A Burning Sea by Theodore Brun (i am reading a book txt) 📕

favours us. If only the Arab threat could be broken. . . we could make a life here.’

‘What are you saying? No! You can’t think like that. Fine – I grant you, this is a place with much good to teach, much we might carry back with us. But don’t ask me to give up my homeland. I gave Ringast my word.’

‘Lilla.’ He turned her chin to him and looked deep into the swirling dark of her eyes. ‘Is it your word you think of – or your revenge?’

She pushed away his hand. ‘You care nothing for either.’

‘My love –’ he shook his head and spoke softly – ‘vengeance is a dangerous dream. It repays the best of you with nothing but ashes and dust. Believe me, I know.’

‘I don’t dream of vengeance. I dream of justice. Even if it can only be found in the winds of war.’

‘You once told me wars were the petty grievances of petty men. Release war and you release chaos. You don’t know where it will lead. Or what else you will lose.’

‘I know I’ve lost everything already.’ She gazed up into his eyes. ‘Everything except you. I won you back.’

‘Aye. You did.’ He expelled a gentle sigh. ‘Listen to me, Lilla – I only want to protect you. You’re too precious to lose a second time.’ He pulled her closer to him, his hand slipping down her spine and over the smooth fullness of her hip. But she wouldn’t let it go.

‘When the siege is lifted,’ she murmured into his chest, ‘then we’ll take all we can from here.’

‘All?’ He scoffed. ‘You mean that devil’s fire.’

‘I mean anything that will serve us.’

‘And if the siege can’t be lifted—’

‘Make it so. And soon.’

‘What?’ He let out a bark of laughter. ‘What the Hel can I do?’

‘Whatever you can to bring the siege to an end. To break it. We need to leave this place, my love. It isn’t where we belong.’ When he didn’t answer, she pulled away from him and flung her thigh astride him, pinning his shoulders to the bed. ‘Promise me you’ll do all you can.’

‘Haven’t I made you enough promises?’ he murmured.

‘Promise me,’ she smiled, her voice a soft burr. She leaned back, her body arching above him, the half-lit orbs of her breasts shining like bronze in the firelight.

‘You know I’ll do anything for you,’ he said, his throat dry with desire. She leaned down and kissed him. He let her, savouring the soft press of her lips, inhaling her downy scent and the swirls of air escaping her nostrils, while the tip of her tongue flickered against his. And all the while burying the disquiet in his heart.

The gloom hid his frown. Because he was no closer to solving the riddle that had carried him into this cauldron of war. And he knew he could not leave it until he had.

Until he was free.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

‘You saw Maslama himself?’ asked Leo.

‘I did, Majesty.’ The Jewess stood before the emperor with the same haughty half-grin she had worn when the patriarch had fumed at her around Arbasdos’s table.

‘You did well, daughter of Abraham.’

‘I did.’

Katāros could not help but admire her. Her appearance was immaculate. There was not a fold out of place to suggest where she had been. She was dressed in black silk and cloaked in black wool, with baggy pantaloons of the style worn by merchants in the sweltering ports of southern Persia. Her long black hair was arranged in two demure braids that fell down her back. She must have an iron constitution to endure the cold in nothing more. But her clothes had served her purpose.

‘Tell me then. What did you learn?’

Lucia’s lips pursed for a brief moment, before she started speaking quickly and softly. ‘I saw nothing so pathetic as Maslama’s army, Majesty. Human waste everywhere. Dead carcasses of animals stripped to the bone. Even dead bodies, left to rot with the ground too hard to dig, or else waiting for the furnace—’

‘So they suffer privation,’ interrupted Leo, impatient, ‘yes, yes. But what of his plans?’

Lucia’s eyes flicked to Katāros. There was no one else in the room. The emperor had insisted on absolute privacy for this first report, not even his precious guards were present. The chamberlain calmly stepped forward and furnished the Jewess with a cup of warm Thracian red. She accepted, arching a slender eyebrow in thanks. ‘The new Caliph Umar has promised Maslama another fleet, bringing grain from Alexandria. And reinforcements from Syria.’

‘When, girl, when?’

‘They expect them in the spring.’

‘Nothing more specific?’

‘They know nothing more. Though they pray it is early spring,’ she added.

‘Hmm.’ The emperor brushed the imperial seal on his knuckle thoughtfully over his lips. ‘Anything else?’

‘They fear the Bulgars far more than they fear us. The people of the shadows, they call them.’

‘Anything else?’

‘General Suleiman presses Maslama to reach out to them in alliance against us. He counsels him to appeal to the caliph to send gold for the purpose.’

The emperor scoffed. ‘The Bulgars would never ally themselves to followers of the Prophet.’

‘Nevertheless, Maslama is considering it. Only the loss of personal honour makes him hesitate. To seek allies would be to admit failure – and with a force larger than any ever assembled. He wears it sorely.’

‘Maslama always did prefer to save face, whatever it cost him,’ observed Leo. ‘The Bulgars, eh?’ he muttered to himself, pacing up and down the priceless Bukharan carpet that warmed the marble floor.

‘There is one further thing you should know, Majesty.’

‘Go on.’

‘They have an agent within the city walls.’

Leo frowned. ‘An agent?’

‘A spy—’

‘Did you learn his identity?’

‘His. Or hers. . .’ The Jewess shrugged her small, sharp shoulders. ‘Alas, no. But they seem confident that their. . . person. . . is well placed.’

‘Mother of God,’ Leo swore, and paced even more restlessly. Katāros looked on, face impassive, though he couldn’t help but notice a glance from those kohl-rimmed eyes in his direction. He ignored it. For