“I hope you’ll stay,” came Amaranthe’s voice from the companionway. She climbed down the steps and sat on the bottom one. “Between the Behemoth and the numbers Forge and Ravido command, we’re terribly outmatched. And who knows if they have more weapons like the ones we just dropped onto the river bottom?” Amaranthe shuddered, and it probably wasn’t her wet clothing giving her chills.
“What were the weapons exactly?” Evrial asked.
Amaranthe explained them, and Evrial’s jaw dropped lower and lower as she listened. Amaranthe and her men had to be crazy—and suicidal—to take on these people. But what was the alternative? To walk away and hand them control of the empire? And, if those Forge people could enact the monetary policies they’d discuss at their meeting, perhaps eventually control of the world?
“I’ll stay,” Evrial said.
“Good,” Amaranthe said.
Maldynado sniffed. “I’m going to pretend it’s my charms that are keeping her here and not some moral obligation to defend the world from harm.”
“Whatever sates the demands of your ego, Maldynado,” Amaranthe said fondly.
EPILOGUE
With a dramatic sigh, Maldynado shoved the empty enforcer boat away from the dark beach. Amaranthe tried to manage a smile for his theatrics, but it was too late and the day had been too long. Sicarius stood by her side, and she was tempted to lean against him, but the others stood nearby, too, and she’d already hugged him within everybody’s view. Even though her feelings weren’t a secret anymore, she felt compelled to maintain the professional colleagues-only appearance, at least until they finished with business in the capital.
“I’m freezing.” Akstyr stomped about, hands tucked beneath his armpits. “And wetter than an alley cat caught under the piss pot window.”
“Colorful imagery,” Books murmured.
“Why couldn’t we ride back to that town before getting rid of the boat?” Akstyr asked.
“Because those marines will give chase as soon as they’ve made sure the people on the River Dancer aren’t in danger of drowning.” Amaranthe wouldn’t be surprised if one of their vessels passed by sooner than that. The marines and enforcers might not have figured out what exactly had happened yet—and that her team had survived—but they’d know Sicarius had escaped. “With luck, it’ll be miles before that boat snags somewhere and ends up on the bank. The marines won’t know where we went ashore.”
“To stay warm, I suggest stripping out of our wet clothes and engaging in vigorous physical activity for a while.” Maldynado slid an arm around Yara’s waist.
Amaranthe waited for Yara to shove the arm away and remind him of her no-touching rule. She didn’t. Interesting.
“Let’s get off this beach and put a couple of miles between us and our mess,” Amaranthe said. “Then we can risk a fire.”
“Jogging will keep us sufficiently warmed,” Sicarius said.
“Ever the pragmatist.” Amaranthe decided it was dark enough that nobody would notice her giving him a playful swat on the back. “Lead the way, please.”
Sicarius brushed past her, his hand finding a more personal area to swat than hers had. She grinned—and blushed.
The rest of the team followed in Sicarius’s wake with Amaranthe and Sespian bringing up the rear. She glanced at him a few times, but he didn’t say anything as they traipsed after the others, not for the first ten minutes anyway.
“I didn’t expect that of him,” Sespian finally said.
Thinking of Sicarius’s swat, Amaranthe blurted a mortified, “Huh?”
“I didn’t think he’d risk himself like that,” Sespian said. “Did he know he could win, do you think? Or was he ready to sacrifice himself for us?”
Amaranthe exhaled in relief. If nothing else good came out of this diversion, at least it might have altered Sespian’s image of his father, something that all the talking in the world wouldn’t have done. As she’d seen for herself. “I don’t know what his estimate of the odds was, but I do believe he’d sacrifice himself for you.”
“That’s... strange.”
“Dealings with him often are,” Amaranthe said, “but it’s worth cultivating a relationship with him.”
“In case you ever need an angry band of warriors distracted so you can escape?”
“Yes, or a pastry shoved up your nose,” Amaranthe murmured to herself with another smile.
THE END
Lindsay Buroker, Beneath the Surface
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