Chapter 32. Now Luca
NOW: LUCA
Asinia straightened as I neared the library of the Illyrium, where Vale had been shut up for most of the day. The tribune’s jaw clenched before he stepped in my path, blocking my entry.
I stopped short, gaze moving past him to where Vale was bent over a long table with a stylus in hand.
“Where is he?” Asinia’s voice was a crackle in his chest.
It took a few seconds for my mind to catch up to the question. He was asking about Théo. My tribune.
He hadn’t returned to camp since I’d sent him for the medallion, and the fact that Asinia didn’t know where he was only made me more inclined to believe that Théo was telling the truth when he said that I could trust him.
Asinia took a step toward me, his face only inches from mine. “Where is he, Luca?”
“He’s following orders,” I said.
“They’d better not be ones that get him killed.”
I met his eyes. “Every order we have given or followed since this started has killed someone. I hope Théo isn’t next, but maybe he is. Maybe I am. Maybe you.”
“He didn’t enlist, didn’t take the place as your tribune, to give his life for her.” Anger twisted Asinia’s words. He was worried about the man he loved, and I understood that kind of rage.
“Luca.” My name echoed behind him.
Vale was watching us from where he stood inside the temple’s library.
Asinia finally stepped aside, letting me pass, and I strode across the marble floors toward the Commander.
Vale was missing the cloak he usually wore, clad only in his tunic.
For the first time in a long time, he looked his age.
He was a month away from twenty-eight years old, but he had the face of a man who’d seen a hundred lifetimes.
“What was that?” he asked, dropping the stylus on the table.
“It was nothing.”
My eyes ran over the parchments between us.
He’d been poring over the inventory of the armory, taking stock of what we had left for the push into the Citadel District.
From what I’d seen of the Loyal Legion over the last few weeks, it was more than enough.
I could only hope that we didn’t have to use it.
“Are they ready?” Vale looked up at me, distracted.
I nodded. “Every cohort has their orders. They’re ready.”
Vale gave a slight shake of his head. “I don’t know,” he said, almost to himself. He scratched at the scruff covering his jaw. “Something still doesn’t feel right.”
I tried not to show how nervous that made me. Vale was more than intelligent. He was intuitive, sensing things in a way that I never did. He was also a patient man, another thing we didn’t have in common.
He finished the line of script he was writing, and once the ink was dry, he picked up the parchment and rolled it tightly, taking up the stick of red wax beside it.
I watched as he held it over the flame of the oil lamp.
It bubbled and he let it drip over the parchment’s seam, then he curled his fingers into a fist so that he could press his signet ring into the circle of wax. The seal of Isara.
He ran a hand through his hair and faintly winced, as if the movement woke a twinge in his ribs. “Every falcon that leaves that tower will come down until we cross that river.”
“Agreed,” I said, looking at Asinia. “Post more archers.”
Asinia obeyed, turning on his heel and ducking out. But not before he threw another tight glance at me over his shoulder.
Vale motioned for me to follow, and we took the long hallway that ran down the south side of the Illyrium to the temple’s entrance.
The camp was busy, the fragrant smell of venison stew in the air.
Vale had made sure the legionnaires could fill their bellies with food and wine, an indulgence meant to bolster them for the fight ahead.
I hoped it would also smooth over the news of the meeting with the Consul.
Striking the agreement to allow the citizens of the Citadel District to leave before we crossed the Sophanes had garnered mixed reactions in the New Legion, and it only confirmed that Roskia had been right.
If we hadn’t refused that courtesy to the Magistrates, I wasn’t sure the legionnaires would have supported the plan.
But that didn’t solve my own problem in the district.
Tomorrow, the legionnaires would stand on the riverbank to watch the steady stream of people crossing the bridge.
Wealthy Isarians draped in decadent chitons and shining gold jewelry would walk in a somber parade through the Lower City, and we’d be lucky if we could get them through the gates without someone drawing a sword.
Vale led us to his tent, weaving through the congested camp and touching the shoulder of a legionnaire or two on his way. He was moving better, not as rigid as he’d been in the days before, either. That was good.
As soon as we were inside, he tugged the tunic over his head, dropping it on the cot. For once, the bandage on his ribs wasn’t showing any evidence of bleeding.
“What are we going to do about Roskia once this is done?” I asked.
“That’s tomorrow’s problem. Not today’s.”
“I’m not so sure.”
He pulled a clean tunic on. “The only legionnaires left in this city have lost enough to know where their allegiances lie. Roskia will prove useful if we handle him right.”
I still wasn’t convinced. The fabric of the New Legion felt like it was on the verge of fraying. The soldiers were loyal, but as we’d fought our way through the Lower City, their passion had transfigured into what felt more like zeal. That worried me.
“The gates open at dawn. When the sun sets, we take the Citadel,” Vale said. “We just need to stay alive one more day. Can you do that?”
“I can do that.” I swallowed.
“Good. Because I need you, Luca.” He paused. “For what comes next, most of all.”
A sinking feeling woke at the center of my gut, as if the earth were pulling me into it.
The truth was, I’d lied to him when I told him we could wage this war against the Consul and come out the other side a better people.
I’d betrayed him when I refused the post of Commander and left it to him.
Because Vale had always been a better man than I was.
