Page 180 of The Infernal Battalion

Winter opened her eyes. Ennika was pale, her face beaded with sweat. When Winter let go of her hand, it flopped limply to her side. But she was still breathing, quick and shallow.

“That was... difficult to watch,” Feor said. She was hugging herself. “For all that it may be our savior, Winter, your naath is... unpleasant.”

“I believe it.” Winter looked down at her bleeding hand. “Do you think she’ll be all right?”

“I have no idea.” Feor looked down at Ennika and shook her head. “My students and I will care for her body as best we can, but the damage is in her mind and soul.”

Winter nodded grimly. I doubt even Abraham can do much about that. She got to her feet, feeling weary. “Let me know if she improves, or wakes up.”

“I will.” Feor paused. “And... the other matter?”

“I’ll send you a volunteer,” Winter said.

“I will be ready.” Feor fixed her with a firm gaze. “Do not lie to them, Winter. They must know that there is no coming back from this.”

Winter nodded.

*

The Grenadier Guard outside Cyte’s quarters told Winter that Cyte was with Marcus, working on battle plans. Winter felt odd being there alone, like an uninvited guest in someone else’s house, but as far as she knew no one had assigned her quarters of her own. Not that we’ll be here for long. Talk was that Marcus wanted the army on the move in the next few days, to begin preparing the position he had selected to make a stand.

There wasn’t much of Cyte’s in the room, in truth, just the same few pieces of kit that she’d have with her in the field. The rest was palace furniture, solid and expensive, that looked badly out of place beside Cyte’s battered writing desk and pack. Winter’s own pack sat beside it, representing the sum total of her worldly possessions—​a few scraps of clothing, her knives, cooking gear, and other odds and ends. She wondered what had happened to the rest of her things, everything that had been in her tent when she’d set out to the north. Did they leave them behind in the retreat? Or are they packed away in some warehouse, lost in the army bureaucracy? There hadn’t been anything she particularly cared about, apart from a few souvenirs and her hand-​tailored uniforms. And I suppose I won’t be needing those anymore, will I?

It felt too early in the evening to go to sleep, but Winter didn’t feel awake enough to do anything else. She sat at the big table and tried to read a few reports from Cyte’s piles, but she could feel her mind wandering before she managed more than a couple of sentences. The second time her eyelids slipped closed, she leaned back in the chair with an exasperated sigh.

“Winter,” said Sothe. “I need to speak with you.”

Winter turned, startled but not really surprised to find Sothe in the room. The assassin stood by the window in her customary black.

“There’s nothing to stop you from using the door, you know,” Winter said.

“I prefer to remain unobserved,” Sothe said. Then, with a slight smile, she added, “And it is important to hone one’s skills whenever the opportunity presents itself.”

“Your dedication is admirable.” Winter gestured to the seat opposite her. “I’d offer you a drink, but these are Cyte’s rooms, and I have no idea where to find anything.”

“Thank you, but there’s no need.” Sothe walked to the table but remained standing, her lithe body preternaturally still. “You spoke to Marcus.”

It wasn’t a question. “I did. I don’t think he took it well.”

“Give him time. It’s quite a shock we’ve given him.”

“I suppose.” Winter looked down at the table, which was covered with reports. The letters were blurred into incomprehensibility. “It just feels strange. It matters so much to him, and I... I don’t even know what it means to be someone’s sister.”

“I am confident you will come to an understanding.”

“Assuming any of us survive the next few days, you mean?”

“Yes. And that is why I have come.” Sothe shifted, one hand on her hip. “You are looking for a host for the Caryatid, Feor’s power, to help you find and destroy the Beast. I volunteer.”

Winter stared at her. Of the hundred questions she had, she blurted out the first that came to mind. “How can you know that?”

“Deduction, for the most part. I have heard you tell your story of what happened in Elysium, and I knew of Bobby’s unique condition. When you went to see Feor...” She shrugged. “Information is my stock-in-trade, after all.”

“Then you know what we’re asking,” Winter said.

“You need someone to undergo the same ritual Bobby did.”

“And there’s no coming back. Bobby...” Winter hesitated. “When Bobby was transformed, she saved my life. By the time I woke up, she was... gone.”