Page 15 of City of Secrets and Shadows (Empire of Vengeance #2)

15

I stepped into the tavern with a grimace, the sharp stench of cheap tallow candles and cheaper beer assaulting my senses. After just two days surrounded by the academy’s stark corridors and ostentatious military styled rooms, this tavern near the workers district was a stark reminder of the real Empire — the one that sweated and bled and stank. Marcus had chosen the place. Of course he had. The man spent his days elbow-deep in offal, wearing a butcher’s apron splattered with blood like some perverse badge of honour. Another escaped gladiator hiding in plain sight, chopping meat instead of men. I’d never understood how easily he seemed to adapt to civilian life.

The tavern was crowded despite the early hour, filled with labourers enjoying an afternoon drink before returning to their shops and stalls. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air, adding another layer to the already pungent atmosphere. The wooden tables were scarred from years of abuse, stained with rings from countless mugs and pitted with knife marks from drunken games.

I spotted Marcus in the corner, his hulking frame unmistakable even in the dim light. The countless scars that crisscrossed his forearms were visible as he raised a hand in greeting, a lopsided smile appearing beneath his roughly trimmed beard. Unlike me, he looked perfectly at home among these commoners, chatting easily with the serving girl who delivered a fresh pitcher to his table.

“Septimus!” he called as I approached. “Beginning to think you’d forgotten me.”

“The academy isn’t exactly generous with free time,” I replied, sliding onto the bench across from him. “Even after just two days.”

Marcus poured beer into a clay mug and slid it across the table. “How’s life as Livia’s loyal body slave? Keeping you busy?”

There was something in his tone — a hint of suggestion that made me narrow my eyes. But his expression remained innocent enough.

“Busier than you might think.” I took a long pull from the mug, grimacing at the sour taste. “Gods, what is this swill?”

“The finest this place has to offer.” Marcus laughed, the sound booming and genuine. “Some of us haven’t been sampling academy wines.”

“Two days isn’t enough to develop refined tastes,” I said dryly. “Though I won’t deny the food is better than anything we had in the pits.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between us. This was the challenge with Marcus — we’d never spent much time alone together. Our connections had always been through Livia, orbiting her like twin moons around a planet. Without her to mediate, our interactions often stalled, weighted down by the unsaid.

The serving girl returned, placing a wooden platter between us — roasted meat, a chunk of hard cheese, and bread that looked suspiciously like it had been baked yesterday.

“So,” Marcus said, tearing off a piece of bread, “how fares our noble woman at the prestigious Imperial Academy? Living up to her family name?”

“More than living up to it. More physical tests today.” I took another drink, the beer tasting marginally better now that my palate had adjusted to the sourness. “From what I’ve gathered, it’s an intensive demonstration of water manipulation that pushes even talented students to their limits.”

“She won’t fail,” Marcus said with such certainty that I almost believed him. “She never has. Not when it matters.”

I grunted in acknowledgment. He wasn’t wrong. Livia possessed a stubborn determination that bordered on the miraculous. I’d watched her overcome seemingly impossible odds before — seen her rise from defeat time and again, stronger and more resolute than before.

“How’s she handling the pressure?” Marcus asked. “The Livia I remember doesn’t cope well with the threat of failure.”

“She’s…” I paused, considering how much to share. “Tense. Focused to the point of obsession.”

“That sounds like her.”

He trailed off and for a few minutes we sat there in an uncomfortable silence.

“Something else on your mind?” Marcus asked, his tone casual but his eyes shrewd.

I hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t planned to bring it up at all. But something about sitting here with Marcus, the only other person who knew her as I did, who’d followed her as I had, broke down my usual restraint.

“We’re sleeping together,” I blurted out suddenly, immediately cursing myself inwardly.

The words hung in the air between us. I watched his reaction carefully — the subtle tightening around his eyes, the twitch of his jaw before he forced his features into neutrality. Jealousy, quickly masked. I’d expected as much.

“Ah,” he said finally, reaching for the pitcher. “I wondered when that would happen.”

“Did you?”

“Come on, Septimus.” He refilled both our mugs. “You two have been dancing around each other for years. The tension was obvious to everyone except, apparently, the two of you.”

