Page 19 of City of Secrets and Shadows (Empire of Vengeance #2)

19

I was already regretting my decision to brave the dining hall rather than have breakfast sent to my quarters. I’d not wanted to face Tarshi and Septimus glaring daggers at each other across the room, so I’d slipped out instead. The moment I stepped through the arched doorway though, I felt eyes shift in my direction. Whispers cascaded between tables like falling dominoes. I kept my chin high, back straight, walking as if I were still in the arena — a warrior indifferent to the crowd’s judgment.

“Well, if it isn’t our champion swimmer,” came Valeria’s voice, sweet as poisoned honey.

I considered ignoring her, continuing to the serving tables without acknowledgment, but that would only encourage her to escalate. Better to face her now, on my terms.

“Valeria. Bright morning to you,” I said, keeping my voice neutral.

She stood flanked by her usual companions — Cassia and Drusilla — their matching expressions of disdain carefully practiced. Behind them, I noticed several male cadets watching with anticipation, including Lord Varin, whose family held lands somewhere in the western provinces. Not powerful enough to matter, but wealthy enough to be dangerous.

“We were just discussing your... innovative approach to the water trial,” Valeria continued, loud enough to ensure nearby tables could hear. “So brave to show everyone exactly what not to do.”

Drusilla laughed, a little too enthusiastically. “I’ve never seen someone sink that fast with all their limbs still working.”

I let the comment slide off me like water from oiled leather. “If you’re this interested in my performance, perhaps you should focus more on your own training.”

“Oh, we are,” Cassia interjected, stepping forward with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “After all, we’ll need to be at our best for the rescheduled trial.”

My stomach tightened. “Rescheduled?”

“You hadn’t heard?” Valeria’s voice dripped with false concern. “Commander Ferris announced it at yesterday’s assembly. The water trial will be held again in three days’ time. A special opportunity for those who…” she paused meaningfully, “...need a second chance.”

I kept my expression impassive, though internally I was already dreading another humiliation in the water. I’d had no instruction, no guidance on what I’d done wrong. They were setting me up to fail again.

“How thoughtful of the Commander,” I said coolly. “I’ll be sure to thank him personally.”

I turned to continue toward the serving tables, only to find my path blocked by Lord Varin, who had glided into position with practiced ease. Up close, his features were sharp and predatory beneath carefully styled dark hair.

“Lady Cantius,” he said with an exaggerated bow that bordered on mockery. “Perhaps what you need is proper instruction. Someone of... appropriate standing who understands the finer points of academy training.”

His gaze travelled over me in a way that had nothing to do with academic assistance. I’d encountered his type in the arena — men who equated power with entitlement, who viewed women as conquests rather than equals, and I had no inclination to allow myself to be used in such a way again.

“I appreciate your concern, Lord Varin,” I replied, “but I prefer to solve my own problems.”

He stepped closer, his voice lowering. “Are you certain? I could make your time here much more... pleasant. I’ve noticed you lack proper connections among the nobility.”

Before I could respond with something that would undoubtedly create a new enemy, another voice cut through the tension.

“Varin, I believe you’re blocking the path to the morning bread. Some of us are actually hungry.”

Jalend stood a few paces away, his expression bored rather than confrontational. He wasn’t looking at Varin but at the serving tables beyond, as if the entire scene was beneath his notice. The casual dismissal in his tone was more effective than any direct challenge could have been.

Varin hesitated, clearly measuring the political cost of challenging Jalend Northreach. No one had heard of him, but the rumours now were of a private but extremely wealthy and influential family that had the ear of the Emperor, and it was amusing to see how the other minor nobles strained to discover whether they should mock him or flatter him.

After a moment, he inclined his head with exaggerated courtesy.

“Of course. Far be it from me to come between a man and his breakfast.” He stepped aside, but not before giving me one last meaningful look. “My offer stands, Lady Cantius.”

I moved past him without acknowledgment, feeling Valeria’s glare burning into my back.

“Three days, Cantius,” she called after me. “Try not to embarrass yourself again. Or us.”

Jalend fell into step beside me as I reached the serving tables. “The bravery of the petty nobility never ceases to amaze me,” he drawled. “So valiant when attacking in packs.”

I glanced at him, surprised by the intervention. We’d barely spoken since our brief encounter after my initial water trial failure. “Thank you, though I could have handled it.”

“Oh, I have no doubt.” He selected a roll from the bread basket with fastidious care. “But watching you eviscerate Varin might have delayed breakfast, and I’m particularly hungry this morning.”

His tone was light, almost disinterested, yet he’d chosen to stand beside me in a clear social statement to the watching academy students. It wasn’t friendship exactly, but it was... something.

“You’re attending the flight trials today?” he asked, not looking at me as he assembled his breakfast on a plate.