We both knew that. But it was a responsibility that had come at a cost, and he’d paid it tenfold.
“Where else would I be?” I said, voice low.
Vale looked at me with something like sympathy before he shouldered into his scale armor, turning his back to me. “Why didn’t you tell me she was here?”
I went still, understanding slowly settling between us. That was what this was about.
“That was reckless, Luca. Even for you.”
“She was picked up in the Lower City,” I said, handing Vale his cloak.
“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me.”
“She took a seat in the Forum, Vale. I’ll be in enough trouble if it comes out that I’ve taken vows with a Magistrate. There’s no reason to take you down with me.”
“I was there, Luca. I watched you take the vows.”
I glanced over my shoulder, checking the opening of the tent for anyone who could be listening. This was too dangerous a conversation to have in the camp. “I remember.”
“Which is why I’ll say it again.” He finished with the buckles. “I need you. Here.”
“I am here.”
“And what are you going to do about Maris?”
“I’m taking care of it.”
He studied my face, as if trying to determine how concerned he should be.
I wasn’t going to tell him that I was more worried than he was.
It didn’t matter what had come before or what would come after.
If it came down to a choice between Maris and the New Legion, or even Maris and taking the Citadel, I knew what I would do.
So did Vale. I just needed her outside the city gates so that I never had to make the choice.
“I’m with you,” I said.
He nodded.
For years, we’d served as legionnaires to the Citadel, even when officials cared more about statues than they did grain to feed their citizens.
And when I drew my blade in the Forum the day Vitrasian died, I’d set off a chain of events I couldn’t see coming.
But neither of us knew that word about what happened had spread through the legion.
The morning of my own tribunal, where I was sure to be executed myself, they came for me.
Vale came for me. We left six dead bodies in the catacombs that day, and then we’d crossed the Sophanes.
The Consul called those dead men the first casualties of this war, but he was wrong. Rhea was the first.
A deep, bellowing sound rang out in the distance, softened by a gale of wind, and Vale’s brow pinched.
“Is that…” He didn’t finish.
We both fell quiet, listening, my pulse kicking up in the passing seconds of silence. When it rang out again, my eyes snapped to Vale’s.
I knew the sound. It was the call of a horn. The kind that was used for only one thing—war.
Vale pushed out of the tent and I followed. Across the camp, the legionnaires were frozen, waiting. A whistle cut through the next stretch of silence and I looked up to see Asinia at the end of camp, jogging in our direction. Vale strode toward him, his scale armor jingling.
The closer he came, the clearer that grave look on Asinia’s face was. “Commander! The gates!”
He cut toward the Illyrium and we followed, climbing the exterior stairs as soon as we reached the courtyard.
He took us up the east side of the temple, where the withered rooftop garden was nothing more than dust in sculpted planters.
Asinia zigzagged between them with us on his heels until we reached the ledge on the other side of the building.
In the distance, I could see the western wall, where the city gates were shut up and barred.
The legionnaires standing watch along the plank walkways that overlooked the hills were moving.
The sunlight flashed on their armor as they scrambled past one another and more figures scaled the ladders below.
Asinia set his hands on the railing of the ledge beside us, eyes wide as a faint ping echoed out. I exhaled, knowing exactly what I would see in the next breath. It was the unmistakable sound of a ballista.
As soon as I thought it, a string of enormous stones appeared in the sky, hurling over the wall in an arc. We watched in horrified silence as they dropped, second by second, smashing into the buildings below.
We were under attack. But not by the Loyal Legion. This was coming from outside the walls.
“The gates!”
Vale’s voice tore through the air and the legionnaires below scrambled away from the river as we ran back down the steps.
Smoke from the fires was already trailing up to the sky as we darted through the tents, following the sound of shouting.
Ahead, the people of the Lower City were streaming out of their houses, filling the streets. Running in the opposite direction.
Asinia shoved through the crowd, making way for us to cross the main artery of the city, and when I spotted the red tunics ahead, I shoved him in their direction.
“There!”
He pivoted, cutting up the next street. The stones were still flying, accompanied by bolts that whistled through the air over us, crushing rooftops in their wake.
The growing swarm of legionnaires pooled, surrounding the gate, the archers climbing the ladders to take their places on the wall.
When I heard the roar of Vale’s voice calling orders, it wasn’t close now.
Somewhere in the last few seconds, I’d lost him.
I climbed the nearest toppled cart, searching the smoke, and I let out the breath I was holding when I spotted him standing before the gates.
Beside him, a crew of legionnaires lowered another bolt into place.
I jumped down, shoving through the bodies between us.
“I’m going!” I reached for the nearest ladder and climbed, hand over slick hand until I was launching myself up onto the walkway at the top of the wall.
I shoved the legionnaires aside so I could see, and a choked sound cracked in my throat when my eyes landed on the hills.
A haze of smoke moved against the bright sky, clearing just long enough for me to see them. Hundreds of soldiers clad in green were taking formation below. They were coming over the hills like a cloud of locusts.
“It can’t be,” a hoarse voice spoke behind me.
The same words were flitting through my own mind. I recognized the scene from countless stories of the Old War and the military scrolls that illustrated the battles. Those green tunics and gold-tipped flags rippling in the wind were like ghosts come back from the dead.
It was Valshad.