Page 20 of City of Secrets and Shadows (Empire of Vengeance #2)

20

I felt a chill run down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold stone walls of the changing room. The look in his eyes reminded me of arena masters sizing up new acquisitions — calculating potential value against the effort of breaking resistance.

“This is the women’s changing area, Lord Varin,” I said. “You seem to have lost your way.”

“I’m exactly where I intend to be.” He took another step toward me, close enough that I could smell the expensive perfume he wore — desert spice and something sharper beneath. “You’ve been quite the topic of conversation since your arrival, Lady Cantius. A mysterious noblewoman with no family connections and exceptional combat skills.”

“My background is hardly a mystery,” I replied, keeping my voice steady despite the alarm bells ringing in my mind. “And I fail to see how it concerns you.”

“Everything in this academy concerns me.” His smile turned predatory as he moved closer still, deliberately invading my space. “My family has attended this institution for eight generations. We understand how things work here.”

I took a step back to maintain the distance between us. “Then you should understand that this is inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate?” He laughed again, louder this time. “Such delicate sensibilities from a woman who fights like a mercenary. I wonder what other contradictions you contain.”

His gaze travelled down my body in a way that made my skin crawl. I’d endured similar looks in the arena, from spectators who watched female gladiators with hunger rather than appreciation for skill. The difference was that now I had a choice as to how our interactions would go.

“Lord Varin,” I said, my voice hardening. “You will leave. Now.”

Something flickered in his eyes — surprise, perhaps, that I would speak to him so directly. Then amusement replaced it.

“You don’t give orders here, Cantius.”

“You misunderstand my position entirely. Valeria was right — you do need a lesson in how things work at the academy.”

I met his gaze coolly, even as I calculated exactly where my knife was located in my belongings behind me. “Remove your hand.”

“Or what? You’ll report me?” His grip tightened painfully. “To whom? The instructors who know my family have funded half the buildings here? The cadets who know my reputation?”

He forced me backward until I felt the wooden bench against the backs of my legs. His free hand reached for my face, fingers grazing my cheek in a mockery of tenderness that made my stomach turn.

“You’re a nobody with a pretty face and some combat tricks,” he said softly. “Useful for now, perhaps. But disposable. Whereas I am untouchable.”

I kept my expression neutral even as rage burned through me. “Are you quite finished?”

Confusion flickered across his face at my calm demeanour. “You don’t seem to understand your situation.”

“I understand perfectly.” I let my voice drop to a whisper, forcing him to lean closer to hear me. “You believe that because you were born to privilege, you can take whatever you want. That your name shields you from consequences.”

His smile returned, triumphant now. “Exactly.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I moved with the speed that had kept me alive for months in the arena. My hand shot out, shoving hard on his chest while my leg hooked behind his knee. Varin gasped in shock as he stumbled backwards, but he was fast too, and his fingers snatched at my chest bindings as he went down, and we crashed to the floor together.

“You little—” His hand wrapped around my hair twisting painfully as he rolled over pinning me beneath him. His other hand caught me hard across the face and I blinked as my vision blurred for a second.

Copper filled my mouth. The taste was familiar — a companion from countless arena fights. I spat blood onto his pristine tunic, watching satisfaction bloom in his eyes at the sight of it. That was his first mistake. Thinking my pain was his victory.

“Is this how Lord Varin proves himself?” I hissed through clenched teeth. “Ambushing women in changing rooms?”

“I have no need to prove myself,” he said as he dragged away the bindings over my breasts. “And you haven’t seen abuse yet. I was going to be gentle, but now I’m going to enjoy ruining you.”

My mind raced through options. I couldn’t reach my knife. The door was too far. No one would hear me scream over the sounds of combat practice outside. His hand left my hair as he forced it between my legs, and instantly I slammed my forehead into his nose. The crunch was satisfying, the spray of blood even more so. He howled, hands flying to his face, and I twisted my hips, trying to throw him off balance.

He recovered faster than I expected, grabbing my wrists and slamming them above my head.

“You’ll pay for that,” he snarled, blood streaming down his face, dripping onto my skin. I bucked beneath him, trying to throw him off balance, but he laughed and slammed my wrists against the stone floor. Pain shot through my arms.

“No one’s coming to help you,” he whispered against my ear, his breath hot and foul. “They never do.”

His knee forced my legs apart, his hand pulling his own clothing out of the way. I felt him press against me, and time slowed.

“They might not come,” I growled, “but that doesn’t mean I need them.”

I went limp beneath him, as though I’d given up, and he laughed. He pressed forward, hand guiding his cock, and as he looked down, his grip on my wrists loosened. I dragged them down sharply, but instead of trying to shove him away, I flattened my hand, pressing my fingers together and drove them into the soft tissue of his throat. His eyes widened as both hands flew to his throat and he gurgled in his rage.

