Devoured Innocence

by Michelle Marquis

  The doors slammed outward but were arrested by the chain. A few more slams from the axe made short work of it. Large, broken pieces of wood, splinters and chain flew forward littering the ground in front of the building.

  Gavin’s heavy black boots stepped over the splintered and crushed debris. He was a breathtaking vision of masculine power and virility, and Harlan felt the immediate pull of his ferocious sexuality.

  His handsome face was dark with vengeful rage as that one good golden eye scanned his brother Dragon. The vertical pupil narrowed to a sliver. A muscle twitched in his wide jaw. Gavin stood before them bare-chested, holding a battle axe loosely in his right hand. Harlan guessed Titan had left it in the tomb for Gavin’s eventual awakening. She didn’t want to think about why.

  Harlan felt Dragon’s touch to the small of her back. “Go to him now.”

  Gavin hadn’t looked at her yet, but the moment she took a step closer his eye locked onto her. With a tentative step she moved forward, closing the distance between them. She stopped only a foot away and took a deep breath then let her instinct take over. The hate and confusion in his eye darted from Dragon to her then back again. Harlan’s heart raced in her chest as she reached out and touched her fingertips to his hand. The axe, which had been gently swinging back and forth, froze.

  Harlan realized her hands were trembling. She reached up and took his face in her hands. He didn’t tense so she pushed further and pulled him down into a sensual, familiar kiss. He yielded to her touch and released the handle of the battle axe. It fell to the ground with a heavy clunk.

  Pulling her closer, Gavin pressed his lips against hers with a desperate force he hadn’t used in years. She relaxed as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight for a long time. The tension in him eased.

  Harlan leaned into his ear and said, “We have to leave right now. No questions.”

  Gavin pulled back from her and glanced around, until his eyes lit on his brother. Then he nodded and followed them out.

  Chapter 21

  “Lieutenant, take the pots now,” the head cook barked at Gypsy.

  The short, portly male didn’t have anything against her; he just needed things done and she was their servant according to Dzabol. For the first few days, the cook and junior staff mostly ignored her. Shifting and stammering when they talked to her at all. Clearly they were uncomfortable ordering a lieutenant around, even with Dzabol’s blessing. But as the days passed, they realized she was obedient and used her for whatever extra work they had. There were plenty of opportunities to exploit their new found authority over her, but they hadn’t so far.

  Once the lunch line had been served, there was nothing left to do but clean up. The cook and his charges took all the leftover meat and laid it out to make dry rations. Gypsy heaved up the first of many heavy pots and carried it down to the lake. She was grateful for the task because it gave her some needed solitude. Since the commander hadn’t forced her to partake in his cocktail party last night she was feeling normal for the first time since being absorbed by this legion.

  Kneeling on the bank she used a wooden bowl to scoop water and sand into the pot. The sand made a good abrasive, loosening the leftover food stuck there. It was menial work meant to test loyalty.

  The daily labor exhausted some of the worry from her. Most of her fears were for Missy, so small and helpless, but she also worried about everyone else. Kharon was a capable warrior but she fretted anyway because she hadn’t communicated with him since getting here. She also missed Gavin. It was an odd emotion, missing that old bastard. The pain of her father’s loss was sometimes immobilizing. The very thought of never seeing him again almost tore a sob from her throat. All she could do was cling to the hope that Dragon could revive him.

  Wanting to feel better, Gypsy reached out to Kharon, but it was no use. Though the drugs had worn off, she was dead tired and her mind was both distracted and numb. Sleeping was something that only came fitfully and even then, Dzabol’s poisoned drink obliterated the memory of any dreams.

  So many thoughts and emotions crowded her mind she couldn’t keep track of them all. But the most pressing threat to her was Dzabol. Since that first night she had been waiting for him to slip her more of his drugged liquor and have at her. He was that sleazy. The only reason he probably hadn’t done so already was because he lacked courage. They were both Imperial officers and regardless of what he thought of her enlistment, he’d be crossing a dangerous line.

