Page 25 of City of Secrets and Shadows (Empire of Vengeance #2)

25

I arrived at the training pool in the east wing while darkness still clung to the city. Dawn was just a promise on the horizon, the first tentative glow barely visible through the high arched windows that lined the chamber. The water lay perfectly still, reflecting the flickering torchlight like a dark mirror.

My body ached pleasantly from the night spent in Marcus’s arms. I’d woken wrapped in his embrace, feeling safer than I had in days. He insisted on making me breakfast — a simple meal of bread, fruit, and cheese, but prepared with such care it might as well have been a feast at the Emperor’s table. Then he walked me back to the academy, staying in the shadows until I was safely inside. I could tell he was jealous when I mentioned my swimming lesson with Jalend, though he tried to hide it.

“The noble lord who came to your rescue,” he’d said, his voice carefully neutral. “Interesting timing.”

I’d laughed, assuring him there was nothing to be jealous of. As if someone like Lord Jalend Northreach — wealthy, educated, and insufferably proper — would ever look twice at me beyond his sense of duty. Besides, I had enough to deal with him and Septimus. And Tarshi, I had added to myself quietly. Still, Marcus had kissed me fiercely before letting me go, as if marking his territory.

Now, alone in the cavernous pool chamber, I felt exposed in the thin tunic I was using for swimming. The fabric clung to my skin in a way that would leave little to the imagination once wet, but it covered the scars, and that was what I needed. I paced along the edge of the pool, my bare feet silent against the cool stone, wondering if I should simply leave before Jalend arrived. The thought of facing him after he’d seen me so vulnerable made my stomach twist.

“You’re early.” His voice echoed slightly in the chamber, causing me to turn abruptly.

Jalend stood in the doorway, a folded towel over one arm. He wore only a thin robe over his loincloth, and I forced my eyes to stay fixed on his face.

“I believe punctuality is a virtue, my lord,” I replied, keeping my voice steady.

He approached, setting his towel down beside the pool. “Indeed it is, Lady Cantius. One I appreciate.” His eyes, that unsettling shade of amber that seemed to shift in different lights, studied me for a moment. “How are you feeling? After yesterday’s... incident.”

I stiffened. “I’d prefer not to discuss it.”

“Of course.” He nodded, seeming genuinely respectful of my boundaries. “I only wished to say that Varin will not be returning to the academy. His behaviour was unacceptable. The matter has been addressed.”

This surprised me. “Addressed? How?”

“Let’s just say my father was quite displeased when I informed him of what happened.” A shadow crossed his face. “Varin has been stripped of his position at the academy and returned to his family’s estate in disgrace.”

The implication hung between us. For Jalend to have that kind of influence with the academy council... his family connections must be even more significant than I’d realized.

“Thank you,” I said simply, unsure what else to add.

He waved away my gratitude. “No need for thanks. It was the right thing to do.” He untied his robe and let it fall, revealing a physique that spoke of years of disciplined training. Lean muscle rippled across his chest and shoulders as he stretched his arms above his head.

I looked away, suddenly finding the water fascinating.

“Shall we begin?” he asked, stepping to the edge of the pool. “How much experience do you have with swimming?”

“Very little,” I admitted truthfully.

“We’ll start with the basics, then.” He slipped into the water with graceful ease, then turned to face me. “The water is warmed from the hypocaust system beneath. It’s quite pleasant.”

I hesitated at the edge. Growing up in a farming village, then spending a decade as a slave hadn’t provided many opportunities for swimming lessons. The idea of being at a disadvantage in front of Jalend — of appearing weak or incapable — rankled.

“I won’t let you drown, Lady Cantius,” he said, a hint of a smile softening his usually stern features. “All Imperial warriors must be comfortable in water. It’s essential for your training. Besides, our second attempt at the water trial is in two days, and I’m not sure they’ll grant us a third attempt.”

Taking a breath, I sat at the edge of the pool and lowered myself in. The water was surprisingly warm, enveloping me up to my shoulders. My tunic immediately clung to my body, and I crossed my arms over my chest, acutely aware of how exposed I was.

“First,” he said, seemingly oblivious to my discomfort, “you need to understand how to float. Your body is naturally buoyant if you relax properly.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered.

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Not a fan of relinquishing control, are you, Lady Cantius?”

“Would you be in my position?” I countered.

“Fair point.” He moved closer. “May I?” he asked, extending his hands.

