Page 28 of City of Secrets and Shadows (Empire of Vengeance #2)

28

I arrived at the training grounds well before dawn, watching the sky transform from black to deep indigo. The still surface of the obstacle course lake reflected the fading stars like polished obsidian. In the quiet morning air, I could hear the muted splashing of the waterfall that fed the lake from the academy’s elaborate aqueduct system.

This early solitude had become a ritual for me — a rare moment of peace before the demands of the day closed in. As the Emperor’s son, every move I made was scrutinized, every decision weighed for its political implications. Here, in these brief moments alone at the academy, I could simply be another man, not the Imperial Heir.

The water trial today would be challenging for Lady Cantius, and it would be a true test of both skill and courage. I found myself unusually concerned about her performance, more so than was appropriate for a fellow cadet — even one I’d personally instructed.

Our early morning swimming lessons had become the highlight of the last few days. There was something about Lady Cantius that defied easy categorization. She carried herself with the confidence of a seasoned warrior, not a sheltered noblewoman. Her insights on the Talfen conflict revealed a mind that questioned rather than accepted — a rarity among the Empire’s elite. And when she moved through the water, there was a fierce determination that spoke of someone accustomed to fighting against currents, both literal and figurative.

“Lord Northreach,” Legate Varius’s voice interrupted my contemplation. “You’re early.”

Varius had served my father for years before accepting his position in the Academy. Although he had not mentioned my identity in front of the other students, I was fairly certain it was him whom my father was receiving reports about my progress from.

I turned to face him, automatically straightening my posture. “I wanted to assess the course conditions before the trials begin.”

He nodded approvingly. “Always thorough. Your father would be pleased.”

I doubted that. My father was seldom pleased with anything I did, but I kept that thought to myself. “Have there been any changes to the course since our last attempt?”

Varius gestured toward the far end of the lake. “We’ve added submerged obstacles in the final stretch. And the waterfall crossing will be running at full volume today.”

My eyes narrowed as I studied the course. During our previous attempt two weeks ago, half the cadets had failed to complete it. With these added challenges, the failure rate would likely be higher.

“The conditions seem unnecessarily harsh,” I observed carefully. “Especially for those still mastering basic swimming techniques.”

Varius’s weathered face hardened. “War is harsh, Lord Northreach. The northern rivers don’t become more forgiving because a cadet is unprepared.”

I inclined my head, accepting the rebuke. “Of course. I merely thought—”

“Your concern for your fellow cadets is admirable,” he cut in, his tone softening slightly. “But remember, those who cannot meet the standard have no place among the Dragon Elites. Better to wash out here than die in battle.”

The words were familiar — standard academy doctrine. Once, I’d accepted them without question. Now, after my conversation with Legatus Santius, I wondered how many potentially valuable riders we lost to this unforgiving approach. If the Talfen truly had their own dragons, as Santius claimed, we would need every capable rider we could train, not just those who excelled at arbitrary trials.

“The others will be arriving soon,” Varius said, glancing toward the main academy buildings where lights were beginning to appear in the windows. “Prepare yourself, Lord Northreach. I expect you to set the standard today.”

I nodded, watching him stride away to make final preparations for the trial. Despite my seemingly privileged position, Varius had shown me no leniency in his trials. If anything, he drove me harder than the other cadets, knowing my failure would reflect poorly on the academy in the Emperor’s eyes.

As the sky lightened to pale lavender, the other cadets began to arrive in small groups. Valeria appeared with her usual entourage — Cassia and Drusilla flanking her like ceremonial guards. All three were daughters of high-ranking Imperial officials, their positions at the academy as much a result of their family connections as their abilities. Valeria, in particular, had made it clear on numerous occasions that she considered herself my most appropriate match, a political alliance her father no doubt encouraged. Gods help me if she ever found out who I really was.

“Jalend,” she called, abandoning formality as she approached. “You’re looking particularly determined this morning.”

I offered a polite bow, though inside I seethed at what they had done to Lady Cantius. “Lady Valeria. Ladies. Are you prepared for today’s trials?”

Cassia tossed her golden hair, a practiced gesture of nonchalance. “Of course. Though I hear they’ve made the course more challenging this time.”

“To weed out the unworthy,” Drusilla added with a meaningful glance toward the path where Lady Cantius had just appeared.

