Praetorian Rising, стр. 43

twenty years he'd known him; he reminded Vesyon of himself. The pain in Phillip's eyes undoubtedly mirrored what Vesyon carried in his own, and sometimes they'd catch one another in a moment of vulnerable reminiscing when verbal explanations weren't necessary. They would nod in understanding and walk the opposite direction—it was the common courtesy of men who knew what it felt like to lose someone they'd truly loved.

Tonight, however, Phillip wasn't in the mood to leave Vesyon alone. Their problems had exploded overnight with Camille's arrival. It hadn't been a part of their plan, and as usual, things had gotten a little out of control.

Once Vesyon was satisfied with the amount of tobacco wedged into his pipe, he pulled out a small match and flicked the end along the edge of his flint stone. He then dragged in a satisfying amount of smoke, hoping it might ease the turmoil broiling inside him.

"You should've left her there or had Neeko take her back," Phillip said, pacing over the shaggy blue rug he kept dead center in his office. "There was no reason to bring her here."

"I didn't have a choice." He braced himself for the sharp response he knew he’d receive from Phillip. They both knew that statement was a lie. Instead of making the smarter choice he’d made a selfish one.

Phillip shook his head vehemently in response. "No, Captain. You had a choice. You should've sent her back!"

He couldn't help but smile at Phillip's name for him; he never could call him Vesyon in front of their own Rogues. It's demeaning; you are above them in rank, it must be noted, he would say whenever Vesyon asked he call him by his first name. Vesyon would always ask him if the Rogues thought it strange their General would take orders from a mere Captain, but Phillip would shrug off the question as though it wasn't a matter to bother with.

"Sending her back would have made things worse, not to mention more difficult on Peter. I had to take her with me. Then there’s Grenswald, whowould have notified Alpha Quarter that he found a Praetorian in Sierra Village. It doesn't matter that he didn't know who she was—the Equestrians would've found her there, and I wouldn't have been able to protect her. Not with what we have coming our way. Now that she’s here, we will have to improvise."

The shaggy rug's tufts of blue cotton shifted beneath Phillip's feet, victim to his endless pacing. The poor blue carpet was now tattered and browning around the edges. It'd seen better days. As it were, it endured Phillip's rapid stomping with the relaxed ease only a worn carpet could manage.

"Fine," Phillip finally conceded, halting in his movement. "You brought her here, so now what? Keep her in her room to make sure no one sees her?"

"That's impossible; she's more stubborn than her mother ever was," Vesyon said, the ghost of a smile flitting across his lips at such a mention. Thinking of Jesabelle was like listening to the wild rush of the forest during a storm.  At times it was quiet and enabled him to think clearly. The winds would dip through the hanging boughs of pine, willow, and birch like a mournful whisper. The ache in his chest pressing on him like a bruise, making it impossible to breathe. Other times, it would rip through the canopy in a crescendo, the cadence of fury bursting out of him in a vicious rage.

In this moment, the storm ceased. He cherished these moments as much as they caused him to recoil. In seeing Jesabelle, he always inevitably turned his thoughts toward Camille. She was every bit her mother, so much so that he could swear she was Jesabelle at times. The auburn hair, emerald eyes, alabaster skin—it was almost impossible to separate the two of them in his mind. If Vesyon were honest with himself, he'd admit to bringing Camille along not because he thought it was safer for her, it was because he needed her.

Pulling his mind away from the longing he felt for Jesabelle, and the similarities Camille embodied, Vesyon packed another round of tobacco into his pipe and repeated the drugging ritual he so desperately needed.

"You're pretty transparent when you think about her, you know," Phillip said, staring Vesyon straight in the face.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Lie to me all you want, Captain, just as long as you're not lying to yourself. They're practically twins."

Vesyon blinked, willing his features to remain impassive. "Yeah, sure. They do look similar, but I know Camille isn't her mother. I brought her to Romeo because I made a promise to keep her safe. That's it," he said in a tone that clearly meant the topic was no longer up for discussion.

"What'd you tell her?" Phillip asked, tracking a new path across the cement floor.

Vesyon quirked a brow in irritation at the General before lighting the blackened embers of his overstuffed pipe. "She believes the Equestrians are only coming for her."

Palpable pressure filled the room. "Wow, Captain. I believe you've outdone yourself."

"I can't very well tell her the truth! Camille and many others would think it all incredibly ill-advised."

Phillip grunted in response, his head bobbing like a cork in a barrel of water. "They wouldn't exactly be wrong. It's a terrible plan."

Vesyon's glare sharpened in exasperation. "You agreed to it."

"Aye, I did. Doesn't mean it isn't bloody idiotic."

"Look," Vesyon huffed, "it's simple. We know that LeMarc is in search of Ephidra Lily."

"Yes, you've told me. Though I don't know where you got that information."

"From Langhorn, the royal physician."

"I know who Langhorn is you dolt," Phillip said under his breath. Vesyon ignored the obvious jab and continued.

"He told me LeMarc would be moving forward with his plan when he sent out for Ephidra Lily."

"What plan?" Phillip replied, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Vesyon hadn't exactly shared his entire vault of information with Phillip, and he was beginning to see it hadn't been such a great idea