Page 17 of City of Secrets and Shadows (Empire of Vengeance #2)

17

I staggered through the academy corridors, water still dripping from my hair and clothes, leaving a trail of shame behind me with every squelching step. My lungs burned — not from the near-drowning, but from the effort of holding back tears. Each breath came ragged and shallow as I fought to maintain composure, even with no one to witness my breakdown. The weight of dozens of eyes still clung to me, heavier than my sodden tunic — Valeria’s smirk cutting deeper than any gladiatorial blade, the instructors’ disappointed frowns, and worst of all, the fleeting moment when Jalend had looked at me with something that wasn’t quite pity before his face closed off again. My fingers trembled as I pushed open the door to my chambers, the sound of whispers still echoing in my ears like the cruel laughter of ghosts. Desert rat. Fraud. Imposter. They weren’t wrong.

My chambers felt hollow and empty when I entered. No Septimus waiting to lecture me about caution. No Tarshi to offer quiet comfort. I hadn’t seen him since the night before when I’d chosen Septimus over him — again. The hurt in his eyes haunted me now, adding another layer to my shame. I’d wounded someone who cared for me, and for what? To please a man who couldn’t decide if he wanted to protect me or control me?

I peeled off my wet tunic and let it fall to the floor, too exhausted to care about the puddle it created on the polished stone. My body ached from the struggle in the water, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the weight of failure pressing down on my chest.

“What was I thinking?” I whispered to the empty room, sinking onto the edge of my bed. “A provincial slave playing at being a noble. A desert girl who can’t even swim.”I’d failed. They’d never let me in now. I’d failed the trials, and it had all been for nothing. I would never get my vengeance now. How was I going to tell them all? After everything they’d done, everything they’d all gone through to help me. I’d failed them, and somehow that felt the worst of it.

The worst part was that I couldn’t even blame anyone else. My inability to swim wasn’t something the nobles had done to me — it was simply a gap in my education, a product of growing up in a desert province where water was too precious to waste on swimming lessons. I was the impostor they all suspected me to be.

A soft knock at the door startled me from my spiral of self-recrimination.

“Just a moment,” I called, fumbling for a simple tunic to cover myself.

When I opened the door, Octavia stood there, a basket of linens in her arms — her standard excuse for visiting my chambers. One look at my face and her practiced servant’s smile vanished.

“Gods’ breath, what happened to you?” She pushed past me into the room, setting down her basket and closing the door firmly behind her.

“I failed,” I said simply. “The water trial. Turns out slaves from desert provinces don’t typically learn to swim.”

Octavia’s eyes widened. “Are you alright? Physically, I mean.”

“Wet. Humiliated. My pride is mortally wounded, but the rest of me will survive.”

She took in my damp hair, the puddle on the floor, and the defeated slump of my shoulders. Then she sighed, a determined glint entering her eye that I recognized from our days training together. It was the look she got right before she decided something had to change.

“Right. You’re taking the rest of the day off.”

I laughed bitterly. “I don’t think the academy allows days off for humiliation recovery.”

“I wasn’t asking permission.” She began rummaging through my clothing chest. “Where’s that plain stola I helped you mend last week? The one without all the ridiculous embroidery that nobles seem to think necessary?”

“Octavia—”

“Don’t ‘Octavia’ me.” She emerged triumphant with the simple garment. “You need a day away from this place. From being Livia Cantius, the noble dragon rider candidate. Just a few hours to remember who you really are.”

“And who is that, exactly?” The question slipped out before I could stop it, heavy with all my doubts.

Octavia paused, her expression softening. “My friend. A survivor. A woman who’s gone through worse than a little water and lived to fight another day.” She tossed the stola at me. “Now get dressed. And find something to cover that hair — it’s too distinctive.”

“Where are we going?”

“Out. Into the city. Somewhere no one will recognize the great Lady Cantius.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “When was the last time you just walked through a market without worrying about assassination plots or maintaining a cover?”

I couldn’t remember. Perhaps never.

Twenty minutes later, dressed in the plain stola with my hair covered by a simple linen wrap, I followed Octavia through the servants’ entrance at the rear of the academy grounds. The guards barely glanced at us — just two more domestic slaves on errands for their masters.