“Yes. Though given my performance in water, expectations are likely to be low.”

A hint of a smile crossed his face. “Perhaps that’s advantageous. Nothing quite like surprising one’s critics.” He nodded toward an empty table near the window, away from Valeria’s group. “Care to join me? I find the morning air improves digestion considerably, and the company elsewhere leaves much to be desired.”

I hesitated, then nodded. As we walked to the table, I could feel the weight of stares following us, recalculating social equations and potential alliances. Jalend seemed entirely indifferent to the attention, seating himself with the casual grace of someone accustomed to being watched.

“You fight well,” he said after we’d eaten in silence for several minutes. It wasn’t a question but an assessment.

“You’ve been watching my training sessions?”

He shrugged one shoulder elegantly. “I watch everyone. It pays to know the capabilities of one’s peers.” He took a careful sip of tea. “Most noble-born fight with textbook precision but no instinct. You fight like…”

“Like what?” I asked, gazing into my own tea, not daring to meet his eyes.

“Like a soldier.”

I looked up to find his steel grey eyes boring into mine, then looked down to my meal.

“I thought that’s what we were supposed to be? Isn’t that the purpose of all this?”

“It’s the purpose of the Academy, but you haven’t passed the trials yet, and you fight as though you have years of real experience.”

I stiffened, my spoon freezing halfway to my mouth. “What makes you say that?”

“Your footwork. Your awareness.” He tore a piece of bread with precise fingers. “And the fact that you carry yourself like someone who’s survived worse than Valeria’s pathetic attempts at intimidation.”

I set my spoon down carefully and met his gaze. “You're very observant.”

“A necessary skill when one grows up in my household.” Something dark flickered across his face before vanishing behind that careful mask.

“And how do you fight, Jalend Northreach?”

“To win.” His eyes met mine, dark and unreadable. “Always.”

Something in his gaze made my skin prickle with awareness. I broke the contact first, focusing on my bread as if it required my full attention.

“The water trial,” he said after a moment. “Your form wasn’t the problem.”

I looked up sharply. “What?”

“Your approach. You’re fighting the water like an enemy.” He set down his cup with deliberate care. “Water isn’t like solid ground or a blade. The harder you struggle against it, the faster it claims you.”

“And you’re an expert on water combat now?” I couldn’t keep the edge from my voice.

His lips curved slightly. “I’ve been known to stay afloat.”

“How fortunate for you.” I stabbed at the fruit on my plate. “Perhaps next time I’ll simply imagine myself as a feather and float away.”

“Mock if you wish,” he said, unperturbed. “But there’s a training pool in the east wing that’s empty before dawn. No observers, no judgments.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And why would you help me?”

“Because watching you drown a second time would be tedious.” His voice was dry, but something in his eyes suggested another motivation entirely.

I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “And what do you get from this arrangement, Northreach?”

“The satisfaction of thwarting Valeria’s petty machinations?” He took a deliberate bite of his bread, chewing thoughtfully before adding, “Or perhaps I simply enjoy watching people defy expectations.”

Before I could respond, a horn sounded across the courtyard — the fifteen-minute warning for morning assembly.

“Consider it,” Jalend said, rising from the table with fluid grace. “East wing. Two hours before dawn. Or drown again in three days. Your choice.”

He walked away without waiting for an answer, leaving me staring after him with equal parts irritation and curiosity.

The flight trials were held in the western courtyard, where massive stone pillars had been erected at varying heights. A half-dozen dragons lounged at the far end, their scales gleaming in the midday sun — bronze, emerald, and slate blue. They were smaller than Sirrax and the majestic bronze, but still large enough to swallow a cadet whole. Sirrax turned his head as I entered the courtyard and I felt a surge of connection and joy as our bond awakened. I couldn’t help but smile at him.

Legate Ferris stood before us, his weathered face impassive. “Flight is the foundation of dragon warfare. Without mastery in the air, you are useless to the Empire.” His eyes swept over us, pausing briefly on me. “Today, you will demonstrate basic mounting, signalling, and dismounting techniques with training dragons. Each of you will perform a flight around the academy before the end of the day. Those of you who already possess a dragon may mount and move away from the beginners.”

I moved toward Sirrax while several cadets whispered behind me, grateful to see him again. The other bonded cadets — only five of us — separated from the group, while the rest approached the training dragons with varying degrees of confidence. To my surprise, Jalend was one of those who already had his own dragon - the bronze. I watched as he approached, but unlike the others, he didn’t immediately mount. Instead, he stood before the beast, their eyes locked in silent communication. The dragon lowered its head in a gesture that seemed almost... deferential.

Sirrax lowered his head as I approached, a rumble of greeting vibrating through his chest. I placed my hand on his warm snout, our connection humming between us.

