Page 9 of The Infernal Battalion

“Aside from the throne? The mob still considers him a hero, and the soldiers worship him. If he walked in here tomorrow, could we stop him?”

“We could stop him,” Marcus said, more confidently than he felt. “And why would he call himself Emperor of Murnsk as well?”

“Cesha Dzurk has obviously thrown in his lot with Janus. Maybe he’s popular enough to make that stick.” Raesinia tapped the note. “It seems to be working so far.”

Marcus sat down. They were in Raesinia’s private apartments, not yet restored to the lavishness of the prerevolution royal chambers but still comfortably furnished. The crushed-velvet sofa was absurdly soft and enveloping, but he hardly noticed. Raesinia stood by the table. Her expression was the forced calm she wore when she would rather be screaming.

“I still don’t believe it,” Marcus said. “Janus doesn’t want the throne. He told me himself.”

“Maybe he used you like he uses everyone else,” Raesinia said. “Or maybe his plans have changed.”

“Or maybe something’s happened to him.” Marcus bounced to his feet again. “Last we saw him, he was on his way back to Mieran County. Maybe someone got to him, and now he’s got a gun to his head. Hell, Orlanko could be using him to try to get to you—”

“Do you really think Janus would do this for Orlanko, even with a gun to his head?”

“Either way, we need to know for certain,” Marcus said. “I’ll leave tonight. If I use the courier posts, I can be in Talbonn—”

“No.”

There was enough emotion in the word that it brought Marcus up short. He turned back to look at Raesinia, and found that her calm had cracked. Her eyes were shimmering.

“Marcus, please,” she said. “You have to think.”

“Think about what? If Janus is a captive—”

“You don’t know he’s a captive. What happens if you get there and he’s sincere?”

“Then I’ll try to talk some sense into him.” But Marcus’ conviction was already fading.

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then I’d...” He shook his head. “I’d come back here, of course. I made my choice, Raes. You know that.”

She took a deep breath, blew it out, and nodded. “I know. But what about everyone else?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Janus declares himself emperor. As soon as the news breaks, Marcus d’Ivoire, Janus’ closest ally and right-​hand man, immediately decamps to go to his old friend’s side. Surely you see how that’s going to look?”

“Ah.” Marcus had the distinct feeling of an unexpected pit opening beneath his feet. All the strength seemed to go out of him, and he sat back down abruptly. “Oh. I...”

“I know this is hard,” Raesinia said. “He’s your friend.”

“It’s more than that,” Marcus said. “He’s... Janus.” He paused, then looked up at Raesinia. “You don’t trust me.”

“I do.” She grabbed his hand in both of hers. “Please, Marcus. Believe that if you believe nothing else. I have always trusted you with my life, and I always will.”

He squeezed her fingers, tentatively, and she squeezed back. Marcus swallowed.

“Sorry. I’m just... a little off-​balance.”

“I know,” Raesinia said. “Shove over.”

Marcus obligingly slid sideways, and Raesinia sat down next to him. She bent her head, looking at her hands.

“The thing is,” she said, “it’s not my trust you need to worry about. The Deputies-​General is going to suspect you on principle, along with anyone else who worked closely with Janus. You can’t do anything that would give them ammunition.”

“Right.” Marcus’ hand clenched tight around his knee. Raesinia was next to him, distractingly close, practically leaning against him. “So what are we going to do?”