Page 182 of The Infernal Battalion

“Why not?”

Sothe sighed. “Because he will convince himself my decision revolves around him and the debt between us. He will think he should have... protected me.” She pronounced the word with distaste. “He is a good man, and he will do well by Raesinia’s side. But some habits of mind are hard to break.”

“I understand,” Winter said.

“He is not angry with you, you know. Just working things out in his own mind. I meant what I said about giving him time.”

“I know.” Winter looked down at the papers. “To be perfectly honest, I’m still working it out myself.”

When she looked up again, the slim shape of the assassin was gone.

*

As Marcus’ assistant, Cyte had quarters in the palace proper, but the majority of the soldiers were camped a few minutes’ ride to the north, where some of Ohnlei’s lawns had been converted into a mustering ground during the revolution. Neat lines of weather-​worn blue tents alternated with clear avenues, and in between regiments larger spaces had been left for drills and assembly. Muskets were stacked beside each tent, and jackets, shirts, and trousers dried in the breeze as the soldiers took the rare opportunity to launder their uniforms. At the intersections, big campfires blazed, heating the copper pots used to make the ubiquitous army soup. It was late afternoon, the golden light of the setting sun gleaming off buckles and bayonets. The soldiers sat in front of their tents, waiting for dinner, playing dice or cards or just telling tall tales in the oldest traditions of the army.

It was all so familiar that it brought an unexpected lump to Winter’s throat. This was home, if anything was. A strange, transient kind of place, constructed every day and torn down every morning, lugged across the landscape in wagons and backpacks.

The sentries were the first to recognize her, snapping stiff salutes at the sight of her uniform, then drawing themselves up even further as they saw her face. She left her borrowed horse with a corporal, a young woman who looked like she was about to burst with pride. As Winter walked down the aisles of tents, she could almost feel the rumors running ahead of her, spreading with the lightning speed of gossip. Women in blue uniforms soon lined her path, coming to attention as she came abreast of them, a wave of salutes that seemed to go on forever.

The lump in Winter’s throat got thicker. She felt like she should stop, say something, acknowledge the pride and relief she felt from every quarter. But what the hell can I say to them? She didn’t trust her voice, in any event, so she merely nodded, and from the looks on the faces of the rankers, that seemed to be enough. After she passed, she could hear the storm of quiet chatter that followed in her wake.

The command tent was just where she remembered it, as though the camp had remained still while the world moved underneath it. Two guards came to stiff attention, and Winter stepped between them and scratched at the flap. At the barked acknowledgment, she ducked inside.

Abby sat at the map table, scowling at a sprawl of papers. At the sight of Winter she came to her feet, her salute precise. Winter waved it away.

“Started hearing rumors you were back,” Abby said. She looked older than when Winter had last seen her, her freckled face pale and drawn. “It’s good to see you, sir.”

“You, too,” Winter said. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Winter was always a little uncertain around Abby. The girl had been Jane’s lover after Winter had run off to Khandar, and though Jane had returned to Winter’s bed when she’d come back, there had always been tension between them. Then Jane had betrayed them both, and neither Winter nor Abby had taken it well.

“Will you be assuming command?” Abby said. “I’ve been running the Second Division since Marcus took overall command, but I’m sure the soldiers would be happy to have you back.” She gestured at the papers. “God knows I’d be happy to have someone to push this off on to.”

“No,” Winter said. “That’s what I came to talk to you about.”

“I should have known I wouldn’t get off that easily.” Abby gestured at the chair across from her. “Sit, if you like.”

Winter cleared a stained tin plate out of the way and sat down. “There’s an... assignment,” she said carefully. “Something I need to do. It’s important.”

“Yours always are, sir,” Abby said.

“I won’t be back until after the battle,” Winter said. “Assuming I make it back at all, of course. And—”

Abby sat back in her chair. “You’ve been talking with Marcus.”

“I’ve been talking with Cyte,” Winter said. “She’s worried about you.”

“And you’re wondering whether you can trust me with the Second.”

Winter closed her eyes for a moment. “When I left the division, in Murnsk, I would have trusted you in a heartbeat. I need to know if anything has changed.”

“A lot of good men and women are dead,” Abby said. “And Parker Erdine, too, I suppose. Does that count as a change?”

“You know what I mean.”

Abby’s freckled face colored slightly. “What do you want me to say? That it hasn’t affected me? You know that’s not true. We fought our way back from Murnsk, and then after Alves...” She shook her head. “Sometimes it feels like not going mad takes everything I have.”

“I know,” Winter said. “Believe me, I understand.”