She walked alone, her posture straight and her expression focused. Unlike most female cadets who wore their hair elaborately braided even for training, her dark hair was pulled back in a simple style that emphasized the clean lines of her face. She moved with an economy of motion that spoke of physical discipline, her eyes taking in the course with calculated assessment rather than apprehension.

I found myself watching her longer than was proper, admiring the quiet confidence of her bearing. When she caught my eye, I nodded briefly in acknowledgment before turning back to Valeria’s group.

“The unworthy will reveal themselves soon enough,” I said neutrally. “There’s no need for preliminary judgments.”

Valeria’s smile tightened almost imperceptibly. “Always so diplomatic, Jalend. It’s one of your many admirable qualities.”

She laid her hand on my arm, smiling up at me, and I immediately stepped back out of her reach. I didn’t want to give her even the slightest hint that I might welcome her advances. Even if I was interested, whoever I married would not be up to me, but my father. I had already heard rumours that he was exploring several diplomatic arrangements both within the Empire and on our southern borders.

Her face tightened, but before she could say anything, Legate Varius called for our attention. The full complement of first-year cadets had arrived to watch the trials, though only our team would be attempting the second run of the course. We gathered at the edge of the lake as Varius explained the course and the expectations.

“You will complete four challenges,” he announced, his voice carrying across the water. “First, a deep-water swim across the lake. Second, retrieval of a weighted object from the lake bottom. Third, navigation through the underwater obstacle field. Finally, crossing beneath the waterfall to reach the finishing platform.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping across our assembled faces. “Those who cannot complete all four challenges will be reassigned to ground forces. The Empire has no use for dragon riders who fear water.”

A murmur ran through the group. Reassignment was effectively expulsion from the Elite program, a public acknowledgment of failure that would disgrace both cadet and family.

“You will proceed in groups of five,” Varius continued. “First group: Lord Northreach, Lady Valeria, Lady Cassia, Lady Drusilla, and Lady Cantius.”

We stepped forward as the other cadets moved back to observe. I removed my outer tunic, remaining in the fitted training clothes designed for water exercises. As I prepared myself mentally for the challenges ahead, I noticed Valeria and her companions clustered around Lady Cantius, their voices too low to overhear.

From Lady Cantius’s rigid posture and the smug expressions on the other women’s faces, I could guess the nature of their conversation. The petty politics of the Academy exhausted me, but I had learned long ago that direct intervention often made such situations worse. Lady Cantius would have to navigate these waters on her own.

“Take your positions,” Varius called.

We lined up at the edge of the lake, each of us assuming the diving stance we’d been taught. Lady Cantius stood at the end of the line, her face now a mask of concentration. Whatever Valeria and the others had said seemed forgotten, or at least set aside for the moment.

I bit my lip as the rising sun lit her up from behind. Next to the scantily clad noble women, the short, thin tunic she wore seemed conservative, but the dawn sun had silhouetted her from behind and I could see every curve of her body. She looked over, and I immediately dragged my eyes to hers, giving her a quick nod of encouragement.

This time we had to swim across the lake to the course itself, and although I didn’t doubt her resolve, I was worried three days had not been enough time to build up the stamina she would need.

“Begin!”

I dove cleanly into the water, the shock of cold instantly focusing my mind. Years of training had made me a strong swimmer, and I pulled ahead of the others with powerful strokes. The first challenge — crossing the lake — was primarily a test of endurance rather than skill. I set a steady pace, conserving energy for the more difficult tasks ahead.

Glancing back, I saw Valeria and her companions swimming competently if not exceptionally. Lady Cantius brought up the rear, her technique less refined but effective. She showed none of the panic I’d seen during our early lessons, moving through the water with determined efficiency.

I reached the far side of the lake first, hauling myself onto the small platform to catch my breath before the next challenge. Valeria arrived shortly after, followed by Cassia and Drusilla. Lady Cantius was last, her breathing heavy but controlled as she pulled herself up.

“Well done, Lord Northreach,” Varius acknowledged from his observation boat. “The rest of you, acceptable. Proceed to the second challenge.”

The weighted retrieval was positioned directly below our platform, a series of metal rings attached to the lake bottom approximately fifteen feet down. Each cadet needed to dive, retrieve a ring, and return to the surface — a test of lung capacity and comfort in the underwater environment.

I dove first, cutting cleanly through the surface and angling my body downward. The water grew colder and darker as I descended, but I kept my eyes fixed on the gleaming rings below. Selecting one, I grasped it firmly and pushed off from the lake bottom, ascending quickly toward the light above.

