Page 181 of The Infernal Battalion

“I suspected as much,” Sothe said, her face impassive. “I understand the risks.”

“It’s not a risk,” Winter said. “It’s a certainty.”

“The certainties, then.”

There was a pause. Sothe shifted slightly.

“Why?” Winter said.

“Because I am the logical choice,” Sothe said. “I am highly skilled in combat, I do not have my own demon, and I hope that my loyalty is beyond question.”

“What about Raesinia? Have you told her?” Winter watched Sothe’s face and saw the tiniest flicker. “You haven’t, have you?”

“She wouldn’t understand,” Sothe said. “She believes she cannot do without me.”

“I’ve seen what you can do,” Winter said. “Are you sure she’s wrong?”

“Yes.”

The word was a hiss. Sothe retreated a step, her face shadowed.

“I’m sorry,” Sothe said, into the silence that followed. “But you don’t understand, either. Not really. You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“I’ve done things I regret,” Winter said.

“But at the time, you believed they were necessary. Even if you turned out to be mistaken.” Sothe shook her head. “I have no such defense.”

Winter regarded the assassin curiously. “I didn’t think you had pangs of conscience.”

“I spent years rooting them out. When I left the Concordat and joined Raesinia, I... worried. She looked up to me. I didn’t want her to become... like I was.”

“She’s not,” Winter said. It was strange, hearing Sothe talk like this. She could feel the emotion in the words, trapped behind her flat affect and iron composure. “You know she’s not.”

“I know. Instead I have become more like her. Better. But it leaves me... torn. For a time I thought I could make amends.”

“Like by finding me for Marcus?”

Sothe nodded. “But I was wrong. There are no amends, no cleaning of the slate. Only doing the most you can do, beginning now. And this is something I can do. If we win, Raesinia will not need me at her side any longer. And if we lose...” Another slight smile. “Then it won’t matter.”

“It doesn’t have to be you,” Winter said after another silence. “We could find—”

“Who? Some poor woman from the Girls’ Own, who’d do it out of devotion to her general?”

Winter winced. “I didn’t mean—”

“Someone who doesn’t believe in magic?” Sothe went on inexorably. “Someone who might panic at the very idea of the Beast, let alone transforming herself into—”

“All right,” Winter said. “I get it.”

“Good.” Sothe straightened. “I apologize again, for my... outburst.”

“I suppose I never thought about things from your perspective,” Winter said, scratching the back of her neck.

“I have never required sympathy,” Sothe said. “Nor do I need it now.” She paused. “But I do request one favor.”

“Favor?”

“Do not tell Marcus.”