Chapter 5 Fiery
Killian POV
I walked my emerald-eyed beauty back to Godfirth, bound her wrists myself, and placed her under his watch.
My fingers lingered on the rope for half a heartbeat longer than necessary before I stepped away.
It was a mistake.
Every instinct and desire told me to look back.
I refused.
If I looked at her again—really looked—I feared whatever strange lapse had seized me in that alley would only tighten its grip. I did not understand what had happened between us. She should have been another Roman soldier to disarm, another prisoner to secure.
Instead, I could still feel the weight of her body against mine when I had caught her. Still hear the challenge in her voice. Still see those impossible green eyes glaring into mine as though she believed I was the one who should answer for this invasion.
Distance.
Distance was the only thing that made sense.
I had an invasion to lead.
That truth settled across my shoulders like a familiar cloak, welcome in its certainty.
Rome had never been part of our original campaign. We had come to answer some attacks on our seaside villages. But Sulpicius’s blade had changed everything.
The Roman commander’s arrogance.
His refusal to negotiate.
The murder of Chief Brennus’s envoy.
One stroke of steel had extinguished diplomacy and lit a fire that now consumed half of Italy.
The moment Brennus’s man had fallen, so had every hope of peace.
Now we stood inside Roman walls.
I had been ordered to clear the eastern quarter.
Instead…
I had found her.
A complication.
A distraction.
A woman who fought with the confidence of a veteran and insulted men twice her size without a flicker of hesitation.
I still couldn’t decide which disturbed me more.
I scrubbed a hand through my beard as I walked, forcing my thoughts toward matters that actually deserved my attention.
The streets lay in uneasy silence.
Rome had not withdrawn with discipline. It was not a coordinated evacuation.
It had fled.
Evidence of panic laid strewn about.
Not retreat.
People had left believing they would return within hours.
Instead, my warriors now occupied their homes.
Several of my men emerged from buildings carrying sacks of grain, amphorae of oil, blankets, dried herbs—anything useful for an army that had marched farther than most believed possible.
Yet there was no shouting.
No drunken celebration.
No pointless destruction.
Good.
Discipline was harder to build than courage.
Any fool could fight.
Keeping thousands of armed warriors under control required something else entirely.
It required trust.
And fear.
A young warrior jogged toward me.
“Commander.”
“What is it?”
“We found wine.”
“I’m sure you did.”
The grin faded from his face.
“Seal the cellar.”
He blinked.
“But—”
“No man drinks before tomorrow’s assault.”
A hint of disappointment crossed his face.
“It dulls judgment.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“If I smell wine on your breath before sunrise, I’ll have you digging latrines until winter.”
His shoulders straightened immediately.
“Understood.”
He hurried away.
Some commanders ruled by affection.
Others ruled by terror.
The strongest knew when to use both.
My thoughts betrayed me again.
Would she have obeyed an order like that?
No.
She would have argued.
Probably called me insufferable.
Then obeyed anyway…
…if she believed it was the right decision.
The realization irritated me.
Why was I still thinking about her?
A captain approached with several officers behind him.
“No civilians found, Commander,” he reported. “The district’s empty. They’ve abandoned everything.”
“Cowards. They did not even try to defend their homes.”
“But toward the center…” He pointed down the main avenue. “There’s another wall.”
I followed his gesture.
Even from here I could see it.
A massive internal defensive wall stretching across the city.
The gates were shut.
Heavy beams reinforced them from inside.
“They’ve fallen back.”
“Aye.”
“Civilians?”
“Likely behind it.”
“And soldiers.”
“Yes.”
I studied the structure in silence.
Whoever commanded the Romans inside still possessed enough discipline to consolidate rather than scatter.
Good.
It meant tomorrow would not be easy.
Easy victories made careless armies.
“Report.”
Another captain stepped forward.
“The western approaches are narrow. Good ground for archers.”
“So we don’t attack there.”
“No.”
“The eastern foundations have settled.”
Now that interested me.
“Show me.”
He knelt, sketching quickly in the dirt with the point of his dagger.
