XXXIII.
Fort Kartiz had fallen. And although it was a truly momentous day for Neimi's men, while they all cheered and drank and ate freely from Kartiz's storehouse, Gaius found Neimi herself off sulking alone in the captain's chambers.
"He got away," she said, shaking her head. "I had him, I stared him right in the face, and yet..."
Gaius said nothing, letting his eyes be drawn to Donadio's painting, still wet on the easel, of a handsome man with blond hair posing regally in an Ankh Captain's uniform.
"My father didn't die at the siege," Neimi seethed. "That sick bastard took him prisoner. Tortured him for weeks. Next we found him hung on a cross in the middle of town one morning. His neck was slit...and his face was so cut up...that we could barely even recognize him at first."
Gaius turned away, thinking she wouldn't want him to see her cry.
