Except she wanted to serve. Just not like this.
“If our children don’t serve, very soon Bardeen will be the Empire,” Carina hissed, then twisted to catch hold of Silvara’s shoulders. “Your father and brother are in Hydrilla and they are starving. Do you mean to tell me that you’re getting cold feet because that boy took a few punches to spare your virtue?”
It has nothing to do with that! “I—” Silvara started to say, but Carina wasn’t through.
“He did it to impress you, you dumb girl! And not because he wants to court you and certainly not because he fancies taking a wife, but because he wants in your bed.” Carina’s lip curled up in disgust. “He’s a Cel legionnaire, and while he might use his pretty face and clever words to win you over rather than using force, he and Carmo want the exact same thing from you.”
Silvara cringed, knowing full well what men like Carmo were capable of. Everyone in camp did.
Seeing her reaction, Carina’s voice softened. “I know it’s hard, girl. But you have the chance to save our people. To be a hero to Bardeen and the rebel cause. Remember that and it will put steel in your heart.”
What she wanted was steel in her hand.
The wind chose that moment to blow, gusting the tent flaps open, and Agrippa stepped into the tent, backlit by the dawn light. “Agnes, but you are a sight for sore eyes!”
He stood alone, one eye swollen nearly shut and his lip split, his knuckles bruised and scabbed. And Silvara doubted that was the extent of his injuries.
“Not so pretty anymore,” Agnes said. “I’ll need to find new inspiration.”
“That,” he leveled a finger at the old woman, “really hurts. I thought we had a connection, Agnes, but apparently your feelings are so fleeting that you’ll cast me aside rather than endure a couple weeks of me not at my finest.”
Even with the bruises, he was easily one of the most attractive boys Silvara had ever laid eyes on, though she was loath to admit so about an Empire boy. Agnes had told her that the trio from the Thirty-Seventh had come out ahead in the brawl, and part of her wished she’d seen it.
An even larger part of her wished she could have done the fighting herself.
“I’m too old to wait on things,” Agnes said. “By the time your face heals, I might be dead.”
Agrippa twitched, his smile falling away. But only for a heartbeat, then he grinned. “An outlook on life we share. Now on another note…”
“You’re wanting your clothes?”
“Patrols would be rather chilly without and my men already grow weary of my complaints.”
A sharp pain in her ankle had Silvara looking sideways at Carina, who had kicked her, and the woman gave her a meaningful look. “I’ll get them,” she muttered, going to the laundry line. They wrote the men’s legion numbers in chalk on the garments, but she knew where they were because she’d hung them herself. Taking them down and then retrieving his cloak, which was folded on one of the shelves, she approached him.
You’re going into battle, even if you aren’t carrying a sword, she told herself. Show some courage.
Her heart hammered in her chest, her fingers cold though her cheeks flamed. Keeping her eyes fixed on the 37 on his breastplate, she handed his clothes to him, a shiver inexplicably running through her as their fingers brushed.
“Thank you.”
She managed a jerky nod, then rushed back to her washtub, blindly setting to work on the garments within.
Coward, she silently chided herself. Can’t even look a boy in the eye.
“Better put those on in here where it’s warm, lad,” Agnes said. “There’s a bitter wind today.”
“If you want me to take my clothes off, Agnes, you need only ask.”
“Hah!” was the old woman’s response, to which Agrippa laughed.
Silvara forced her eyes to remain on the water, but she could hear the click of metal as he pulled off his armor on the opposite side of the tent.
Don’t look.
She lifted her head.
He was in the process of pulling the woolen leggings the legionnaires wore over the muscular bottom that had been as much discussed as the brawl itself. Except that wasn’t where her eyes went but rather to the three livid lashes across his back.
He’d been whipped.
As if sensing her scrutiny, he turned his head, hazel eyes locking on hers. A flush rose to his cheeks and he swiftly bent to retrieve a tunic and pull it over his head. Donning the rest of his garments and armor with equal speed, he buckled his weapons and then stepped over to Agnes. “You do good work, lovely,” he said, handing her some coins. “And my apologies again for the trouble yesterday.” And without another word, he left the tent.
“Go!” Carina pushed on Silvara’s shoulders. “Talk to him.”
Given the speed of his departure, he’d obviously had his fill of her. But that meant she only needed to try harder. Lifting her skirts, Silvara hurried out of the tent, catching sight of his retreating form. “Agrippa!”
He stopped and turned, ignoring the comments of his men waiting beyond, who nearly all appeared tremendously amused except for one, who stared at her with cold, flat eyes. “Did I forget something?”
“No.” She slid to a stop in front of him, staring at his throat as her mind raced for words. Because he wasn’t a village boy who’d caught her eye, but her enemy. “I…I only wanted to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For intervening on my behalf.” Just saying the words made her angry, because she hadn’t wanted him to defend her. She’d wanted to defend herself. “Carmo has a…a bad reputation in this camp. And I know you were punished for fighting, and I wanted you to know that I feel awful for causing the conflict.”
“Oh, it had nothing to do with you.”
That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. “But…”
“Fighting over a girl is poor form but shaming a smelly unrepentant bastard like Carmo is worth a dozen lashes.”
His voice was serious, yet as Silvara lifted her face, it was to find his eyes glinting with humor. “You’re mocking me again.”
“Teasing, Silvara. And you keep falling for it.” He smiled, then winced and pressed fingers to his split lip. “I was keeping up a strong face to impress Agnes, but I’m in a world of pain.”
Guilt flooded her. “I’m truly sorry, I—” Then he started laughing and she squeezed her eyes shut, cheeks burning. “Are you ever serious?”
“I’m sure it’s happened once or twice.” His shoulders were shaking with mirth. “But it rarely gets me what I want.”
Carina’s words repeated in her head: He and Carmo want the exact same thing from you. “What do you want?”
“Agrippa!” one of the young men waiting shouted. “Let her kiss you and be done with it! We need to go!”
A hundred retorts rose to her lips, but all ran counter to her cause. And as it was, she didn’t have a chance to voice any of them because Agrippa took a quick step back, holding up a hand in mock defense. “Banish the thought from your mind, Silvara. I am a virtuous young man and I can’t be seen kissing girls in shadowy alleyways. It would ruin my reputation.”