“Looks like you’re the one who needed the education, Varin. First lesson,” I said softly. “Never underestimate an opponent.”

Rage contorted his features, but I twisted sharply as I reached up and grabbed his hair in both hands and dragged him sideways. Hitting the ground hard, I rolled so I went with him, and sat astride his chest. I reached quickly for my belongings, dragging them onto the floor. my fingers grazed the handle of the knife Marcus had given me and I grabbed it. A blow landed across my head and I fell sideways, gripping onto it so it didn’t fall from my hand.

“You fucking bitch,” he wheezed, trying to push himself up on one elbow. “I’ll destroy you for this.”

I got to my knees and before he could move again, I drew the knife from its scabbard and pressed the sharp bronze blade across his throat that already bore the marks of my assault from before. He froze.

“You wouldn’t dare use that. Not here. Not against me.”

“Why not? Because you’re noble born? I’ve killed better men than you for lesser offenses.”

For the first time, genuine uncertainty crossed his face. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” I smiled then, the cold, predatory smile I’d worn in the arena when facing an opponent who’d underestimated me. “Care to wager your life on that assessment?”

He hesitated, reassessing me with new wariness. Then his expression hardened with determination. “Even if you could, you wouldn’t survive the aftermath. My family would destroy you.”

“Perhaps. But you’d still be dead.” I kept my voice perfectly calm, the knife steady in my hand. “Is possessing me worth that risk, Lord Varin?”

Something shifted in his eyes — calculation replacing lust. He was beginning to understand that he’d miscalculated badly, that I was not the easy prey he’d anticipated. For a moment, I thought he might withdraw, might choose the better part of valour.

Beyond the changing room door, I heard voices — female, whispering urgently. With sudden clarity, I understood. Valeria and her followers hadn’t left at all. They were standing guard, ensuring no one interrupted Varin’s “lesson.”

The knowledge should have filled me with dread. Instead, cold fury settled in my chest. They had underestimated me. All of them. Just as so many had before.

“You fight well for a woman,” Varin said, breathing heavily. “Another of your mysterious skills, I presume?”

“I learned to fight long before I came to the academy,” I replied, keeping my voice steady despite my racing pulse. “Against men who would make you seem little more than a spoiled child.”

His face darkened with fresh anger. “You forget yourself, Cantius.”

“No, Varin. For the first time since arriving at this academy, I remember exactly who I am.”

Outside, the voices grew louder. I caught fragments of conversation — Valeria’s insistent “keep them out” and another voice, deeper, demanding entry. Jalend.

Varin must have heard it too, for a flicker of relief crossed his face. “They’ll be here any moment,” he said, a hint of smugness returning. “How will you explain this, I wonder? A common-born student attacking a nobleman? With a weapon no cadet should possess?”

I laughed softly. “Is that what happened? Strange, I recall defending myself against a nobleman who entered the women’s changing area uninvited and drew a blade on me when I refused his advances.”

His eyes narrowed. “My word against yours.”

“Perhaps.”

The voices outside grew louder, more insistent. I heard Jalend’s voice clearly now: “Step aside, Valeria. Now.”

“We’re only—” Valeria began.

“I know exactly what you’re doing,” Jalend cut her off, his tone glacial. “Move, or I will move you.”

Something heavy slammed against the door — a shoulder, perhaps. The wood groaned but held. Another impact, and I heard the crack of splintering wood.

Varin’s eyes darted toward the door, then back to me. “This isn’t over,” he hissed.

I smiled coldly. “It was over the moment you mistook me for prey rather than predator.”

The door burst open with a crash of broken wood. Jalend stood in the doorway, his normally composed features tight with anger. He froze at the sight before him — me pressing Varin against the floor, knife at his throat.

“Lady Cantius,” Jalend said finally, his voice carefully neutral. “Are you in need of assistance?”

“Not particularly,” I replied, not taking my eyes off Varin. “Lord Varin and I were just concluding our... discussion.”

Jalend’s gaze flicked to the knife at Varin’s throat, then to Varin’s own blade. Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by something that might have been grudging respect.

“I see.” He stepped fully into the room, his movement deliberate. “Perhaps it’s time Lord Varin returned to his quarters. Unless he wishes to continue this conversation before witnesses?”

Varin’s jaw clenched, humiliation and rage warring on his features. “This isn’t over,” he repeated, this time loud enough for Jalend to hear.

“It is for today,” I said, finally moving back and lowering my knife, though I kept it ready in my hand.