I shrugged, affecting nonchalance. “It’s a practical arrangement. She needs release, and I’m there.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” Marcus laughed, but there was an edge to it. “That you’re just providing a service?”

“What would you have me say?” I retorted. “That I’ve wanted her since we were young? That I worship the ground she walks on?”

“Have you? Do you?”

I drank deeply rather than answer, the sour beer burning a path down my throat.

Marcus leaned forward, his voice dropping. “I was there too, remember? When she would watch you in the practice yard, making excuses to linger. When you would position yourself to always be in her line of sight. You both thought you were so subtle.”

“It didn’t matter what either of us wanted,” I said flatly.

“And why is that?”

I met his gaze, and sighed. “Her brother was my best friend. The day he died, he made me swear to protect her. I’ve been looking out for her ever since.”

Marcus’s expression softened. “You think bedding his sister dishonours that vow?”

“I think wanting her while promising to protect her creates complications I can’t afford.” I stabbed at a piece of meat with more force than necessary. “And now I’ve gone and done exactly what I swore I wouldn’t.”

“Yet here you are, still protecting her,” Marcus pointed out. “Still watching her back at the academy.”

“While watching her front at night,” I muttered, then winced at my own crudeness. “Gods, I didn’t mean—”

Marcus burst into laughter, loud enough to draw glances from nearby tables. “By Jupiter’s cock, Septimus, I’ve never known you to be so conflicted about bedding a woman. Especially one who clearly wants you as much as you want her.”

I shifted uncomfortably, my fingers tracing the rim of my mug. “You don’t mix duty with desire. Not if you want to do either properly.”

Marcus snorted. “That’s horseshit and you know it.”

“Is it?” I shot back. “I’ve seen what happens when men lose focus. In the arena, that gets you killed. With Livia…” I trailed off, the words catching in my throat.

“With Livia, what?” Marcus pressed, leaning forward.

“With Livia, the stakes are higher.” I met his gaze. “You’ve seen the enemies she’s made. The danger she courts. One moment of distraction could cost her everything.”

Marcus studied me, his dark eyes unreadable in the tavern’s dim light. Finally, he sighed. “And yet here you are, sharing her bed anyway.”

“Here I am,” I agreed, the admission hanging heavy between us.

The silence stretched, broken only by the raucous laughter from a nearby table where men were gambling with worn dice.The din of the tavern faded to a dull hum as my thoughts drifted back to last night. Livia’s chambers at the academy were sparse but private — a small mercy in our charade of servant and noble student. I hadn’t meant for it to happen. For years, I’d maintained the careful distance that duty required but I was a man not a god, and those years had finally worn down my resolve. I could still feel her skin beneath my fingertips, taste the salt of her neck. The way she’d whispered my name like a secret prayer.

Morning had brought shame, seeping in with the dawn light. Tarus had trusted me to protect his sister, not bed her. I’d sworn an oath to a dying man, my closest friend, and broken it in the most fundamental way. Yet beneath the shame lurked a certainty that terrified me more — I would return to her tonight, and every night she would have me. Whatever barriers I’d built had crumbled completely, and I lacked the strength to rebuild them. Perhaps I always had. Marcus drained his mug and poured another, his movements deliberate.

“I care for her too, you know,” I said quietly. “It’s not just about the fucking.”

“I know. My question is, where do I fit into all of this?”

Ah. There it was. “That’s up to Livia, isn’t it? I have no claim on her decisions.”

“Noble of you,” he said dryly.

“Practical,” I corrected. “She’s been with you before. I assume she’ll want to be with you again.”

Marcus studied me for a long moment. “And that doesn’t bother you? The thought of her in my bed?”

“Does it bother you to think of her in mine?”

A wry smile twisted his lips. “Touché.”

We fell silent again, both contemplating the strange triangle we found ourselves in. I picked at the food, no longer hungry.

“Perhaps,” Marcus said eventually, his tone deliberately casual, “there are arrangements that could accommodate all parties.”

I glanced up sharply, catching his meaning. “All three of us. Together.”

He shrugged, but I didn’t miss the heat that flashed in his eyes at the suggestion. “If she were amenable. It wouldn’t be without precedent.”

The image formed unbidden in my mind — Livia between us, all barriers finally dropped. It was a potent thought, one that sent heat coursing through my veins. But it also stirred something darker, more possessive.