The moment we stepped beyond the academy walls, I felt something loosen in my chest. The weight of pretence, of constant vigilance, eased slightly. Here, I wasn’t the failed noble candidate or the vengeful gladiator. I was just another woman in the crowded streets of the Imperial City.

“See?” Octavia linked her arm through mine. “No one is looking twice at us.”

She was right. The crowd flowed around us, merchants hawking their wares, labourers hauling goods, women shopping for household necessities. No sneering nobles, no evaluating instructors. Just the beautiful chaos of ordinary life.

“Where to first?” I asked, feeling a smile tug at my lips for the first time since the water trial.

“The market, of course. Then perhaps a meal somewhere with outdoor tables. I know a place by the east fountain where they serve wine that won’t blind you.”

I laughed. “Setting a high standard there.”

"For you? Always."

The Eastern Market sprawled across several blocks, a riot of colours and sounds and smells. Merchants from across the Empire displayed their wares under bright canopies. The scent of spices mingled with the aroma of roasting meat and fresh bread. Children darted between stalls, playing elaborate games of chase while their parents bargained.

“Oh, look!” Octavia pulled me toward a stall selling delicate glass beads in jewel tones. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

The merchant, an older woman with henna-stained hands, smiled at our interest. “From the southern deserts,” she said. “Each one hand-blown over an open flame.”

I ran my fingers over a strand of deep blue beads that reminded me of the night sky over my homeland. “They’re exquisite.”

“You have a good eye,” the merchant said. “Those are made with rare cobalt from the eastern mines. Very difficult to work with, but the colour is unmatched.”

For a moment, I was transported back to my childhood, before the soldiers came. My mother had owned a necklace of blue beads, passed down from her grandmother. She’d let me wear it on feast days, the glass cool against my skin.

“How much?” I asked before I could think better of it.

Octavia shot me a warning look. We hadn’t brought much coin — just enough for a modest meal and perhaps a cup of wine. But something in me needed this small connection to the past I’d lost.

The merchant named a price that was reasonable for the quality but still more than we could afford. I began to reluctantly withdraw my hand when Octavia stepped forward.

“My friend here is getting married,” she lied smoothly. “It’s tradition in her province for the bride to wear blue beads. Would you consider a lower price for a bride’s good fortune?”

The merchant’s eyes crinkled. “Ah, a bride! Well, that changes things. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for bad luck on your wedding day.” She named a new price, one that would leave us with just enough for a modest meal.

I started to protest, but Octavia was already counting out the coins. “Consider it a gift,” she whispered. “Everyone deserves something beautiful that’s just for them.”

The merchant wrapped the beads in a scrap of silk and handed them to me with a blessing for fertility and happiness. I thanked her, throat tight with unexpected emotion.

As we continued through the market, the beads a comforting weight in the pocket of my stola, I found myself relaxing further. Octavia and I sampled small bites from food vendors — tiny skewers of spiced lamb, honey-drizzled pastries, crisp vegetables with tangy dipping sauce. We paused to watch a street performer juggle flaming torches, and applauded when a troupe of dancers performed a traditional harvest celebration from the western provinces.

By the time we reached the east fountain, my earlier humiliation had receded to a dull ache rather than a sharp pain. The fountain square was lined with small tavernas, their tables spilling out onto the cobblestones. Octavia led me to one with a faded red awning and a view of the sparkling water.

“Two cups of the house wine,” she told the serving girl who approached our table. “And whatever’s fresh from the kitchen today.”

The wine arrived quickly, deep red and fragrant in simple clay cups. I took a sip and closed my eyes in appreciation. It wasn’t the fine vintage served at academy functions, but it was rich and honest on my tongue.

“To freedom,” Octavia said, raising her cup. “Even if it’s just for an afternoon.”

“To friendship,” I countered, clinking my cup against hers. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Tavi.”

Her smile softened. “You’d manage. You always do. But I’m glad you don’t have to.”

Our food arrived — a simple but delicious spread of fresh bread, olives, goat cheese, and a hearty bean stew flavoured with herbs and smoked pork. We ate with our hands, licking our fingers without concern for noble etiquette, and ordered a second cup of wine when the first was gone.

“Tell me about the water trial,” Octavia said eventually, as we lingered over the last of our meal. “What really happened?”

