The Infernal Battalion (The Shadow Campaigns #5)

It was an odd feeling, traveling in such comfort despite the dire circumstances, but Marcus wasn’t complaining. The bed, especially, he appreciated. Both for sleep—?the aches and pops of his joints reminded him he was getting too old to spend so much time under canvas—?and for... other reasons.

He propped himself up on one elbow, sinking deep into the feather mattress, and looked down at Raesinia. She lay beside him, half-?covered by a sheet, eyes closed, breathing gently. He couldn’t help but marvel at her. She looks so... delicate. The fine bones of her face, the soft hollows of her neck and the sweep of her collarbone, the rise of her small breasts, her tiny wrist and the thin fingers of her hand. She looked like the slightest pressure would snap her in two, like something unbearably fragile and precious, a statue made out of paper-?thin porcelain.

She would laugh at that description, of course. And the truth was that she was anything but delicate—?in her body but, more important, as a person. Marcus reached out to brush her cheek gently, and her eyes snapped open.

“I’m not asleep,” she said. “Just so you know. I don’t sleep.”

“Not ever?”

She sat up and shrugged, sheet falling to her waist. “Not since the binding. The last time I was unconscious it was because someone had literally blown my brains out.”

Marcus winced. “I wish you wouldn’t be so casual about—”

“Getting killed?” Raesinia grinned impishly. “It’s a defense mechanism. If I took it too seriously I’d never stop screaming.”

“I suppose,” Marcus said. “Still.”

“Sorry.” She leaned over and kissed him. “I’ll try to keep your delicate sensibilities in mind.”

She slid out of bed and walked naked to the sideboard, where there was a jug of water. Marcus turned over to watch her. She was clearly aware of the way his eyes lingered, but pretended not to be, in a way that Marcus found incredibly endearing.

“We’ll make Vordan City today,” she said. “This morning, if the wind holds. We made it.”

“We made it,” Marcus agreed. “But we still don’t know how close Janus is.”

Raesinia downed a glass of water, nodding. “We’re going to be very busy for a while, that’s for certain.”

She raised an eyebrow. Marcus looked puzzled for a moment, then grinned.

“Do we have time?” he said.

“We can try,” Raesinia said. “You seem... interested.”

Marcus looked down to find the sheet pulled tight across his waist, making his rising interest obvious indeed. He laughed and kicked it aside, rolling out of bed and meeting Raesinia halfway across the room. He wrapped his arms around her, picked her up—?she was so light, like she was barely there at all—?and kissed her, as she happily put her arms around his neck. The Queen of Vordan was nowhere to be found, at moments like this. There was only the laughing, lively, beautiful Raes, whom he’d started to fall in love with the night they’d snuck into Exchange Central, who’d trusted him with her direst secrets, who’d come to his rescue a half dozen times. Who was lithe and warm against him, inexperienced but full of enthusiasm.

There was a knock at the door.

“Fuck,” Raesinia said quietly. Then, a bit louder, “Yes?”

“Your Highness,” said a Borelgai-?accented voice from outside. “We’ve reached the edge of the Vordan City harbor, and we’ve received a messenger from shore. He says that we do not have permission to approach and that the shore batteries will fire on us if we try to go past the pilings.”

Raesinia gave an irritated sigh. “Aren’t we flying my flag?” she said to Marcus.

“These are Borelgai ships,” Marcus said. “Those defenses were built against this exact scenario. It’s hard to blame them.”

“I’ll have to go ashore and convince them.” Raesinia unwrapped herself from Marcus, and he lowered her gently to the ground.

“We don’t know exactly what kind of reception we’ll get,” Marcus said. “Maybe it would be best if you stayed aboard.”

“Marcus,” Raesinia snapped, fixing him with a stare. “Please listen carefully for a moment, would you?”

“I—” He caught her expression. “I’m listening.”

“I love you,” she said matter-of-factly. “And this, what we’ve had, has been better than I could have ever imagined. I don’t plan to give it up anytime soon. But”—?her smile returned—“if you start using it as a reason to try to treat me like I’m made of eggshells, I am going to personally beat you black-?and-?blue. Understood?”

Marcus couldn’t help but smile himself. “Understood. I can’t promise I’ll never do that, but feel free to swat me if I do.”

“I don’t need your permission to swat you. I’m the fucking queen.” Raesinia rose to her toes and kissed him.

“May I at least come with you? A military presence may be useful.”

“Of course.” She looked at him and sighed. “I suppose you’ll have to get dressed, though.”


RAESINIA

Sitting in the longboat beside Marcus, with a crew of Borelgai sailors and a few Second Division soldiers as an honor guard, Raesinia had to work to keep her face straight, fighting the urge to break into a big, silly grin. It was inappropriate, obviously. Her throne was in peril, her capital days or weeks from being invaded by a man who was at best a potential tyrant and at worst the plaything of who knew what dark power. Quite a few of the men and women traveling with her on the Borelgai ships would be dead before this was over even if everything went well. And God knows what will happen to me if we lose.

And yet. The time aboard the Dominant had made her feel happy. Not just satisfied in the knowledge that her country, her people, or even her friends would survive, but happy in her own right. This had not been a common occurrence in Raesinia’s life, at least after her illness and her brother’s death. There hadn’t been much time as she went from one crisis to the next—?Orlanko, Maurisk, the Priests of the Black, and now Janus himself. Only a few times—?talking with her friends at the Blue Mask, laughing with Marcus as they roamed the city, incognito and free—?had come close.

There was also sex, of course. It was honestly something Raesinia hadn’t known if she’d be capable of. Her education on the subject had been scanty before she’d started associating with students and revolutionaries, and even afterward she’d been left wondering if the binding would allow her to enjoy it. I can’t get drunk, after all. Or sleep. A little furtive, solitary experimentation had been inconclusive. So it had been a relief to discover that whatever changes the magic had made to her body, they didn’t interfere in this case.

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