  In some circles of thought it could be akin to using his position of power to rape a male, were he so inclined. She had been bold enough once to hint at that scenario and she was promptly rewarded with the back of his hand.

  Most days she tied back her hair and rolled up her sleeves so the other soldiers could see the injuries the commander left behind. She knew the sight disturbed many of them for different reasons. All were perturbed at her treatment, some because she was a soldier and an officer. Some were bothered because she was a woman. It never hurt to try and plant the seeds of dissension.

  Climbing back to her feet, Gypsy lifted the pot and emptied the grimy water back into the lake. A scattering of small, brown fish swarmed the bits of food. She was strangely fascinated by their simple desire to survive.

  A rustle in the bushes nearby jolted her from her thoughts making her drop the pot. Turning toward the noise she drew her sword. A soldier in a different uniform stepped from behind the tall brush for a brief instant then disappeared back into the shadows. Either that stupid drink is still messing with my mind or that was Falken.

  Gypsy picked up the pot and stashed it behind some rocks just in case Dzabol had spies. Though she was fairly confident he was too lazy and pretentious to waste the man power watching her, she didn’t want to take any chances. After waiting for almost five minutes she couldn’t stand it anymore. The inherent danger didn’t matter. With her weapon low and in front, she crept into the bushes, trying to step lightly to soften the crunching of her boots on gravel.

  Gods, it is Falken. Gypsy entered a small clearing and stared at Falken watching her with his own sword drawn and ready. This was the best she had felt since seeing Makkai. Dzabol had immediately barred any reunions with soldiers she knew and went out of his way to ensure they had no contact with her either. Without any fear of treachery she rushed into his arms, squeezing him as tight as she could. She was elated mostly because it was so wonderful to see a friendly, familiar face. She would have jumped his bones right there had their situation been different.

  Falken pushed her back and firmly held her shoulders. “There’s not a lot of time. I came from Augustus’ legion ten miles to the south. Makkai deserted Dzabol late last night to join us. He told me you were here.”

  “Augustus? I don’t understand what’s going on. Is there really a civil war?” Gypsy had heard civil war stories from her father and even some from Kharon. Never in her life did she think the empire could destabilize to this point.

  “There’s no time for details. The two armies aren’t evenly split. You need to choose your side and soon. Some families have sided with Augustus, but many more with Megolyth. The numbers are unreliable. But you need to know the odds are high that Megolyth will win, because many powerful noblemen like their status. They stand to lose a lot. If you join us and we lose, you and anyone bearing the Theron name will be killed. I have no doubt that Nineveh will turn everyone over to Megolyth once all is sorted out. Your mother is the only one who will probably be allowed to survive. If we lose, Megolyth will finally have her as his consort.”

  “You know about that?”

  Falken smiled at her naiveté. “Of course, all of the nobility do. It has been a soft-spoken scandal for years. Most think Gavin’s arrest was a new attempt to claim her. Had your mother not been married to the head of the military, she would have been Megolyth’s a long time ago. Enough talk. On the far side of this lake is the Barnock River. Follow it south. Stay true but off of the main trail. Our watchmen will spot you lon
g before you’ll find us. They’ll escort you in.”

  Leaning forward he briefly pressed his lips into hers, then retreated back into the brush. His parting was a dagger in her heart. A moment later she heard him ride off. She came back to the bank and picked up the pot, trying to gather her thoughts. Not only was desertion an unexecutable offense, but it was a stigma of shame and dishonor that could last a lifetime. The soldier in her tried to resist. Unfortunately, her truth was that Megolyth had betrayed her family twice over. Now in addition to imprisoning and killing her father, the pig had also turned her mother over to the Razorback Queen. Megolyth wanted to ensure his prize stayed safe while all of this nasty business went on. No, her loyalty to her family came first. He was the traitor, not her.

  All of her youth and inexperience goaded her to make a run for it. Could she make it to the opposing camp before she was caught? Maybe. But at this point in her life, maybe wasn’t good enough. I need to think my way out of here.

