“I’m hardly one to go around dispensing wisdom,” she said. “Queen or not. I just thought...” She trailed off.
“You’re right,” Winter said. “They would want to see me.” I’m just scared. Scared to see Marcus and of all that would mean. Scared to see Cyte again, and then face not seeing her. And the others. Abby. Feor. Sevran. I can’t just slink away. Winter swallowed again and sat up straighter. “Your plan makes sense. If you’re willing to help. “
“Good,” Raesinia said. “I’ll send a messenger to Marcus, and we can get started.”
“Actually, I think I need to speak to Marcus alone. If you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” Raesinia stood up, then looked back at Winter. “Do you need to try to find one of your old uniforms? The ones that, ah...”
Her disguise. Winter looked down at herself. She’d had the chance to wash all her clothes aboard ship, though they were still heavily patched and motley. Her traveling outfit wasn’t particularly feminine, trousers and a loose shirt, but neither was it intended to conceal, like her tailored uniforms. Even her hair had grown out, almost to her shoulders.
“No,” she said. Something inside her twisted. “I don’t think so.”
*
Winter sat in one of the palace’s innumerable parlors, in a wingback chair beside a roaring fire that dispelled the late-?autumn chill. Servants had brought a glass of wine—?rather good wine—?and a tray of fruit and cheese. She waited, tense as a cat, until she heard booted footsteps outside the door.
Marcus came in, brushing flecks of mud from the sleeves of his uniform coat. He’d aged visibly since Winter had last seen him, the dark circles under his eyes hardening into permanent fixtures, the hair at his temples and in his beard flecked with gray. He also seemed, in some indefinable way, smaller. In her memory, especially from back in Khandar, he loomed as enormous and solid as a mountain. This was just a man, a decade or so older than her and half a head taller, weary after a long day and short of sleep.
She wondered what he saw, looking at her. It took him a moment, and then his eyes widened. He closed the door behind him carefully.
“General Ihernglass,” he said. “By God it’s good to see you again.”
“You as well, General d’Ivoire,” Winter said. “You’ve talked to the queen?”
“She filled me in,” Marcus said, crossing the room. “Though I have some questions for you about the Beast. I take it you’ve seen it in action.”
“More than enough for one lifetime,” Winter said. “But I need to talk to you about something else first.”
“Something else?” Marcus frowned.
“It’s...” She took a deep breath. “Go ahead and sit down. It may take a few minutes.”
Marcus looked at her curiously, but took the other seat, stretching out to put his boots near the fire. Winter leaned across to pass him the second glass of wine, which he accepted gratefully.
“I see you’re in your... female disguise again,” he said, after a sip. “Good thinking. If Janus and the Beast are looking for General Ihernglass, they’re hardly going to question a ragged girl.”
Winter set her jaw. Marcus had seen her without her disguise once before, when she was working with Jane’s Leatherbacks, and he’d had the same response then. Sothe was right. He truly doesn’t want to see.
“First of all,” she said carefully, “let’s get that out of the way. This is not a disguise, Marcus.”
“I mean...” He waved his hands vaguely. “It’s not as obvious as last time, but—”
“I mean it is not a disguise at all,” Winter said. “I am a woman.”
“You...” Marcus blinked. “You’re...”
“Please don’t make me pull up my shirt and demonstrate,” Winter said.
“That, uh, won’t be necessary,” Marcus said hastily. He stared at her. “You’re... I mean... since Khandar?”
“Since I was born, as far as I know,” Winter said.
“How? How did you...?”
“Do you really want to know?”
He thought about that for a moment. “No,” he said. “Not really. But why?”
“Because you would have thrown me out of the army if I hadn’t.”
“I wouldn’t have...” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have thrown you out. I would have made certain you were taken care of.”
“I’m sure you would have, but that’s not the point.”
“Why join the army at all?” Marcus said. “Why would a girl...? I mean, why would you want that?”
“You’ve been commanding the Girls’ Own, I understand,” Winter said. “Ask them.”
“That’s different,” Marcus said. “I admit, at the beginning, I was... opposed to the idea. But the women in the Girls’ Own joined up because they wanted to defend Vordan when it was under attack.”
Or because it was the only way out of wherever they started, Winter thought. Or out of a marriage they hated, or away from a father who beat them. Or because they wanted an adventure. Or a hundred other reasons. But she remained silent.
“I understand that,” Marcus went on. “When your country is in danger, sometimes you have to do things that... aren’t usual. But you were in Khandar for three years before the Redemption, weren’t you? God, you must have been what, eighteen when you arrived?”
“Twenty,” Winter corrected.
“Why, then?”
“That’s the second part. The more important part.” Winter paused, gathering her courage. “I grew up in an institution. A school called Mrs. Wilmore’s Royal Benevolent Home for Wayward Youth.” From the way Marcus’ face went still, she knew he recognized the name. “It... wasn’t a good place, and I ran away. I wanted to get as far from there as I possibly could.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if I was in my right mind, to be honest. But the recruiting sergeants weren’t hard to trick, and Khandar is a hell of a long way from anywhere.” She let out a long breath. “Did Raesinia tell you how we got back to Vordan?”
“Only that it was difficult,” Marcus said quietly.
“Difficult is one word,” Winter said carefully. “We were stuck in a Murnskai port called Dimiotsk when Sothe found us. She had a ship all ready.”
“Yes, she did tell me that. Janus talked to her, somehow, and told her to go and get you. But—”
Winter held up a hand. “While we were aboard ship, Sothe and I talked. She told me about your parents.”
“Did she tell you,” Marcus grated, “that she killed them?”
“She did. She also told me she’d been looking for your little sister, Ellie.”
Another silence. Wood in the fireplace popped with a sound like a musket shot.
“Did you...?” Marcus’ voice was thick. “You were at Mrs. Wilmore’s. Did you know her?”
“Not exactly,” Winter said. “Marcus, she told me I am Ellie d’Ivoire.”
She watched his face pale by several shades, blood running out of it like his throat had been slashed. His eyes never left hers.
“You?” he said. “E-Ellie?”
“I don’t remember the name,” Winter said. “I don’t remember anything, really. Except fire.” She took the small notebook out of her pocket, held it in front of her like a peace offering. “This is the information Sothe copied from the Concordat archives. It’s... convincing.”