Gilded Serpent by Danielle Jensen (top 10 novels txt) 📕

Tell me, do your men know what befell you and the Maarin girl? Are they aware of the existence of the stem?”

“To answer those questions would be speculation.”

“Hmm, of course. Who would be in command in your absence?”

“Legatus Titus of the Forty-First and the Thirty-Seventh’s tribunus.”

More whispers from the senators seated on their benches, along with the rustle of them shifting to bend closer to one another’s ears.

“I will resume command once I’m returned via the Bardeen stem,” Marcus said. “I’d request the addition of another legion to bolster my ranks, which will allow further expansion of our footprint. And while I’m here, there is the matter of the Maarin.” He hesitated, the sudden silence behind him unnerving. “Teriana of the Quincense has fulfilled her end of our agreement, and as such, we must uphold ours.”

“The Maarin, of course.” Cassius held out a hand, and a lawyer stepped forward to hand him a document. “Allow me to refresh my memory.”

He slowly read through the pages, nodding from time to time. “On the surface,” he murmured, “it certainly seems that Teriana of the Quincense has gone above and beyond what she agreed to, but…”

Cassius shook his head, and Marcus’s stomach dropped, because he’d known it wouldn’t be so easy. That Cassius would find a way to wriggle out of the bargain.

“It specifically says here that the xenthier stems are to be viable,” Cassius continued. “I believe that was your own addition to the document, Legatus, and for good reason. A stem that delivered into the bottom of a lake or off the side of a cliff would be no means of retreat for your men.” Lifting a finger, he leveled it at Marcus. “As always, you show great foresight.”

Foresight was not the word Marcus would have used in this moment. Not when he could see just how Cassius intended to use Marcus’s own words against him. Against Teriana.

“The question we must ask ourselves,” Cassius said, stepping off the dais to circle the space, forcing Marcus to turn, “is whether we consider these stems in Bardeen and Sibern viable.”

“Has Bardeen slipped our grip so badly that we should not?” Marcus asked. “Do you doubt the Empire’s ability to provide supplies and reinforcements?”

“Bardeen has been restless, to be sure.” Cassius rested an elbow against a railing. “But it is the lesser concern. What I fear is a circumstance where we, in giving up your access to the Maarin, deprive you of an avenue of retreat. For while it isn’t the bottom of a lake or the side of a cliff, what is two legions of young men finding themselves in a Sibernese winter but a slower way for them to die?”

It was the truth. But Marcus had banked that Cassius’s desire to increase the Empire’s hold on the Dark Shores would be greater than his desire to keep the Maarin prisoner. Judging by the way the consul’s piggish eyes gleamed, he’d been wrong. And unless he could convince the Senate that he was satisfied with the stems, Teriana, her crew, and all the Maarin prisoners would pay the price.

“Our position in Arinoquia is strong. A need for retreat is unlikely, but if it were to occur, we would be prepared for the elements.” As if it were possible to be prepared for the dead of Sibernese winter. Half the legion would starve, and the other half would freeze to death. Those who got out alive would probably wish they hadn’t. “And the majority of our fleet is intact, which would allow us to move positions within the West should I deem our position compromised.”

“I don’t doubt you believe that to be the case, Legatus, but it feels irresponsible to leave you so exposed. In either event,” he turned to face his fellow senators, “this is a matter on which we must vote, do you not agree? We are responsible for these young men and must treat this decision with the gravity it deserves.”

The senators thumped their heels against the ground in agreement, and Marcus ground his teeth in frustration. “This is a tactical decision, not a political one, and as such, it should be mine.”

And what would your decision be if Teriana weren’t involved?

He shoved away the thought, adding, “I will accept the Senate choosing not to commit more resources to the campaign until additional paths can be mapped, but refusing to honor our agreement with the Maarin means the Senate’s word is worth less than the paper that agreement was written on. How am I to negotiate with the nations of the West given they will surely hear of this?”

Cassius stared him down, and in his eyes, Marcus could see the truth: We didn’t send you to negotiate. “I applaud both your enthusiasm and your honor, Legatus. But this, my friends”—he gestured to the senators—“is a much-needed reminder that despite all he has accomplished, the legatus is only … nineteen? Or is it twenty now? Regardless, he’s little more than a boy and speaks with a child’s passions.”

Incredulity filled Marcus, followed quickly by fury. But before he could speak, Wex said, “Consul—”

“It isn’t meant as an insult, Commandant,” Cassius interrupted, waving his hands in pacifying gestures. “Only a reminder that those of us with age and experience have a duty to the Empire to guide the passions of young men lest they be our downfall.”

Marcus heard what Cassius was truly saying: this was not a reminder for the Senate but for him. A reminder that he had power only because the Senate gave it to him. Which meant in this room, he was powerless.

“Direct your minds to this difficult decision, my friends!” Cassius shouted. “All who deem the path to Sibern viable, and are of the opinion we should consider the contract with the Maarin fulfilled, please cast your vote.”

He didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see the moment where he’d failed her. But this situation would be no better for his cowardice, so Marcus lifted his head. And his stomach dropped