“The wall sits here. Drainage has washed away part of the foundation.”
I crouched beside him.
The drawing wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.
“If we bring rams straight at the gate…”
“They’ll expect it.”
“They’re counting on it.” I respond.
I tapped the weakened section instead.
“We make them think we’re committed to the gate.”
Understanding spread across their faces.
“Then strike here.”
“Exactly.”
Another officer frowned.
“It’s still thick stone.”
“So is every wall.” Another soldier piped in.
Silence.
“We don’t need to destroy it.” I explained.
I looked at each man in turn.
“We only need to make enough Romans abandon the gate to reinforce this section.”
Their expressions shifted.
Now they saw it.
“Once they move…”
“The gate becomes vulnerable!” A young solder exclaimed, realization gleaming in his eyes.
I smiled.
“There you are.”
This was war.
Not brute force.
Pressure.
Misdirection.
Making the enemy choose which mistake would kill them.
“Set camp three streets back. Five sentries at all times. Double the watches before dawn. No fires higher than a man’s knee. Scouts at every approach. If anyone sees movement beyond those gates, I know before the man has time to blink.” I instruct.
The captains answered together.
“Yes, Chief Killian.”
They dispersed without another question.
That, more than anything, reminded me how far we had come.
We had some fresh soldiers with us on this expedition. They had never had to follow orders in a life or death situation.
Now they moved like parts of the same body.
Because they trusted me.
That trust carried a weight heavier than any sword.
Tomorrow I would ask them to charge Roman walls.
Some of them would not survive to see another sunrise.
I intended to ensure as many as possible did.
The thought settled heavily inside me.
Exhaustion tugged at every muscle.
We had scarcely slept in two days.
The march.
The assault.
The chaos.
Steel ringing against shields.
Carnyxes shrieking across the hills to increase unease in the Romans.
Victory always demanded payment.
The only question was how much.
My feet carried me back before I consciously decided to return.
I rounded the corner…
…and stopped.
Alexandria sat with her back against a crumbling wall.
Wrists bound.
Ankles tied.
A strip of cloth secured across her mouth.
Six feet away stood Barrfind.
Bleeding.
Scowling.
His nose looked as though someone had struck it with a hammer.
Blood soaked his beard and dripped steadily onto the stones below.
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Oh, for the love of the gods…”
Barrfind shifted uncomfortably.
“I can explain.”
“I sincerely hope not.”
“Godfirth.”
My oldest friend appeared almost immediately.
Calm.
Collected.
Entirely too amused.
“You’ve seen this already.”
“I have.”
“What happened?”
Godfirth folded his arms.
“Barrfind returned from patrol.”
“I gathered that.”
“He noticed your prisoner.”
“I gathered that too.”
“He announced rather loudly that once the campaign was over he’d like first claim.”
My jaw hardened.
Around us, several nearby warriors suddenly found fascinating reasons to look elsewhere.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Godfirth continued in that same maddeningly even voice.
“Your Roman informed him he was welcome to try.”
I already knew this wasn’t ending well.
“Then she observed that she doubted he’d be large enough for her to notice.”
Silence.
I stared at Alexandria.
She stared right back.
Even gagged, I could see the satisfaction dancing in her eyes.
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
Short.
Sharp.
Completely inappropriate.
Godfirth’s mouth twitched.
Barrfind looked deeply offended; shooting furious glares at feisty woman.
“She doesn’t know when to stop talking.”
“No,” Godfirth agreed. “She truly doesn’t.”
“What happened next?”
“Barrfind attempted to educate her.”
“And?”
“She broke his nose.”
“With her hands tied.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Palm strike.”
Godfirth shrugged.
“Remarkably clean.”
I looked from Barrfind…
…to her.
Then back again.
“I assume he touched her.”
Barrfind hesitated.
“I grabbed her shoulder.”
I stepped closer.
“You were given a direct order.”
He swallowed.
“She insulted me,” he growled.
“And?”
“I thought—”
“That is where you failed.”
My voice remained quiet.
That frightened men far more than shouting ever could.