Varin pushed himself up, straightening his torn shirt with trembling fingers and tucking his pathetic excuse for a cock back into his trousers. “You’ve made a grave mistake, Cantius. Both of you.” His gaze encompassed Jalend as well. “My family—”

“Your family would be deeply interested to learn of your activities today,” Jalend interrupted, his tone conversational but with an edge of steel beneath. “As would the academy council. Entering the women’s changing area uninvited, drawing a weapon on a fellow cadet... quite the scandal, wouldn’t you agree?”

Varin’s face paled slightly. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” Jalend replied simply. “Test me, if you wish.”

Varin looked between us, calculation replacing rage in his eyes. Finally, he sheathed his blade with a sharp movement. “This matter isn’t concluded,” he said, voice tight with suppressed fury.

“It is,” Jalend said, stepping aside to allow Varin passage to the door. “Unless you prefer I escort you directly to Commander Ferris to discuss it further?”

Varin brushed past him without another word, shoving roughly through the cluster of wide-eyed girls still hovering in the corridor. They scattered before his anger like startled birds.

As soon as he was gone, Jalend turned to me, his expression unreadable. “Are you injured?”

I shook my head, finally allowing myself to exhale fully. His eyes dropped lower for a moment, then flashed back up to my face and he cleared his throat. Now that the immediate danger had passed, I became acutely aware of my state of undress, and turned to grab my stola, pulling it over myself quickly. To my annoyance, I realised I was shaking.

Jalend seemed to realize it at the same moment. He unfastened his cloak with efficient movements and held it out to me. “Here.”

I hesitated, then accepted the offering, wrapping the heavy fabric around my shoulders. It carried his scent — clean linen and subtle spice. “Thank you.”

He nodded once, his gaze dropping to the knife I still held. “An interesting accessory for an academy cadet.”

I slipped the blade back into its sheath without comment and gathered the rest of my things.

Jalend moved to the broken door, checking the corridor. “The vultures have scattered. We should go before they return with reinforcements.”

I followed him out into the empty hallway, the familiar weight of my knife once again strapped to my thigh. We walked in silence for several moments, our footsteps echoing on the stone floor.

“They were guarding the door for him,” Jalend said finally, breaking the silence. “Valeria and her sycophants. I happened to be passing by and heard them turning away another cadet who needed to change.”

“I suspected as much.” My voice sounded calmer than I felt. The cold fury that had sustained me during the confrontation was fading, leaving in its wake a bone-deep weariness. Not physical exhaustion, but the familiar emotional toll of violence and its aftermath.

“You should keep your distance from them,” Jalend continued. “Valeria has influence beyond her own family connections. Her cousin is married to the academy’s chief benefactor.”

I glanced at him, a hint of amusement breaking through my fatigue. “Are you concerned for my welfare, Lord Northreach?”

“I’m concerned about unnecessary complications,” he replied, but something in his tone suggested the distinction wasn’t as clear as his words implied.

“I’m not afraid of Valeria or her friends.”

“No,” he said after a moment. “I believe that’s true.” There was something new in his voice — grudging respect, perhaps. “I must admit, I didn’t expect to find you holding Varin at knifepoint. He’s considered one of the better duellists among the cadets.”

“Is he?” I couldn’t keep the scepticism from my voice. “His form is sloppy. Too much aggression, insufficient control.”

Jalend shot me a sideways glance. “You speak like a professional.”

I caught myself too late, remembering that Lady Cantius should not assess combat skills with a gladiator’s precision. “My father believed in thorough training,” I said carefully.

“Indeed.” He didn’t press further, but I sensed his curiosity had only deepened. We had reached the corridor leading to my quarters, and he stopped, maintaining a respectful distance. “Will you report this incident?”

I considered the question. Reporting Varin would draw attention I couldn’t afford, invite scrutiny into my background that might reveal my deception. Yet letting him escape consequences entirely went against everything in me.

“Not officially,” I said finally. “But I suspect he’ll find his actions have consequences nonetheless.”

Jalend nodded, understanding the implied threat.

“A wise approach.” He gestured toward my door. “I trust you can manage from here?”

I nodded, slipping his cloak from my shoulders and holding it out to him. “Thank you for your intervention, though it seems I had the situation in hand.”

“So I observed.” He took the garment, his fingers brushing mine briefly in the exchange. “You’re full of surprises, Lady Cantius.”

“As are you, Lord Northreach. I wouldn’t have expected you to confront Valeria’s group on my behalf.”

A hint of that rare smile touched his mouth. “Perhaps I simply dislike seeing rules flaunted so blatantly. Relationships between cadets are discouraged after all.”

“Of course. Your sense of propriety, not concern for a fellow cadet.”

“Precisely.” But there was something in his eyes that contradicted his casual tone — a warmth that hadn’t been there before. “The Midwinter Ceremony is this evening. I assume you’ll be attending?”

The abrupt change of subject caught me off guard. “I... yes. It’s mandatory for all cadets.”