“Cantius already has a dragon?” someone muttered. “How is that possible?” I ignored them, focusing instead on the beast before me as the now familiar bond filled my mind with a warm reassurance. Dragons bonded mentally with their riders to some degree — that was fundamental academy teaching and general knowledge — but this felt different, more substantial than the vague empathic connection described in our texts. This felt almost... conversational.

I closed my eyes and tried to reach back, focusing my thoughts toward Sirrax. We’d practiced a few times now, and it seemed to be getting easier each time. I concentrated on my own feelings — determination about the trials, appreciation for his strength, and a question, unformed but present, about what was happening between us.

The response nearly buckled my knees. Not words, but a complex web of emotions and impressions flowed back toward me — approval stronger this time, satisfaction, and to my surprise, genuine affection.

“All this time,” I said softly, “you’ve been waiting for me to listen properly.”

Another pulse of approval flooded through our newly forged connection.

“Well then,” I murmured. “Ready to show them what we can do?”

His amber eyes blinked slowly, amusement rippling through our bond. I felt his eagerness — and beneath it, a predatory satisfaction at the chance to display his prowess. Dragons, I’d learned, were as proud as any noble.

“Mount up!” Ferris bellowed. “Bonded riders will demonstrate the basic flight pattern for our novices.”

I swung onto Sirrax’s back with practiced ease, settling into the familiar hollow between his shoulder blades. No saddle — we’d never needed one. His scales were smooth beneath my hands. I gripped with my thighs, finding that perfect balance point that had become second nature and feeling the heat of his body seeping through my training leathers.

“Riders, take formation!” Ferris commanded.

Sirrax shifted beneath me, muscles coiling with barely contained energy. I leaned forward, one hand resting against his neck, feeling the rhythm of his breathing.

“Easy,” I whispered, though I knew he felt my own excitement mirroring his.

Across the courtyard, Jalend mounted his bronze with fluid grace, as if he’d been born to ride dragonback. The beast was magnificent — only slightly smaller than Sirrax, with scales that caught the sunlight like burnished metal. There was an arrogance to both dragon and rider that was unmistakable, yet also earned. They moved as one, no wasted motion, no hesitation. Our eyes met briefly, and I could have sworn I saw the ghost of a smile touch his lips before he looked away.

“First formation!” Ferris called out. “Circle the academy grounds, maintain an altitude of five hundred feet…”

Sirrax tensed beneath me, ready. I tightened my thighs against his sides, leaning forward into the position we’d practiced.

“Let’s make this interesting,” I whispered.

Sirrax’s muscles bunched beneath me, and I felt his anticipation surge through our bond. Before Ferris could give further instructions, Sirrax launched himself skyward with explosive force. The ground fell away as we rocketed upward, wind tearing at my hair and clothes. I heard startled shouts below, but they quickly faded beneath the thunderous beat of Sirrax’s wings.

The academy shrank to a collection of toy buildings as we climbed higher than the prescribed training altitude. I should have been terrified — we’d never flown this high during our secret practice sessions — but the exhilaration flowing between us eclipsed any fear. This was freedom. This was power.

“Cantius!” Ferris’s voice sounded faintly below. “Return to formation immediately!”

I felt Sirrax’s contempt ripple through our bond, matched by my own defiance. Instead of descending, I leaned forward, pressing myself against his neck.

“Show them what you can really do,” I urged.

Sirrax banked sharply to the right, then plummeted in a controlled dive that sent my stomach into my throat. At the last possible moment, he pulled up, skimming so close to the ground that dust billowed across the ground towards Valeria and her shadows. I laughed at their screams as Sirrax pulled up neatly into formation with the four other dragons next to Jalend and his bronze.

Jalend’s bronze dragon snorted, sending a plume of steam into the air as we settled into formation. Through our bond, I felt Sirrax’s smugness at the display we’d just put on. The other dragons maintained rigid positions, their riders stiff-backed and proper. Only Jalend seemed unperturbed, his posture relaxed yet commanding.

“Impressive,” he said, voice carrying just enough to reach me but not the others. “Though Ferris looks ready to have you scrubbing latrines with your tongue.”

I glanced down to see the Legate’s face contorted with rage, his finger jabbing upward as he shouted commands we could no longer hear.

“Worth it,” I replied, the wind whipping my words away. But Jalend heard, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

“Maintain altitude!” Ferris shouted from below. “Complete the circuit around the eastern tower!”

“Duty calls,” Jalend said dryly. “Try not to give the Legate an apoplexy before noon.” With a subtle shift of his weight, he guided his bronze into a perfect banking turn.

The rest of us banked in unison, dragons moving through the air with deadly grace. I stole a glance at Jalend, even more curious about him now. He rode with casual confidence, one hand resting loosely on his dragon’s neck, his body moving instinctively with each shift and turn. This was no novice rider.