I nodded reluctantly.

His hands were warm against my back and shoulder as he guided me to lean backward. “Breathe deeply and allow your chest to rise. The air in your lungs will help you float.”

I followed his instructions, trying to ignore the strange intimacy of his touch. As I leaned back, the water rose to my ears, partially muffling the sounds of the chamber.

“Good,” his voice came from what seemed like a great distance. “Now extend your arms out to the sides, like wings.”

The moment I moved my arms, I felt myself starting to sink. Panic flared, and I flailed, splashing water everywhere.

Jalend’s hands caught me firmly around the waist, steadying me. “I’ve got you,” he said, his face suddenly very close to mine. “You need to trust the water — and me.”

Our eyes locked for a moment, and I felt a strange flutter in my chest that had nothing to do with fear of drowning.

“Let’s try again,” he said, his voice softer now. “This time, I’ll support you more until you’re comfortable.”

One arm slid beneath my back, the other beneath my knees, and suddenly I was floating, cradled in his arms. The sensation was peculiar — weightlessness combined with the solid strength of his support.

“Breathe slowly,” he instructed. “Feel the water holding you up. I’m going to gradually remove my support, but I’ll be right here.”

True to his word, he slowly withdrew his arm from beneath my knees, then began to ease his other arm away from my back, leaving just his palm providing minimal support.

“You’re floating on your own now,” he said, pride evident in his voice.

I realized he was right — my body lay suspended at the surface, held aloft by nothing but water and the air in my lungs. A strange exhilaration swept through me.

“It’s... incredible,” I admitted.

“The first time I floated like this, I couldn’t believe it either,” he said, still keeping a hand lightly against my back. “I was five years old, terrified of the water. My father ordered a servant to throw me into a lake and told me to swim back to shore.”

The casual mention of such cruelty from a father startled me. “That seems harsh for a child.”

His face closed off slightly. “My father’s only son isn’t allowed the luxury of fear.”

“I understand that,” I said quietly, and his grey eyes fixed on me for a moment before he nodded, then moved his attention back to our lesson.

“Thank you. Now, shall we continue? Let’s try moving through the water next.”

For the next hour, he patiently taught me the basics of swimming — how to kick my legs, how to use my arms to propel myself forward, how to turn my head to breathe while moving. Despite my initial reluctance, I found myself enjoying the sensation of gliding through the water, the feeling of strength and freedom it provided.

“You’re a quick learner,” he commented as I completed my third lap across the pool’s width. “Most nobles take much longer to master these basics. They’re too concerned about getting their hair wet.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. “Perhaps I’m not like most nobles.”

“No,” he said thoughtfully, “you’re certainly not.”

We paused at the edge of the pool, both breathing a little harder from the exertion. The silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable but charged with something I couldn’t quite name.

Jalend seemed unusually quiet, his gaze distant as he stared across the water.

“Is everything alright?” I asked, surprising myself with the concern in my voice.

He blinked, as if pulling himself from deep thoughts. “Forgive me. I’m a bit distracted this morning.”

“Did something happen?” I ventured, curious about what could trouble someone of his standing.

Jalend hesitated, running a hand through his wet hair. “I met with an old friend last night — a legionary officer stationed at our northern border. The reports he shared were... troubling.”

“The Talfen?” I guessed, immediately regretting how quickly I’d jumped to that conclusion.

He nodded, studying me with renewed interest. “You’re well-informed for someone who’s spent little time in military circles.”

I shrugged, trying to appear casual. “It’s hardly a secret that the Empire’s greatest military concern lies in the north.”

“True enough.” He leaned back against the pool edge. “My friend believes the situation is worsening. The Talfen raids are becoming more organized, pushing deeper into our territory.”

“The academy teachings suggest they’re little more than savages,” I said carefully. “Hardly capable of coordinated military strategy.”

Jalend’s expression grew thoughtful. “And what do you think of those teachings, Lady Cantius? Do you believe everything the Imperial curriculum tells you about our northern neighbours?”

The question felt less abrupt now, a natural extension of our conversation, but no less dangerous. I studied his face, searching for any sign of a trap.

“I think,” I said slowly, “that it’s convenient for the Empire to paint all Talfen as mindless savages. It makes it easier to justify the war.”

Instead of the outrage I half-expected, Jalend nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve read extensive accounts from the border provinces,” he said. “Interviews with traders who deal regularly with Talfen settlements. Historical texts that date back before the current conflicts. They paint a very different picture than what’s taught at the academy.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A dangerous perspective for a nobleman to hold.”