“Then perhaps I’ll see you there.” He inclined his head slightly, a gesture that managed to be both formal and inexplicably intimate. “Until tonight, Lady Cantius.”

Before I could respond, he turned and walked away, his steps measured and unhurried. I watched him go, trying to reconcile the arrogant nobleman I’d first met with the man who had just broken down a door to aid a cadet he barely knew.

Inside my quarters, I locked the door and sank onto the edge of my bed, the full weight of what had just happened finally crashing down on me. My hands began to shake — not during the confrontation, not while defending myself, but now, in the safety of solitude. I pressed my palms against my knees, trying to stop the trembling.

I’d thought I was beyond this. Beyond feeling violated, beyond the cold, sick dread that pooled in my stomach at unwanted hands on my body. In the ludus, it had been different — a horror I’d come to expect, to steel myself against like any other injury in the arena. It was simply another weapon the masters used to break us, to remind us we were property, not people.

But here, in the academy, I’d begun to believe I was free of that particular fear. That my false nobility and the rigidity of academy protocol would shield me from the same predatory treatment. That I could be seen as a fighter, a student, anything but a body to be used.

I was wrong. Varin’s eyes had held the same entitlement, the same casual cruelty as any ludus patron who’d purchased time with a female gladiator. Different clothes, different words, but the same hunger beneath. The realization made me feel simultaneously furious and desperately hollow.

A sound escaped me — not quite a sob, something harsher. I pressed my fist against my mouth, muffling it. Lady Cantius wouldn’t break down. Lady Cantius would maintain her composure, attend the Midwinter Ceremony with her head high, and navigate the political waters with careful precision.

But I wasn’t Lady Cantius. I was Livia, and Livia had endured enough.

Before I could reconsider, I was on my feet, changing out of my academy garments into the plainest clothes I owned — a simple tunic, dark enough to blend into the evening shadows. I slipped my knife into its hidden sheath at my thigh, threw a nondescript cloak over my shoulders, and left my quarters without a backward glance.

The academy gates were lightly guarded in the hours before the Midwinter Ceremony, most attention focused on preparations for the evening's festivities. I knew the patrol schedules by heart — another habit from the arena, always mapping exits, always planning escape routes. It was simple enough to time my departure between guard rotations, slipping through a service entrance used by kitchen staff.

The city sprawled below the academy’s hillside perch, lanterns beginning to flicker to life as twilight deepened into dusk. I made my way down the winding path, each step carrying me further from Lady Cantius and closer to the person I’d been — the person I still was beneath the carefully constructed facade.

I needed... I wasn’t sure what. Not the academy’s sterile comfort. Not the suffocating weight of maintaining appearances. I just needed somewhere I could breathe, where I didn’t have to pretend, even for an hour.

The streets grew narrower as I descended into the lower city, buildings pressed close together, the smell of cooking fires and cheap ale replacing the academy’s perpetual scent of cedar and old books. I found myself drawn to familiar territory — not the wealthy merchant districts or the noble quarters, but the edges where common folk lived and worked and survived.

Before I fully realized where my feet were taking me, I was standing before a shabby tavern with a faded sign depicting a broken sword. Above it, a narrow staircase led to apartments that could be rented by the week. I climbed the stairs, my heart hammering against my ribs for reasons I refused to examine.

The third door on the left. I hesitated, my knuckles poised above the wood. What was I doing here? What did I expect? I should return to the academy before my absence was noted, should compose myself and attend the ceremony as required, should—

My hand knocked before I could talk myself out of it, three sharp raps that echoed in the narrow hallway.

For a long moment, there was silence. I was about to turn away, equal parts relieved and disappointed, when I heard movement inside. The scrape of a chair, footsteps approaching the door.

It swung open, and Marcus stood there, his expression shifting from guarded to surprised recognition. He wore a loose shirt and worn breeches, and his hair was damp, as if he’d recently bathed.

“Livia?” His voice was soft with disbelief, eyes searching mine with confusion and concern.

I opened my mouth to explain, to manufacture some practical reason for my presence. But nothing came. Instead, to my horror, I felt tears well in my eyes — tears I hadn’t shed in years, not through all the horrors of the arena, not through the degradation of the ludus, not even when I’d been torn from my village.

“I…” My voice broke, and I hated myself for the weakness. “I shouldn’t have come.”

But as I turned to leave, his hand caught mine — not grabbing, not restraining, simply making contact. Warm. Steady. Real.

“Livia,” he said again, his voice gentler than I’d ever heard it. “What happened?”

The genuine concern in his voice undid me completely. I looked up at him, no longer Lady Cantius, no longer even the hardened gladiator, but simply myself — lost, angry, and terribly, terribly tired of fighting alone.

“I need you,” I said.