Page 24 of The Infernal Battalion

Raesinia circled the table, feeling Marcus’ eyes on her. “I know. But it was... simpler when we were away from Ohnlei.”

“I suppose.” He looked uncomfortable. “Those were unsettled times. I think we were... confused.”

Raesinia fixed his gaze with her own. “What do you mean?”

“Just that... I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Forget it.”

“No. Be straight with me, Marcus. Have you changed your mind about what you said to me?”

“No! Of course not.” He looked away, cheeks burning under his beard. “I just meant that I wouldn’t hold you to any promises that you made in the heat of the moment. I understand that political realities can be difficult.”

“Marcus.”

When he wouldn’t look at her, she stepped closer and grabbed the front of his uniform. Surprised, he bent toward her, and she kissed him as thoroughly as she knew how. After a moment his arms came up, wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her close. Raesinia felt her heart beat faster as she was pressed against him, and she locked her hands together at the small of his back. His beard tickled her cheek.

“Believe me,” she whispered when he finally broke away for breath, “I intend to hold you to every word. I love you, Marcus. And as soon as this nuisance is dealt with, we’re going to figure out how to do something about it.” And to hell with what Mistress Lagovil and the rest think.

*

The Grand Army of Vordan—​henceforth to be called the Army of the Republic, according to a hastily promulgated proclamation from the Deputies—​unfolded itself from the camp north of Ohnlei with a ponderous slowness, like a bear ready for hibernation but prodded into action. It was still midautumn, the leaves gloriously red and gold on the trees, and the weather remained warm and clear. But there was a fragility to it that hadn’t been there at midsummer, a sense that the storms and frosts of winter might blow in at any moment.

Ironic, Raesinia thought, given what happened to us over the summer. This time, she hoped, there would be no Penitent Damned putting their fingers on the scale.

The columns were supposed to have started moving at dawn, but it was past noon before the vanguard was finally on the road, Give-Em-Hell’s light cavalry riding in neat squadrons in front of the long, thin column of plodding musketeers. At intervals came the battalion flags, the silver eagle of Vordan on a blue field snapping in the breeze. Cannon rumbled by, teams of horses harnessed to the covered ammunition carts called caissons with the guns themselves, pointing backward and down, attached to the rear by their trails. More carts, carrying the tents, baggage, and other supplies, came down the road in a dense mass, protected by long lines of heavy cavalry riding beside them.

Raesinia had witnessed quite a few such departures. This was far from the worst showing a Vordanai army had made, although she had to admit Janus’ Grand Army had been prettier as it had left for the north. Many of these battalions had been filled out with fresh recruits, some of whom still lacked proper uniforms, and sergeants screamed at them where their lack of marching practice was obvious. Here and there, the line contracted to a tight knot until an officer hurried along to sort out the disturbance.

It’s always like this, Raesinia thought, trying to suppress a flutter of nerves. Traffic jams and mix-​ups were par for the course when armies were on the march—​after bearing witness to what Marcus had to do to keep roughly on schedule in Murnsk, she was amazed they ever got anywhere at all. Still, she couldn’t help but think in terms of omens.

Enough. She turned away from the scene and back toward the little cluster of people behind her. They were on a grassy hilltop, overlooking the line of march. Besides Eric and the two guards, there was a small crowd of Deputies, city notables, a few curious nobles, and foreign dignitaries assembled. Raesinia spotted Duke Dorsay and headed in his direction.

“Your Highness,” he said with a modest bow.

“We need to talk.”

He looked over his shoulder as the crowd began to break up into smaller knots of conversation; then he shrugged and started walking away from the others. Raesinia fell in beside him.

“I suspect I know what you want to talk about,” Dorsay said. “But I’m very much afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

“I’m not going to beat around the bush,” Raesinia said. “You and I managed to keep Vordan and Borel from each other’s throats. Surely it’s in your interests to help us now. If Janus takes over, it will mean war with you sooner or later.”

“No one doubts that,” Dorsay said. “And you know you have my personal sympathies. But it’s more complicated than that.” He sighed. “We received a packet from our government this morning.”

“That’s quick work.” The speed of the Borelgai packet ships was proverbial, but even so. “Are you certain they had all the information?”

“Enough for preliminary instructions. All work on the treaty is to be suspended, for now.”

Damn. She’d expected that, but she’d been hoping the Borels wouldn’t act quite so soon. “So we’re just going to be left hanging?”

“I imagine they expect you to communicate your needs to the ambassador, so that whatever assistance is required can be a part of the negotiations when they resume.”

“You think you have us over a barrel, so you’re going to wring out more concessions, in other words.”

“Not me, Your Highness.” Dorsay looked genuinely unhappy. “My position here has been brought to an end. I will be returning to Viadre on the first available ship.”

“What happened to Georg and his desire for peace?”

“We may not have a Deputies-​General, but neither is Georg an absolute despot.” Dorsay sighed. “I can only assume there has been a realignment at home. I’ll know more once I arrive.” The duke kicked at a tuft of browning grass. “Assuming I’m permitted to remain at court. They may pack me off to the country again, which I have to say would suit me well enough. I’m too old for this nonsense.”