“Started hearing rumors you were back,” Abby said. She looked older than when Winter had last seen her, her freckled face pale and drawn. “It’s good to see you, sir.”
“You, too,” Winter said. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”
They looked at each other for a long moment. Winter was always a little uncertain around Abby. The girl had been Jane’s lover after Winter had run off to Khandar, and though Jane had returned to Winter’s bed when she’d come back, there had always been tension between them. Then Jane had betrayed them both, and neither Winter nor Abby had taken it well.
“Will you be assuming command?” Abby said. “I’ve been running the Second Division since Marcus took overall command, but I’m sure the soldiers would be happy to have you back.” She gestured at the papers. “God knows I’d be happy to have someone to push this off on to.”
“No,” Winter said. “That’s what I came to talk to you about.”
“I should have known I wouldn’t get off that easily.” Abby gestured at the chair across from her. “Sit, if you like.”
Winter cleared a stained tin plate out of the way and sat down. “There’s an... assignment,” she said carefully. “Something I need to do. It’s important.”
“Yours always are, sir,” Abby said.
“I won’t be back until after the battle,” Winter said. “Assuming I make it back at all, of course. And—”
Abby sat back in her chair. “You’ve been talking with Marcus.”
“I’ve been talking with Cyte,” Winter said. “She’s worried about you.”
“And you’re wondering whether you can trust me with the Second.”
Winter closed her eyes for a moment. “When I left the division, in Murnsk, I would have trusted you in a heartbeat. I need to know if anything has changed.”
“A lot of good men and women are dead,” Abby said. “And Parker Erdine, too, I suppose. Does that count as a change?”
“You know what I mean.”
Abby’s freckled face colored slightly. “What do you want me to say? That it hasn’t affected me? You know that’s not true. We fought our way back from Murnsk, and then after Alves...” She shook her head. “Sometimes it feels like not going mad takes everything I have.”
“I know,” Winter said. “Believe me, I understand.”
“When Parker died...” Abby swallowed. “Stupid, pretty boy. He didn’t have any illusions about what we had. It was... just comfort. I wanted to feel something that wasn’t fear or anger, that’s all. And I couldn’t even have that.”
Winter’s throat was thick. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have been there.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault but mine.” Abby looked down at her hands. “I just started thinking... what am I even doing here? I joined up with Jane because... because I loved her, or thought I did. And when I realized she’d turned into someone I couldn’t love anymore, I stayed because I felt like I had to keep her girls safe. That was all she ever wanted, really. She just lost sight of it sometimes.”
“You’ve done a good job,” Winter said.
“Have I?” Abby looked up. “How many of the old Leatherbacks are left? How many arms and legs are rotting away somewhere? Am I doing them a favor by leading them into the fight, or am I just lying to them to get them to make one more charge?” Her lips tightened. “I told Marcus we wanted to fight, you know. I was afraid he’d stick us off to the rear somewhere. The girls wanted me to do it, but if I hadn’t said anything, some of the ones we buried might still be alive.”
“And someone else would be dead,” Winter said gently. “That’s why they joined up. To take danger on themselves and away from others.” She remembered Cyte’s angry retort and found herself smiling. “Give them some credit, Abby.”
Abby took a deep breath and blew it out in a rush. She nodded.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Cyte’s right. I’ve been...”
“It’s all right.” Winter paused. “If you want, I’ll find someone else to take command. There’s no shame in it. You’ve given more than anyone could ask for.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Abby said. “I’ve gotten the Girls’ Own this far. I’m not going to abandon them now.”
That felt more like the Abby who Winter remembered. She smiled.
“This really is the last time,” Winter said. “I can’t explain everything, so don’t ask me. But if we win this time, the war will finally be over.”
“There’s never a last time,” Abby said. “But at least we’ll get a chance to rest.”
29
Marcus
Once again, the Army of the Republic was on the march.
The halt at the palace had given them a chance to rest and resupply, and consequently their appearance was much improved from the worn, bedraggled soldiers that had staggered down the Pale one step ahead of Janus’ pursuing legions. Uniforms had been cleaned and stitched, cannon polished, horses groomed, and beards shaved. There were still the little touches that spoke of troops who’d been in combat—?extra weapons tucked away, coats patched and repatched; here and there a shako, bicorn, or other souvenir taken from a luckless enemy on some distant battlefield.
Winter rode with the Second Division, at the head of the Girls’ Own. She’d objected, since she wasn’t going to be in command, but Marcus had insisted. Seeing her back at the head of her troops did wonders for morale, and it was visible in the bearing of the men and women who followed her, though Marcus did see a few curious glances at her new uniform. They’ll figure it out eventually. Abby and Cyte both rode beside her.
The First Division, Fitz’ men, were already on the road, forming the vanguard for the day’s march. Light cavalry from Give-Em-Hell’s command scouted the route ahead, while his cuirassiers brought up the rear. Vordan City had been scoured for cavalry remounts, every military stable emptied and civilian animals pressed into service. A joke said that the city cabbies were now running in the traces of their own carriages rather than give up fares; Marcus hadn’t been back to the city to see if it was true. From the surrounding farms, more animals had been gathered, heavy draft and cart horses that were to pull the guns and caissons. Raesinia had promoted Archer to colonel and given him command of the artillery reserve, though the guns they’d pulled out of the arsenals and garrisons didn’t come close to making up for those they’d lost at Alves.