I sighed, but found the memory didn’t sting quite as sharply now. I told her everything — the terror of deep water, Valeria’s sabotage, Jalend’s rescue, and my humiliating retreat.

“So this Jalend,” she said when I’d finished. “Are we adding him to Marcus and Septimus?”I was taking another drink of wine, and I choked on it at her words.“Hardly, he can barely stand me.”

“He saved your life,” she pointed out.

“He was just being… honestly, normally he’s so arrogant. He even ignores the other nobles. Trust me, he’s nobody.”

“Do you ever wonder,” Octavia asked carefully, “what happens after? If you succeed in your vengeance, what comes next?”

I’d avoided that question for so long. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “For years, revenge was all that kept me going. I never thought beyond it. Now there’s Septimus, and Marcus, and... and it’s all so complicated.”

Octavia refilled our cups with more wine. “Love is never simple, but especially not for women like us who have never had freedom.”

“Is that what this is with them? Love?” The wine had loosened my tongue enough to ask the question that had been haunting me.

“Only you can answer that.” She reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “But I do know that having more than one person to love isn’t the tragedy some would make it out to be. The heart is capable of remarkable expansion.”

“It would be easier if I could just choose,” I murmured. “But they’re all so different, and each fills a space inside me I didn’t know was empty.”

“Then perhaps you don’t have to choose,” Octavia said simply. “At least, not yet.”

We fell silent, watching the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the fountain square. Children played in the spray of water, their laughter carrying on the warm air. For a few precious moments, I allowed myself to imagine a life where such simple pleasures weren’t stolen moments, but everyday joys.

“Thank you for this,” I said finally. “I needed it more than I realized.”

Octavia’s smile was warm with affection. “That’s what friends are for. To remind you there’s a world beyond your troubles, and that you’re not facing them alone.”

“Whatever happens with the trials, with Septimus and Tarshi and the rest,” I said, “I’m glad I have you, Tavi.”

“And you always will,” she promised. “No matter what role you’re playing or what name you’re using. I know who you really are. Now. We need more wine. A lot more.”

As we stood to leave a little while later, a woman approached our table. Silver streaked dark hair drawn up into a knot, and deep burnished skin with lines around her eyes and mouth. Her eyes were a warm brown, though something about the shape made me hesitate, and then I noticed the elegant pointed ears. She was part Talfen.

Octavia stiffened beside me, then relaxed slightly. “Suura,” she said with cautious familiarity. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Nor I you,” the woman replied, her voice melodic but guarded. Her gaze shifted between us, lingering on me with unconcealed suspicion. “You’re usually at the spice stall on Seventh Street this time of week.”

“We decided on wine instead of cooking tonight,” Octavia said, a hint of nervousness creeping into her voice. “This is... a friend.”

“A trusted friend?”

Tavi frowned. “I’d trust her with my life. Why?”

“You’ve never treated me like a creature, even when others at the market whisper and cross to the other side.” She hesitated, fingers trailing anxiously along the edge of her cloak. “That’s why I’m taking this chance.”

“Chance?” Octavia asked.

Suura glanced around, ensuring no Imperial guards were within earshot. “There are those of us who gather. People who believe the Empire’s war against my father’s kind is built on lies. People who want something better.” Her voice dropped even lower. “If you’re truly such a person, come to the old tannery by the warehouses tonight. Bring your friend if you trust her as you say.”

Octavia’s eyes widened, and I could see her preparing a polite refusal. “Suura, I don’t think—”

“We’ll be there,” I interrupted, earning a startled look from Octavia.

Suura studied me more intently. “Who are you?”

“Someone who has seen enough bloodshed to last several lifetimes,” I answered. “Someone who knows that an enemy isn’t always what the Empire tells us they are.”

Something shifted in Suura’s gaze — recognition of a kindred spirit, perhaps. “After the night bell,” she said. “Knock three times, pause, then twice more.” She hesitated, then added, “There are guards who would gladly run any half-blood through for sport. If you’re planning to betray us—”

“We’re not,” I said firmly.

She held my gaze a moment longer, then nodded once and melted back into the crowd.

As soon as she was gone, Octavia seized my arm. “Have you lost your mind? Those meetings are treasonous. If we’re caught, it’s not just punishment — it’s execution.”