“Which is precisely why I don’t typically share it,” he admitted. “But there’s something about you that suggests you might be open to questioning the official narrative.”

If only he knew how far beyond “questioning” I’d gone. I thought of Tarshi waiting in my quarters, of our bodies entwined in secret, of the resistance meetings we’d begun attending in the lower city.

“I believe,” I said carefully, “that any people who are systematically dehumanized deserve the benefit of deeper consideration. The Talfen may be different from us, but difference doesn’t equate to inferiority.”

His eyes widened slightly at my boldness. “That’s... not the response I expected from someone of your background.”

I immediately realized I’d spoken too freely. “My family own several Talfen slaves,” I improvised. “We’ve had more direct contact than most. It provides a different perspective.”

“Indeed it does.” He moved through the water with easy grace, circling me like a predator might circle prey — though oddly, I didn’t feel threatened. “There are groups in the capital,” he continued, his voice lower now, “who believe the Talfen should have equal standing under Imperial law. That the northern campaigns are unjust and should be ended.”

My heart raced at how close this conversation was veering to the resistance activities Tarshi had drawn me into. “I’ve heard rumours of such groups,” I said neutrally. “They’re considered treasonous by the Imperial Guard, are they not?”

“Officially, yes.” His amber eyes fixed on mine. “Unofficially, I find their arguments increasingly compelling.”

I studied him cautiously. “That’s a dangerous admission.”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged, water rippling around his shoulders. “But I’ve always believed that ideas should be evaluated on their merits, not on how well they conform to existing doctrine.”

“Even when those ideas challenge the very foundations of the Empire?” I asked, genuinely curious about how far his unorthodox thinking went.

“Especially then.” His voice grew passionate. “The Empire has existed for centuries by adapting to changing circumstances. Calcification leads to collapse — that’s the lesson of history.”

I pushed off from the wall, swimming a small circle around him, enjoying the momentary sense of having the upper hand. “How scholarly of you. I didn’t realize the academy produced philosophers as well as warriors.”

He laughed, the sound echoing off the water. “My interests extend beyond military tactics. Much to the disappointment of some of my instructors.”

“So you believe the Talfen are more than the monsters we’re taught to fear?” I pressed, eager to understand the extent of his heretical views.

“I believe they’re people,” he said simply. “With their own culture, values, and civilization. Different from ours, certainly, but no less sophisticated in their own way.”

I thought of Tarshi — his intelligence, his complexity, the gentle way he touched me when we were alone. “And if they were truly people, worthy of the same considerations as Imperial citizens... what then? What would that mean for the war?”

Jalend was quiet for a moment, as if weighing how much to reveal. “It would mean,” he said carefully, “that much of what the Empire has done in the north is not conquest, but something far darker.”

The frankness of his answer surprised me. “You can’t say such things openly in the academy. You’d be expelled.”

“Which is precisely why these conversations happen in empty swimming pools before dawn,” he said with a wry smile. “But tell me, Lady Cantius, what do you think? If the Talfen are people rather than monsters, what does that mean for the Empire’s policies?”

I’d spent so long concealing my true thoughts that speaking them aloud felt like stepping onto thin ice. “It would mean,” I said carefully, “that the Empire’s claims of bringing civilization to savage lands are a lie. That we’ve been the aggressors all along.”

His expression grew serious. “A bold conclusion.”

“You asked for my honest opinion,” I countered.

“So I did. And what about the half-bloods? Those of mixed human and Talfen heritage? Where do they fit in this worldview of yours?”

My throat tightened as I thought of Tarshi. “They belong nowhere,” I said, the truth of it aching in my chest. “Reviled by both sides, trusted by neither.”

“You speak as if you know such people personally,” Jalend observed.

I realized my mistake too late. “I’ve observed how they’re treated,” I said, trying to recover. “In the border regions. It’s... inhumane.”

He studied me so intently I feared he could see through every one of my lies. “I agree,” he said finally. “The treatment of half-bloods is one of the Empire’s greatest shames. Neither fully human nor fully Talfen, they’re denied the protections of either society.”

“You seem unusually well-informed on Talfen matters for someone who’s spent his life in the capital,” I noted, attempting to shift the focus from myself.

A shadow crossed his face. “I’ve made it my business to look beyond official accounts. The truth is rarely found in Imperial proclamations.”

