Page 166 of The Infernal Battalion

Her disguise. Winter looked down at herself. She’d had the chance to wash all her clothes aboard ship, though they were still heavily patched and motley. Her traveling outfit wasn’t particularly feminine, trousers and a loose shirt, but neither was it intended to conceal, like her tailored uniforms. Even her hair had grown out, almost to her shoulders.

“No,” she said. Something inside her twisted. “I don’t think so.”

*

Winter sat in one of the palace’s innumerable parlors, in a wingback chair beside a roaring fire that dispelled the late-​autumn chill. Servants had brought a glass of wine—​rather good wine—​and a tray of fruit and cheese. She waited, tense as a cat, until she heard booted footsteps outside the door.

Marcus came in, brushing flecks of mud from the sleeves of his uniform coat. He’d aged visibly since Winter had last seen him, the dark circles under his eyes hardening into permanent fixtures, the hair at his temples and in his beard flecked with gray. He also seemed, in some indefinable way, smaller. In her memory, especially from back in Khandar, he loomed as enormous and solid as a mountain. This was just a man, a decade or so older than her and half a head taller, weary after a long day and short of sleep.

She wondered what he saw, looking at her. It took him a moment, and then his eyes widened. He closed the door behind him carefully.

“General Ihernglass,” he said. “By God it’s good to see you again.”

“You as well, General d’Ivoire,” Winter said. “You’ve talked to the queen?”

“She filled me in,” Marcus said, crossing the room. “Though I have some questions for you about the Beast. I take it you’ve seen it in action.”

“More than enough for one lifetime,” Winter said. “But I need to talk to you about something else first.”

“Something else?” Marcus frowned.

“It’s...” She took a deep breath. “Go ahead and sit down. It may take a few minutes.”

Marcus looked at her curiously, but took the other seat, stretching out to put his boots near the fire. Winter leaned across to pass him the second glass of wine, which he accepted gratefully.

“I see you’re in your... female disguise again,” he said, after a sip. “Good thinking. If Janus and the Beast are looking for General Ihernglass, they’re hardly going to question a ragged girl.”

Winter set her jaw. Marcus had seen her without her disguise once before, when she was working with Jane’s Leatherbacks, and he’d had the same response then. Sothe was right. He truly doesn’t want to see.

“First of all,” she said carefully, “let’s get that out of the way. This is not a disguise, Marcus.”

“I mean...” He waved his hands vaguely. “It’s not as obvious as last time, but—”

“I mean it is not a disguise at all,” Winter said. “I am a woman.”

“You...” Marcus blinked. “You’re...”

“Please don’t make me pull up my shirt and demonstrate,” Winter said.

“That, uh, won’t be necessary,” Marcus said hastily. He stared at her. “You’re... I mean... since Khandar?”

“Since I was born, as far as I know,” Winter said.

“How? How did you...?”

“Do you really want to know?”

He thought about that for a moment. “No,” he said. “Not really. But why?”

“Because you would have thrown me out of the army if I hadn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have...” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have thrown you out. I would have made certain you were taken care of.”

“I’m sure you would have, but that’s not the point.”

“Why join the army at all?” Marcus said. “Why would a girl...? I mean, why would you want that?”

“You’ve been commanding the Girls’ Own, I understand,” Winter said. “Ask them.”