“Perhaps,” I allowed, noncommittal. “If that’s what she wants.”

Marcus nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer. We drank in silence for a moment, the awkwardness of our conversation gradually fading as the alcohol took effect.

“There’s another matter,” I said finally, setting down my mug with deliberate care. “The half-breed.”

Marcus’s expression immediately closed off. “Tarshi. His name is Tarshi.”

“I don’t care what his name is. He’s a problem.”

“How so?”

I leaned forward, lowering my voice further. “He watches her. Follows her like a dog. It’s obvious he lusts after her.”

Marcus’s eyebrows rose. “And this concerns you why? Livia can handle unwanted attention.”

“It’s a security risk,” I insisted. “His feelings could cloud his judgment, compromise his loyalty. He needs to be removed from the equation.”

“Removed?” Marcus repeated carefully.

“This district is dangerous. Robberies happen every day. Bodies are found in the canals.” I held his gaze steadily. “You have connections here. It could be arranged to look like an unfortunate incident.”

Marcus stared at me, his expression hardening. “You’re suggesting we have Tarshi murdered.”

“I’m suggesting we eliminate a potential threat before it becomes an actual problem.”

“No.” The word was final, brooking no argument. “Absolutely not.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve grown fond of the half-breed,” I sneered.

“His name is Tarshi,” Marcus repeated firmly. “And yes, I’ve grown to respect him. He’s loyal, skilled, and devoted to Livia. That makes him an asset, not a liability.”

“He’s Talfen,” I spat the word like the curse it was. “You can’t trust them. They’re treacherous by nature.”

Marcus studied me, his head tilted slightly. “What is it about the Talfen that bothers you so much, Septimus? This goes beyond the usual Imperial prejudice.”

I looked away, focusing on the scarred tabletop. I hadn’t intended to have this conversation, but the beer had loosened my tongue more than I’d realized.

“They’re the reason my family is dead,” I said finally, my voice flat.

Marcus waited, knowing there was more.

“Livia’s father was a minor official in a northern province, near the Talfen border. He believed in peaceful coexistence, thought we could learn from them.” I laughed bitterly. “He invited Talfen representatives to a secret meeting place outside the village, discussed trade agreements, cultural exchanges. Called them ‘friends.’ ”

I took another drink, the memories rising like bile. “When the Emperor learned of these unauthorized negotiations, he made an example of Livia’s father. Imperial soldiers came and killed everyone — her father, mother, her brother.”

“She told me.”

I met his gaze evenly. “Did she also mention they killed everyone in the village too? Did she tell you how they piled the bodies in the centre of the village?”

“She did,” he said quietly.

“I lost my mother and two younger sisters,” I said, staring past him, not really seeing the room beyond. “My father had died of a wasting sickness two storms before and he’d told me it was my duty to look after them all. I failed them, and they were killed.”

“I’m sorry,” Marcus said quietly. “That’s a terrible loss.”

“Livia blames the soldiers, the Emperor.” I traced a knife mark on the table. “But if the Talfen hadn’t been there, tempting her father with their false promises of alliance, none of it would have happened. The Emperor was just doing what any ruler would do — protecting his borders from potential insurrection.”

Marcus frowned. “That’s a peculiar way to view it. The Emperor ordered your family’s execution, yet you blame the Talfen?”

“I blame her father’s naivety,” I corrected. “And yes, I blame the Talfen for exploiting it. They knew what would happen if the Emperor discovered their meetings. They didn’t care.”

“That’s quite an assumption.”

“Is it?” I challenged. “Look at the half-breed. He pretends loyalty to Livia, but how can we trust him? His people have warred with ours for centuries. Blood tells, Marcus. Always.”

Marcus was quiet for a long moment, turning his mug between his hands. Finally, he asked, “Does Livia know? About your family?”

“Some of it. Not all.”

“Does she know you don’t share her hatred of the Emperor? That you actually defend his actions?”

I stared down into my mug, considering his words. Sometimes I wonder if she knew how deep this divide between us runs — her burning hatred for the Emperor, my silent understanding of his actions. Every time she speaks of vengeance, of making him pay for what happened to our village, I nod and agree while part of me believes he was simply enforcing the Empire’s laws. It’s the one betrayal I allow myself in my devotion to her. The one place where my loyalty falters, even as I would die for her without hesitation. Loving someone who seeks vengeance against a man you don’t truly blame — there’s a special kind of torment in that contradiction. But I’ve learned to bury it deep, beneath layers of duty and desire. What matters is keeping her alive, not aligning our beliefs.