“A cynic as well as a scholar,” I teased, trying to lighten the increasingly dangerous conversation.

“A realist,” he corrected with a smile. “Though I admit, finding someone who shares these views is... unexpected. Especially among the academy’s elite.”

I couldn’t help but smile back. “Perhaps we’re both better at keeping secrets than we appear.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “We should conclude for today,” he said, glancing toward the eastern windows where morning light now streamed into the chamber. “The regular swimming classes will begin soon.”

I realized with surprise how quickly the time had passed. “Same time tomorrow?” I asked, then immediately wondered why I’d suggested it. Another lesson meant another opportunity for him to notice inconsistencies in my story.

“I’d like that,” he said, getting to his feet and offering me his hand. “You’re a fast learner, Lady Cantius. I have a feeling the next water trial is going to prove no hardship for you.”

I took his hand, allowing him to pull me from the pool. Water cascaded down my body, my thin tunic clinging to every curve. I felt his eyes linger for a heartbeat before he handed me a towel. This time, it was my eyes that dropped lower. A droplet traced its way down his chest, following the contours of muscle before disappearing into the waistband of his loincloth. A wet loincloth that clung closely to the contours of his body. I swallowed, and dragged my eyes up to his.

“You flatter me, Lord Jalend,” I said, wrapping the towel around my shoulders. “I’m not sure one lesson transforms me into a capable swimmer, but thank you. For the lesson... and the conversation.”

He nodded, reaching for his own robe. “It’s refreshing to speak openly with someone. Even if only briefly. You’re different than I expected.”

“Is that good or bad?” I asked, busying myself with drying my arms to avoid his gaze.

“Interesting,” he replied. “Which is better than good in a place where most nobles are tediously predictable.”

I laughed despite myself. “Such disdain for your own class, my lord.”

“Not disdain. Disappointment. Most of them will inherit positions of power without ever questioning the systems that granted them those privileges.”

“Like you do?” I challenged.

His grey eyes caught mine. “I try. Though I’m sure I fail more often than I realize.”

As he gathered his things to leave, a question formed in my mind. “Lord Jalend?”

He paused, looking back at me. “Yes?”

“If you believe the war with the Talfen is unjust, what would you do about it? If you had the power to change things?”

He considered the question seriously. “I would start by acknowledging that they are people, not monsters. That their territories and customs deserve respect. I would open diplomatic channels, offer trade agreements instead of military threats.” He paused. “And I would grant citizenship to those Talfen already living within our borders, ending the practice of forced labour and conscription.”

The vision he described was so similar to what my parents had died for that I felt a lump form in my throat. “The Emperor would never allow such radical changes.”

A strange smile crossed his face. “Perhaps not. But times change. Leaders change. The Empire has survived for centuries by adapting to new realities.”

“You sound almost hopeful,” I observed.

“I am,” he said simply. “Change is inevitable. The only question is whether we guide it or are swept away by it.”

With that enigmatic statement, he bowed slightly and departed, leaving me standing alone by the pool, water dripping from my hair and a dangerous new complication forming in my heart.

Because for just a moment, I had glimpsed a possible future for the Empire that didn’t require bloodshed — a future guided by thoughtful people like Jalend, who saw beyond the Empire’s propaganda. A future that might make my parents’ sacrifice meaningful without requiring me to become an assassin.

It was a dangerous thought. Far more dangerous than any attraction I might feel toward the arrogant nobleman who had just left. Because it threatened to undermine the vengeance that had sustained me through years of slavery and hardship.

I wrapped the towel more tightly around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm air. Jalend Northreach was either a genuine ally in the struggle for justice or the most convincing performer I’d ever encountered. And I couldn’t afford to be wrong about which one he truly was.

As I dressed and prepared to return to my quarters, I wondered what Tarshi would say about this unexpected conversation. Would he see Jalend as a potential ally for the resistance? Or would he warn me that the privileged rarely surrender their advantages willingly, regardless of their pretty words?

More troubling still was the realization that I wanted to believe Jalend. Wanted to believe that change could come through something other than violence and vengeance. After all the blood I’d spilled in the arena, after all the hatred I’d nursed for a decade, the possibility of another path felt like water to a woman dying of thirst.

But I’d been deceived before. By Drusus, by the Empire, by those who claimed to have my best interests at heart. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down now, no matter how compelling Jalend’s vision of a better Empire might be.