  If Augustus was only ten miles from them, he was probably planning an attack. That could happen at any time and Gypsy wanted to be on the Grand Duke’s side when it did, so time was limited. She walked back up the worn trail, returning to the cook and his apprentice. The cook handed her two more pots.

  “You’re taking too long, Lieutenant. Step it up or you’ll be working through your sleep shift," the cook snapped.

  Nodding, she took the pots and headed back to the lake. Since the cook’s other tasks had been completed, there were now four junior officers down by the lake scrubbing pots. It would be impossible to slip away unnoticed. She returned to collect more cookware for cleaning; that’s when she felt it. Kharon had managed to break through. Though still sleepy and disoriented, she managed to comprehend some of his message.

  Think like a woman, not like a soldier.

  What the hell does that mean? But he was gone from her mind.

  As she replayed his words over and over she glanced at the command tent and the answer came to her. Tossing the still dirty pots into the rickety storage wagon, she meandered over to the where the cook was counting supplies.

  Gypsy gently touched his arm. The cook turned to look at her puzzled. “I need to speak to Commander Dzabol. It’s important and can’t wait until later.”

  “Have you finished your duties?” he asked.

  “Yes sir.”

  Waving her off annoyed, he pointed to Dzabol’s tent. “Then go.”

  Gypsy approached the guards outside of the command tent. Think like a woman. He’s stupid and arrogant. You can do this.

  In the most timid, feminine voice she could stomach she said, “I would like to have a word with Commander Dzabol, if he could spare me a moment.”

  The much older guard regarded her suspiciously. But he was trained to follow protocol, so he went inside the command tent and returned a moment later. “You may enter, Lieutenant.”

  Gypsy came into the tent and knelt down, bowing her head. A new map adorned the far wall, where he stood with his back to her, studying it. Holy crap! He knows. There were several black flags on the map, accompanied by green lines, red lines, arrows and crossed markers. Based on the terrain and Falken’s directions, she guessed that the black flags were an indication of where Augustus’ legion was camped. The rest of the markings might as well have been in Sambien for all she knew. Still she tried to study the map without his notice.

  Military map reading and marking was a course that hounded you through every year at the academy. Most cadets just wanted to pass it and get on with the fighting. Only a few cadets really appreciated its importance and studied long hours to master it. Gypsy was not one of them. What I wouldn’t give to have Makkai here to interpret these scribbles for me.

  “You may rise,” Dzabol said with his usual smugness.

  Standing up she stole quick glances at the map, trying to memorize as much as she could. “Thank you, sir.”

  “This is an unexpected pleasure. What can I do for you?”

  The sound of his voice left a greasy film on her skin, but she continued to don her submissive, feminine persona as best she could.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking a lot since I got here. With my father dead…” Those words almost brought a shudder of agony. “…perhaps my military ambitions are not as solid as I thought they were. I have always been under the influence and protection of both my father and my husband. With both of them gone, I am not so sure this is the best place for me anymore. You understand, of course.”

  He studied her face, searching for deceit. “Really? But I thought you were devoted to serving the emperor.”

  He’s not buying it. I’ve got to be more convincing.

  “Everyone knows that the emperor only tolerated me because of my father’s position. I think it is time to explore other opportunities.” She shrugged and added, “Maybe something more suited to my sex. If my husband still lives he won’t be thrilled. Commander Kharon enjoys the status of being wed to an anomaly. I imagine once I’ve found a more feminine role he will put me aside, which would make me available to other suitors.”

  The last part was added because she wanted to create the illusion of an invitation. She needed him to believe he had a chance with her. This idiot’s stiff dick will delay his reasoning just long enough for me to get out of here. It’s in his eyes.

  Dzabol folded his arms across his chest. He glowed with conceit, barely containing his triumph. “You realize resigning your commission will destroy your career forever.”