“My prisoner belongs to me.”
No one mistook what I meant.
“I decide who questions her.”
“I decide who guards her.”
“And if any man lays a hand on her without my permission…”
I let the sentence hang.
Barrfind’s face paled despite the blood covering it.
“I understand,” he managed through gritted teeth.
“No.”
I stepped closer until only inches separated us.
“You don’t.”
The street had fallen completely silent.
“We are not animals.”
Every man within earshot heard me.
“We conquer because we are disciplined. If word spreads that my warriors cannot control themselves around one bound woman, then we deserve to lose.”
No one argued.
Because they knew I was right.
I looked at Barrfind one final time.
“You’ll spend tonight on the outer watch.”
“My nose—”
“You should have thought about that before introducing it to her hand.”
A few snorts of laughter escaped nearby warriors.
Barrfind wisely said nothing more; he just kept glowering at the ground.
I turned toward her.
She hadn’t looked away once.
There was surprise in her expression now.
Not because I had punished Barrfind.
Because I had done it publicly.
Because I had chosen discipline over pride.
Interesting.
I crouched before her.
Up close, I noticed another smear of dirt across her cheek.
A small cut near her temple.
Loose strands of dark hair escaped her braid.
She looked exhausted.
She also looked fully prepared to headbutt me.
I untied the gag.
She drew a deep breath.
“If that bleeding idiot comes anywhere near me again,” she said immediately, “I’ll make sure the next thing I break isn’t his nose.”
Several nearby warriors coughed to hide laughter.
“I don’t doubt it.”
“You shouldn’t.”
She lifted her chin.
“Untie me.”
“No.”
“You’ve already established I can defend myself.”
“Against one fool.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“Only one?”
Despite myself…
I smiled.
It vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.
“You enjoy making things difficult.”
“I enjoy people underestimating me,” she retorted.
“That much is obvious.”
“And yet you keep doing it.”
I studied her for a long moment.
“No.”
I spoke quietly.
“I don’t think I am anymore.”
For the first time since we’d met…
She had no answer.
Only silence.
I reached down and sliced through the ropes binding her ankles.
She blinked.
“Your wrists stay tied.”
“I figured.”
“I’d rather not carry you.”
“We finally agree on something,” she snaps.
I pulled her upright.
She lost her balance immediately.
Instinct took over.
I caught her.
Again.
She steadied herself against my chest for the briefest moment.
Too close.
Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her despite the cool evening air.
Close enough to catch the faint scent of smoke and crushed rosemary lingering in her hair.
Close enough that the world seemed to narrow to the space between us.
She pushed away first.
Hard.
I let her.
Mostly.
“I’m moving you.”
“Away from that big oaf?”
“Away from everyone.”
Her brows drew together.
“Why?”
Because I don’t trust them.
Because I don’t trust myself.
Because every instinct I possess tells me something terrible will happen if I leave you here.
Instead I said the only answer that made sense.
“I’m responsible for my prisoners.”
She watched me for another long moment.
She didn’t believe that was the whole truth.
The unsettling part…
Neither did I.
I guided her through the growing camp. More clans and their leaders were joining the search.
Warriors paused as we passed.
Some looked curious.
Others confused.
None dared question me.
Good.
Let them wonder.
Tomorrow they would need clear heads for battle, not gossip.
I led her toward a quiet corner near my own command tent, where only my personal guard kept watch.
Safer.
More controlled.
More dangerous for reasons I refused to examine.
I had no plan beyond getting her away from Barrfind.
No strategy.
No carefully weighed decision.
Only instinct.
Instinct had kept me alive since I was twelve.
It had carried me through battles, betrayals, and winters that should have killed me.
Yet this instinct made no sense at all.
I did not make exceptions.
I did not allow emotion to interfere with command.
I certainly did not rearrange an entire camp because of one Roman prisoner.
And yet…
Here she was.
Walking beside me.
Hands bound.
Head held high.
Still somehow carrying herself like she was the one escorting me.
The realization should have amused me.
Instead, it vexed me more than any legion of enemies ever had.
