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“No,” I say to Novas. “My family would shame me. I would be nothing to them if I joined you. No. I’m sorry.” I smile inside. “We have enough food to march through your lands. If you let us, we will brook no—”
He slaps me across the face.
“You are a Pixie,” he says. “Stiffen your quivering lip. You embarrass your Color.” He leans toward me over his saddle pommel. “You are caught between giants, and you will be crushed. But make a man of yourself before we come for you. I do not fight children.”
It is then that Mustang throws a snowball at his head; naturally, her aim is true and her laugh is loud.
Novas does not react. All that moves is his horse beneath him as it wheels to take him back to his roving warband. I watch the man go, and feel disquiet seep into me.
“Ride on home, little archer!” Tactus calls out. “Ride home to your mommy!”
Novas rejoins his thirty heavy horse. Our only cavalry is our scouts. They cannot stand against ionBlades and ionLances at full tilt, even with the deep snowbanks to muddle the heavier horses. Our weapons are still durosteel. Armor no better than duroplate or wolfskin. I don’t even wear armor. I don’t plan on fighting a battle where I need to for a while. We’ve not had a bounty after capturing Ceres’s fortress and their standard. The Proctors have forsaken me, but the weather has not. Normally, infantry falls like dry wheat to cavalry, but the snow and its treacherous depths protect us.
We camp on the western bank of the river that night, nearer the mountains, away from the open plains in front of the dark Greatwoods. Apollo’s heavy cavalry now has to cross the frozen river in the darkness if they want to raid our camp as we sleep. I knew they’d try when they thought us weak, ripe for the taking. They fail miserably. Arrogants. As dusk settled, I had Pax and his strongmen take axes out to soften the thick ice of the river bordering our camp. We hear horse screams and plunging bodies in the night. MedBots whine down to save lives. Those boys and girls are out of the game.
We continue south, aiming for where my scouts guess Apollo’s castle lies. At night we eat well. Soups are made from the meat and bones o
f animals my scouts bring back. Bread is kept stored in makeshift packs. It is the food that keeps my army content. As the great Corsican once said, “An army marches on its stomach.” Then again, he didn’t fare so well in the winter.
Mustang walks beside me as I lead the column. Though she’s swaddled with wolfcloaks as thick as my own, she hardly comes up to my shoulder. And when we walk through deep snow, it’s almost a laugh to see her try to keep apace with me. But if I slow, I earn a scowl. Her braid bounces as she keeps up. When we reach easier ground, she glances over at me. Her pert nose is red as a cherry in the cold, but her eyes look like hot honey.
“You haven’t been sleeping well,” she says.
“When do I ever?”
“When you slept next to me. You cried out the first week in the woods. After that, you slept like a little baby.”
“Is this you inviting me back?” I ask.
“I never told you to leave.” She waits. “So why did you?”
“You distract me,” I say.
She laughs lightly before drifting back to walk beside Pax. I’m left confused both by my response and by her words. I never thought she’d care one way or the other if I left. A stupid smile spreads on my face. Tactus catches it.
“Smitten as a lovebird,” he hums.
I hurl a handful of snow at his head. “Not a word more.”
“But I need another word, a serious word.” He steps closer, takes a deep breath. “Does the pain in your back give you a hard-on like it gives me?” He laughs.
“Are you ever serious?”
His sharp eyes sparkle. “Oh, you don’t want me serious.”
“How about obedient?”
He claps his hands together. “Well, you know I’m not prime fond of the idea of a leash.”
“Do you see a leash?” I ask, pointing to his forehead, where his slave mark could be.
“And since you know I don’t need a leash, it may do to tell me where we are bound. I would be more … effective that way.”
He’s not challenging me, because he speaks quietly. After the whipping we both received, he’s taken to me in a frighteningly loyal way. Despite all the smiles and sneers and laughs, I have his obedience. And his question is sincere.
“We’re going to ruin Apollo,” I tell him.
“But why Apollo?” he asks. “Are we merely checking off the Houses at random, or should I know something?”