  “My career is as dead as my father. No one is going to advance my rank any further. I need to make peace and pledge my obedience to Megolyth as a common citizen. Maybe he will spare the rest of my family.” The words brought bile to the back of her throat, but she had to fight this battle with her mind, not her sword.

  Stepping forward he took her hands in his, massaging the back of them with his thumbs. It felt like a swarm of insects on her skin.

  “I know this is difficult for you. But you have made the right choice. With your father gone, no one will keep you safe and you would have ended up dead very soon. You are a good, obedient woman Gypsy.”

  “Thank you, sir; that’s very kind of you to say.”

  “Would you like to join me in a final drink while I draw up your discharge papers? It’s late, maybe you’d like to stay the night before you return to the empire.”

  And there was the invitation.

  Ugh. Just when I thought I couldn’t hate him any more than I already do.

  “Thank you for the offer sir, but I really need to return to the empire and Megolyth’s mercy.”

  Nodding, he pulled a few papers loose from a large leather satchel hanging on the tent pole behind him. He scribbled his signature then handed the top copy to her. Looking down at the paper she saw a ticket to freedom. No desertion or dishonor necessary. He had underestimated her like they all did. Dzabol walked past her to one of the males standing guard outside the entrance to his tent. He mumbled something to him that Gypsy couldn’t hear. When he returned to her he smiled and said, “You are discharged.”

  Giving a short bow she walked outside.

  A fellow lieutenant saddled her mount and brought it to her. Though he was two years ahead of her, she remembered him from the academy. They hadn’t interacted much, but he had always been cordial. Grabbing the reins, she mounted and gave him a nod of thanks.

  “Damn shame, this,” the lieutenant said. “You’re one of the finest soldiers I have ever had the pleasure of serving with. Good luck, Gypsy.”

  “Thank you, good luck to you, too. May Commander Dzabol come out victorious,” she said without the faintest hint of sarcasm.

  Pressing her spurs into the sides of her hyperia, she headed off toward the river to join the enemy. Her father would have been so proud.

  Chapter 22

  Arriving at the perimeter a few minutes before sunset, Gypsy allowed Augustus’ watchmen to take her into custody. Initially they had requested she disarm, which she wasn�
��t entirely comfortable with, so she stalled. After a few minutes, a major interceded and allowed her to pass. At least she wasn’t a prisoner at this point. The legion commander assigned her a two-soldier escort and sent her to the wealthiest part of the Imperial city. She had never even dismounted.

  The two young men were enlisted so it wasn’t hard to extract information from them during the long ride. From what she could gather, Augustus had taken control of the most affluent part of the city and was using vacant buildings to house the soldiers willing to fight under his banner. They also mentioned the pay was fantastic. That didn’t surprise Gypsy in the least.

  They entered the city through the western gates without any inquiries from the regular Imperial guards. Then she noticed that the small insignia patch bearing Megolyth’s coat of arms was missing from all of the uniforms. Riding between her escorts she was led down the main street in the neighborhood known as Province Row. A current of sadness ran through her because this was where she had lived with Caraculla. The beautiful residence they had shared was given to another flag officer a few months ago, but she would always consider it a home. As they passed the large buildings and homes, Gypsy scanned the second and third stories, seeing enlisted men and their officers watching her through open windows and rooftops. Many of the buildings had porches and balconies which were packed with uniformed males.

  The soldiers signaled for her to stop in front of the Imperial Theater House. The friendlier of the two, Tarloq, dismounted. He took their reins and handed them to the other escort.

  “Come with me, Lieutenant.”

  A million questions raced through her head, but she kept her silence. She didn’t want to seem too anxious. Any relevant information Tarloq had, he’d already shared with her.

  He led her through the lobby of the theater house which was packed. There were officers, enlisted, noblemen and servants. The expensive red and gold carpet was dirt-tracked from everyone coming and going. Clusters of men talked in loud, excited voices, but stopped to stare at her as she passed. Everyone who looked wore the same expression of disbelief. Gypsy didn’t know what to make of their silence.