I fixed him with a hard stare. “It doesn’t matter what I think of the Emperor. My loyalty is to Livia. I failed my family, I refuse to fail her. Where she goes, I go. What she wants, I help her achieve. It’s that simple.”

“Even if you disagree with her cause?”

“Even then.” I leaned back, crossing my arms. “I’ve spent my life fighting other men’s battles for other men’s causes. At least with Livia, I choose my service.”

Marcus nodded slowly, understanding. “We share that much, then. A desire to keep her safe, despite her best efforts to get herself killed.”

A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. “She does make it challenging, doesn’t she?”

“Gods, yes.” His own smile faded as he took another drink. “About Tarshi — what makes you so certain he harbours feelings for Livia? Beyond your general distrust of his kind.”

I scoffed. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes. The way he watches her when he thinks no one is looking. How he positions himself near her in any room. His eagerness to please her, to earn her approval.”

“That could just be loyalty,” Marcus suggested.

“It’s more than that.” I leaned forward, my voice hardening. “I’ve seen how he tenses when I touch her. The jealousy in his eyes when we speak intimately. He wants her. And it disgusts me.”

Marcus tilted his head, studying me. “Interesting. You almost sound... threatened.”

“By a half-breed?” I scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Then why does it bother you so much?”

I glared at him. “Because his presence endangers Livia. His feelings are a distraction, a weakness that could compromise our mission.”

“Hmm.” Marcus stroked his beard thoughtfully. “And what about Livia? Have you considered how she feels about him?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s very protective of Tarshi,” he pointed out. “More so than one might expect of a mere bodyguard.”

The suggestion sent a cold spike through me. “She pities him. Nothing more.”

“Are you sure? She defends him constantly, keeps him close. She trusts him with her life.”

“That doesn’t mean she’d lower herself to—” I couldn’t even finish the sentence, the very notion repulsive.

“Lower herself?” Marcus raised an eyebrow. “I’m simply suggesting that her feelings might be more complex than you assume. Livia has never cared much for Imperial prejudices, after all.”

The image of Livia and Tarshi together flashed through my mind — his dark hands on her golden skin, his lips on hers — and I felt bile rise in my throat.

“Impossible,” I said flatly. “She would never.”

Marcus shrugged, maddeningly calm. “As you say. I merely observe what I see.”

I drained the last of my beer and stood abruptly. “I should get back. Livia will be finishing her training soon.”

Marcus nodded, making no move to rise. “Tell her I miss her. And that my door is always open.”

“I’ll pass along the message.” I tossed a few coins on the table, more than the poor fare deserved.

As I turned to leave, Marcus caught my arm. “Septimus.”

I looked back, questioning.

“Be careful with this hatred you carry,” he said quietly. 2It blinds you to possibilities. And in our line of work, blindness gets you killed.”

I pulled my arm free without responding and pushed my way through the crowded tavern, eager for fresh air. Outside, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the narrow street. The market was beginning to close up for the day, vendors calling out final discounts on their wares.

I set off toward the academy, my thoughts churning uneasily. Marcus’s words had planted a seed I couldn’t easily dismiss. Livia and Tarshi. The idea was absurd, repugnant — and yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Had I missed something? Those private training sessions on the journey to the capital. The whispered conversations that stopped when I approached. The way she defended him so fiercely against any criticism.

No. I was being paranoid. Livia would never betray me like that — betray her own kind like that. She might be rebellious, might scorn many Imperial traditions, but surely even she had limits.

And yet... the doubt lingered, growing with each step I took. By the time the academy’s white spires came into view, it had bloomed into something darker, more possessive. I would watch them more carefully now, note every interaction, every glance.

And if my suspicions proved correct? Well, there were ways to deal with half-breeds that required no assistance from Marcus. Ways I knew intimately from my years in the arena.

The thought should have brought me comfort. Instead, it left me feeling hollow as I passed through the academy gates, returning to the woman who held my loyalty — and, though I’d never admit it aloud, my heart — in her hands.