“I think your obnoxious questions are meant to relieve your own guilt.”
Priya frowned. “How do you figure?”
“Are you still considering marrying that little kitten, Ramin?”
Defensiveness replaced Priya’s mocking amusement. “I haven’t ruled it out.”
“What? You want to leave all this”—Nadine swept a hand across the hall, stopping in the direction of two men who were gobbling down the gruel about as gracefully as pigs—“behind?”
Priya’s mouth quirked. “Oh, because you love it so much?”
Priya knew Nadine didn’t. Life in the barracks was hot and hard, and not in an erotic sense. Especially for a woman, who had to constantly defend herself or a friend and prove her worth. She must work twice as hard as any man only to receive half the esteem for her effort.
The pace was brutal and the pay was meager. Even worse, it reflected what her efforts were worth to the Empire. Five starlings a month in return for complete and absolute devotion, even unto death.
Nadine gave her second a look of half concession. “It’s not the best life, but for women like us, it’s the best we can hope for.”
It was better than a life lived at the whim of a single man, a husband or a father, whose ego could be as fragile as his temper. Better to be accountable to the hierarchy of the military with all its checks and balances. Nadine’s own commanding officer was a woman. And though the woman was a more hellish bitch than the other jemadars Nadine was acquainted with, at least she’d never dismissed Nadine’s contributions with a slithering look of lust.
Nadine gave a decisive nod. “It’s enough.”
Priya pressed her tongue into her cheek. “I wish I had as much conviction as you. It would save me a lot of trouble.”
Priya shouldn’t wish for Nadine’s level of conviction. Nadine knew what she did because life had beaten the lesson into her, one merciless blow at a time. The two slowed as they approached the barracks’ entry. The street bustled with military and civilian shoppers hurrying toward market.
“Take it from me,” Nadine said. “This life may be rough, but at least you know exactly what you’re getting. A woman could do far worse.”
Her lieutenant’s eyes wandered away as they often did when she was growing uncomfortable with this fantasy they occasionally indulged in—the one where Priya was her confidant rather than her subordinate. Nadine’s chest tightened at the coming loss of friendship between them. What would she do if she returned only to find the young woman had retired to warm the bed of a magistrate’s son?
Nadine bumped a light fist into Priya’s shoulder. “Do yourself a favor and don’t make any decisions until my return.” She cracked a smile. “I’d hate to make you a widow.”
Priya smiled, too. “Somehow I doubt you’d lose much sleep.”
“She who sleeps alone, sleeps the soundest.” And as far as Nadine was concerned, she would never put that colloquialism to the test.
“And great tasks require many hands,” Priya shot back. “You’re going to miss having mine at your back.”
“No doubt.” Nadine reached into her bag and pulled out a burlap sack. She handed it to Priya. “Give this to the women when they’ve done something to earn it.”
Priya loosened the string at the neck of the bag. Her eyes widened at the sight. “Sugared dates. These must have cost you your left hand.”
Actually they were sugared grapes, and they had cost her her right hand, but the women didn’t need to know that. How strange it was, that someone born as rich as she had to save for months to afford a common indulgence among the nobility. Such was the fate she’d chosen. The fate of a woman who’d traded breeding for fighting. Her family’s gold could melt in the sun.
“Tell them I’ll make a supplication to Yudvir every day on their behalf.” The Ebronian god of battle was their patron, a symbol of hope for those whose lives were forged and constantly tempered on the anvil of war.
Priya lowered the bag, gratitude and something else lighting her eyes. “Don’t get yourself killed chasing after glory.”
Nadine pursed her lips. “I could think of a hundred worse ways to die.”
Priya shrugged. “But if you do, the jemadar will probably promote Meera in your place.”
Meera. That shrew was a slathering hound pawing for the chance to bury Nadine in the sand. Nadine plastered on a look of mock horror, and the two women laughed. “You’re right. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
The smile faded from Priya’s face. “We need you, Nadine.”
Nadine looked her lieutenant up and down, then slapped a hand on her narrow shoulder. “The only person you need in this life is yourself, Lieutenant. Don’t look to me for strength and, by Yudvir, don’t look to that shifty little man you’ve got your mind stuck on. You are the only one you can count on in life. The only one you really need.”
Disappointment flashed in Priya’s eyes. Nadine shrunk back.
“Yes, Captain.”
Her hand slid from Priya’s shoulder. Would the woman take her advice? Nadine hoisted her sack over her shoulder and strode through the door. She tossed her lieutenant one last look, then saluted her with an outward slash of her open palm.
Priya straightened and returned the salute.
Nadine started down the street, darting in and out through the crowd. Her own words to her lieutenant played through her mind, that she was the only one she could rely on. She felt that truth deep in her bones. But Priya had been right about one thing: bigger causes required more hands. She thought of Magnus’s hands as he’d held her against the wall and pressed his heat against her. A swell of lust quickened the beat of her heart. She rolled her eyes.
More hands. Not bigger.
As far as Nadine was concerned, there was only one set of hands in this world, besides her own, that she could trust. She turned her feet in the direction of her only true friend. Samar Lanta.
3
Lost Brother
“Are you going to save Father?”
Magnus’s gaze crept up from the face of Lachlan, the little boy who looked so much like Arvid, to the frowning face of his mother just behind. Lydia shook her head in silent warning. Magnus stifled a grimace in favor of a winning grin for his best friend’s son.
A pot of stew bubbled over the hearth fire of the tiny stone apartment, one of many the Dokiri had been provided by their Ebronian hosts until the Soul Thieves had been defeated. Lydia had done her best to make it feel like home. The cracks in the reed shutters splintered the illusion. The intrusive sun would never let them forget they were outside the shelter of Bedmeg’s ancient caves.
“I have no idea, kandiri.” He used the Dokiri endearment for little one. “First I have to find him.” Magnus ruffled the boy’s dark curls. “If I do, I’ll tell him how tall his son’s grown in just a couple of short months.” They’d been the longest months of Magnus’s life.
Lachlan pursed his lips. “Not as tall as you.”
Magnus winked. “No one’s as tall as me.”
The boy’s eyes lit with shared amusement as he threw Magnus’s palm off his head. “You’ll be back soon?”