For the next hour, we performed increasingly complex manoeuvres around the academy grounds. Sirrax responded to my lightest touch, to the subtlest shift of my weight, as if he could read my mind. Perhaps he could. Our connection hummed between us, stronger than ever before, a bridge of understanding that transcended words.

When Ferris finally called us down, satisfaction rippled through Sirrax’s consciousness and into mine. We’d outperformed every other pair, even Jalend and his bronze, executing turns and dives with a precision that drew grudging nods from the instructors and sullen glares from most of the other cadets.

“Dismount and report to the changing rooms,” Ferris ordered as we landed. His eyes narrowed when they fell on me. “Cantius, remain behind.”

I slipped from Sirrax’s back, patting his neck in silent thanks before approaching the Legate. His weathered face was set in lines of disapproval, but something else lurked in his eyes — calculation, perhaps.

“That display was reckless, undisciplined, and completely outside protocol,” he said, voice low enough that the departing cadets couldn’t hear.

I kept my face carefully neutral. “Yes, legatus.”

“It was also the finest flying I’ve seen from a competitor in two decades.”

I blinked, caught off-guard by the unexpected praise.

“Don’t look so surprised, Cantius. I recognize skill when I see it.” His eyes flicked to Sirrax, who watched us with unnerving intensity.

“We... understand each other, legatus.”

Ferris studied me, his expression unreadable. “Indeed. Well, next time, follow formation protocols or your progression through the trials will be halted regardless. Dismissed.”

I hurried toward the changing rooms, mind racing. Praise from Ferris was as rare as rain in the desert. I was still processing his words when I pushed open the heavy door to find the room filled with female cadets in various states of undress.

Conversation died as I entered, a dozen pairs of eyes tracking my movement across the stone floor. I ignored them, focusing on removing my flight leathers with efficient movements.

“Well, if it isn’t our star performer,” Valeria’s voice cut through the silence. “Such... dramatic flying. One might think you were trying to compensate for something.”

I continued changing, methodically unfastening buckles and straps.

“I’m speaking to you, Cantius,” she said, stepping closer.

I turned to face her, keeping my expression neutral. “I heard you, Valeria. I simply had nothing to say.”

Her eyes narrowed, the perfect oval of her face tightening with anger. “You think you’re special because you have a dragon? Because you can fly a few fancy tricks?”

“I think I completed the flight trial successfully,” I replied, pulling my clean tunic over my head. “As did you. Congratulations.”

My disinterest seemed to infuriate her more than any insult could have. She stepped closer, her expensive perfume wafting between us.

“It seems the legate isn’t the only one who's eye you’ve caught,” Valeria continued, her tone shifting to false sweetness. “Lord Varin couldn’t take his eyes off you this morning. Quite the... dedicated admirer.”

“Lord Varin’s attentions are neither sought nor welcomed.”

“Oh, how charming. She thinks she has a choice.” Valeria laughed, a sound without warmth. “Varin always gets what he wants, Cantius. Always. Ask any girl who’s caught his interest before.”

Something in her tone made my skin crawl. I glanced up to see several girls exchanging knowing looks, their expressions a mixture of sympathy and relief — the faces of those who had escaped a predator’s notice.

“I’m not concerned,” I said, unlacing my boots with deliberate calm.

“No?” Valeria leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You should be. The last girl who refused him took nearly a storm to recover from her injuries.” She straightened, smoothing her immaculate uniform. “But perhaps you’ll be lucky. Perhaps he’ll grow bored before it comes to that.”

She gathered her things with exaggerated leisure, gesturing to the other girls. “Come along. We have a dance tonight and I want time to get ready.”

They filed out in her wake, a procession of identical sneers and superior glances. As the door swung shut behind them, I exhaled slowly, tension draining from my shoulders. I was the last one left, the sudden silence a blessed relief after Valeria’s pointed barbs.

I finished removing my leathers, stripping down to my undergarments, and allowing myself a moment of stillness in the empty room. A month ago , I would have responded to such threats with immediate violence. The arena had taught me to strike first, to establish dominance through fear. But here, in this nest of nobility and privilege, different rules applied — rules of patience, of calculation, of carefully chosen moments. Maybe once Valeria got comfortable with dragon riding, I could knock her off somewhere away from the city. I grinned wickedly at the thought.

The door creaked open behind me, and I turned, expecting a straggler from Valeria’s group. Instead, Lord Varin stood in the doorway, his tall frame blocking the exit. His lips curved into a smile that never reached his eyes.

“Lady Cantius,” he said, stepping fully into the women’s changing room and letting the door swing shut behind him. “How fortunate to find you alone.”