“You know Tarshi is half-Talfen,” I replied quietly. “What do you think the Empire would do to him if he stepped out of line even once? You saw how Drusus and the others treated him and he was a slave just like us.”

“I don’t know why you trust him so much, even now.”

“Tarshi is one of us, Tavi. He fought with us, bled with us. He has protected me with his life more times than you know.” I shook my head. “The Empire has spent generations teaching us to fear the Talfen, to see them as demons rather than people. What if it’s all lies? What if people like Suura and Tarshi are just caught between two worlds that refuse to accept them?”

Octavia ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “This isn’t about prejudice, Livia. It’s about survival. These gatherings are dangerous. People disappear for less.”

“My parents died trying to broker peace with the Talfen,” I said softly. “Did you know that? They believed the war was wrong, that there could be another way besides endless bloodshed.” I touched the blue beads in my pocket. “I’ve spent so long focused on vengeance that I forgot there were other dreams they had — dreams of peace.”

Octavia’s expression softened. “You can’t save everyone, Liv.”

“No, but I can listen. I can try to understand.” I squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to come. I know it’s asking too much.”

“And let you wander into a den of potential Imperial spies alone?” She rolled her eyes. “I’d never forgive myself when they dragged your stubborn corpse through the streets.”

“So you’ll come?”

“Yes, but if we’re arrested and thrown into the Emperor’s dungeons, I’m blaming you entirely.”

I laughed, surprising myself with how genuine it felt. “Fair enough.”

Octavia shook her head, but I caught the ghost of a smile. “You’re impossible,” she sighed.

“But never boring,” I countered, linking my arm through hers as we began making our way towards the warehouse district of the city, and towards yet more danger.

The night bell had sounded by the time we reached the old tannery, its crumbling walls barely visible in the dim light of the quarter moon. The stench of the tanning pits still lingered faintly in the air, enough to keep most people away — exactly why it made the perfect meeting place for those the Empire would rather silence.

Octavia squeezed my hand as we approached the weathered door. “Last chance to change your mind.”

“And miss this chance to see others fighting for change as well? Never.”

I knocked as instructed — three sharp raps, a pause, then two more. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then the door cracked open, revealing a burly man with the distinctive amber flecks in his eyes. He assessed us silently.

“Suura invited us,” I said quietly.

He nodded once, then stepped aside to let us enter. “Keep your voices down and your hoods up,” he warned. “For your safety as much as ours.”

The tannery’s main floor had been transformed. Gone were the vats and racks, replaced by scattered seating where two dozen people already gathered in hushed conversation. Candles burned in recessed alcoves, casting just enough light to see without being visible from outside. Some faces bore the telltale blue tint of Talfen blood, but many were fully human, their presence surprising me more than anything.

“I didn’t expect so many…” Octavia whispered.

“People who see through the Empire’s lies?” a familiar voice finished.

I spun around, my heart lurching painfully in my chest as I came face to face with Tarshi. He looked different here — more himself somehow. Taller, if that was possible.

“Livia?” The shock in his voice mirrored my own. “What are you doing here?”

Words failed me. I hadn’t seen him since the night before. I frowned. Was that a bruise on his cheekbone?

“I could ask you the same,” I finally managed. His gaze flicked to Octavia, then back to me, and I knew he was worried about her. She hadn’t exactly been one of his biggest fans so far.

“This isn’t a game, Livia. These people risk everything to be here.”

“I know.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “I’m not here to play games, Tarshi. We met Suura today, and when she invited Octavia to this gathering... I thought of you. Of what you face every day. I wanted to come.”

Tarshi’s eyebrows shot up. “Suura invited Octavia?”

“I am right here, you know,” grumbled Tavi, her arms folded across her chest as she glared up at him.

Something shifted in his expression — wariness giving way to cautious hope. “These meetings aren’t just talk. There are plans. Dangerous ones.”

“When has danger ever stopped me?” I offered a half-smile.

He didn’t smile back. “Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly, as people started making their way to the front of the room.

I thought of my parents, of their forgotten dream, of the blue beads in my pocket. “No,” I admitted. “But I’m here anyway.”

His fingers brushed mine in the darkness — the briefest touch, but enough to set my heart racing. “Then that’s a start.”