Cade did not begrudge them it, but Marius’s requisition of their supplies made him uneasy—not to mention the firm grip about his shoulders as they walked through the thronging legionaries, Marius’s entourage following.

It was not long before they were walking through the doorway of the longhouse, and Marius grunted for the accompanying guards to wait outside.

He led Cade into the farthest recesses of the room, the others following. Cade could see the alarm on their faces, but Marius did not seem to mind being alone with them—at the very least, violence appeared not to be his aim.

“Sit,” Marius instructed in English, pushing Cade down onto the hunks of stone that served as seats, beside a crumbling fireplace. A small, smoldering pile of grass burned there, casting an low light through the room.

Marius groaned as he sat opposite Cade, and the others sat too, waiting for Marius to speak. Cade had no idea what he could have done wrong. Had he not caused Marius’s rise to power?

“You lied to me,” Marius said.

Cade opened his mouth, but Marius held up a hand, shaking his head.

“Do not deny it,” he said.

Then he pointed his finger over Cade’s shoulder.

Cade turned his head, and his heart fell. Even in the dim light of the longhouse, he could see what Marius had.

The explosion had sent debris flying everywhere, ash and sand included. And though it was hard to spot if you were not looking for it, a strange, half-moon shadow hung in the air, where the dust had settled on the invisible sphere that was the Codex.

“Speak,” Marius said. “Now.”

Cade wrung his hands, his mind racing. “We did not trust Atticus,” he said, stumbling over his words.

It was hard to focus with the world spinning the way it was. His throat felt like it was closing up, and it hurt to swallow. Cade could not remember when he had last had a drink of water, and the half-snatched sleep of the bumpy sled ride had done little to alleviate his exhaustion.

“What you mean is, you did not trust me,” Marius chided him, though there was an edge to his voice. “And now … I cannot trust you.”

Cade rubbed his temples, trying to think. “If we had told Atticus about the Codex, he might have taken it from us. Even killed us for it.”

Marius shrugged. “It matters not. If you tell both lies and truths, I cannot tell which you speak on other matters. Who is to say the cannons can destroy the doors of the fortress? Even Louis Le Prince said the cannons were a weapon they no longer used in his time.”

Cade hung his head. “If you want the truth, I’ll give it to you now. It’s up to you whether you trust me.”

Marius leaned back and crossed his arms, then motioned with his chin for Cade to go on.

“The cannons are old and rusted,” Cade confessed, the doubts and fears of his mind manifesting on his tongue. “I think they’ll fire, but I do not know if they will work and fire accurately, or if they do, whether they will crack or explode before a second shot.”