weariness weighing on his heart like a mountain. He’d left Lydia behind. Beyond the door, she sat before the fire, a crying child in her arms.
Magnus had told her the truth of her hatu. She’d stood there, a balled fist over her heart, upon the tanshi mark Arvid had given her the day they’d met. The one she’d added to when she’d claimed him in turn. Gritu. She hadn’t wept or collapsed into Magnus’s arms for comfort. She’d stood straight-legged as he begged her forgiveness. Lydia had been quiet for a long while before at last moving to take one of his hands in her shaking one.
“Thank you, Magnus. Thank you for saving him.”
Now she was in her house upon one knee as she explained to their son that he would never see his father again. One more widow for the ranks. Two more orphaned sons, one of them not even born. Magnus shook with the effort to swallow. For a moment he simply leaned against the outer wall of the boarding house and watched the waning foot traffic as it passed. He shoved his head upon the stone and squeezed his eyes against the heat of tears.
He would never see his friend again. And neither would they. Magnus hadn’t saved Arvid from death. But he’d spared him an afterlife of enthrallment. Was it enough? Enough for the man he’d called brother?
The sun was fast setting, and twilight was already upon him when the street went almost completely silent. He’d known Lapour to be a sleepless city. He’d known this particular street to have an ever-present clambering even into the late hours of the night. He’d watched it. Stood guard upon the roofs of the houses as he staved off his own nightmares. But tonight? Tonight it was quiet.
He glanced up to see who was on watch. A darkened shadow moved across the rooftop. Magnus squinted only a little before recognizing Ragnar. A trained and dedicated rider watched over the families of this quarter tonight. At another time, an earlier time, it wouldn’t have been enough for Magnus.
But tonight?
Magnus sighed and forced his fists to ease open. He took a step away from the house. He took a few more. His pace was slow at first, but it picked up the further he went and, like lumber rolling off the side of a skid, his heart grew lighter with every step. Soon he was down the street. Magnus turned and made his way to the edge of the city.
When he was at the northern gates, he could breathe again. Magnus faced the distant mountains, so far, even his Dokiri eyes had trouble making out the finer details. But they were there. The culmination of his hopes and fears. His home and his clan’s ultimate fate.