As I broke the surface, ring in hand, I heard the splash of the next diver—Valeria, maintaining her position behind me. I swam to the central platform where Varius waited to verify our retrievals. One by one, the others completed the challenge, each presenting their rings for inspection.

Lady Cantius was again the last to surface, her face slightly pale but her grip on the ring steady. I noticed she had chosen the deepest placement, whether by necessity or strategy, I couldn’t determine. It was an impressive recovery for someone who had been terrified of deep water just days ago.

“Third challenge,” Varius announced. “Navigate the underwater obstacle field to reach the waterfall. You may surface to breathe as needed, but you must pass through all marked sections in sequence.”

This would be the most difficult test for Lady Cantius. The obstacle field required brief periods of underwater swimming through narrow passages, some obscured by swaying water plants, others by deliberately murky water. For someone new to swimming, the combination of restricted vision and limited breath could easily trigger panic.

We dove into the water again, this time spreading out as we each sought the most efficient path through the obstacles. I moved confidently, familiar with the lake’s layout from previous training sessions. The cool clarity of purpose that always accompanied physical challenges settled over me, narrowing my focus to the immediate task.

I was halfway through the obstacle field when I heard a commotion behind me. Surfacing briefly, I saw splashing and struggle where the three noblewomen and Lady Cantius had been swimming. Through the spray, I glimpsed Valeria's arm pressing down on something — or someone — beneath the surface.

Without conscious decision, I reversed direction, cutting through the water with powerful strokes. As I approached, the situation became clear: Lady Cantius had surfaced for air directly in Valeria’s path, and the noblewoman had used the opportunity to force her back underwater, making it appear like an accidental collision.

Cassia and Drusilla hovered nearby, creating a screen that blocked Varius’s view from the observation boat. It was a calculated attack, disguised as competitive jostling.

I reached them just as Lady Cantius broke free, shoving Valeria away with a strength that seemed to surprise all of them. She gulped air, her eyes blazing with a fury that transcended mere indignation. For a moment, she looked like something else entirely — not a struggling cadet, but a warrior accustomed to fighting for her life.

I was about to say something, when Livia brought her arm back suddenly and with a crack, punched Valeria straight in the face. With a shriek, she disappeared under the water, but Livia reached down and dragged her up coughing and spluttering.

“Touch me again, and I’ll drown you myself,” Livia snarled, her voice low enough that only those of us in the water could hear.

Blood streamed from Valeria’s nose, diluting in pink swirls as it hit the water. Her eyes widened with shock — clearly, no one had ever dared strike her before. Behind her, Cassia and Drusilla froze, their mouths agape.

I suppressed a smile. “Ladies,” I said evenly, “perhaps we should focus on completing the trial.”

Valeria’s face contorted with rage. “She attacked me! Did you see that? I’ll have her expelled!”

“I saw you deliberately hold her under,” I replied coldly. Though in truth I had only caught the aftermath. “Strange how Legate Varius’s view was conveniently blocked by your companions.”

Livia was already moving away, powerful strokes carrying her toward the next obstacle. The brief confrontation seemed to have ignited something in her — fear transformed to fury, then to focused determination.

“This isn’t over,” Valeria hissed, pressing a hand to her bleeding nose.

“It is for now,” I said firmly. “Unless you’d prefer to explain to Varius why you’re abandoning the trial.”

Without waiting for her response, I dove beneath the surface again, pushing through the swaying water plants that marked the next passage. Ahead, I could see Livia navigating the obstacles with newfound intensity, her movements decisive and efficient.

I caught up to her as we approached the final challenge — the waterfall crossing. Here, we would need to swim beneath the powerful cascade where it crashed into the lake, fighting against the churning current to reach the platform on the other side. Even experienced swimmers found this test daunting.

She paused at the edge of the churning water, her breath coming in controlled pants as she studied the falls. I surfaced beside her.

“Remember what we practiced,” I said quietly. “Stay deep where the current is weakest. Use short, powerful strokes. Don’t fight the water — move with it.”

Her eyes met mine, clear and focused despite the violence moments earlier. “I remember.”

“Good. I’ll go first, then wait for you on the other side.”

I dove deep, feeling the thunderous pressure of the waterfall above me. The current pushed and pulled, trying to throw me off course, but I maintained my trajectory, surfacing triumphantly on the far side where Varius waited with his evaluation tablet.

“Excellent time, Lord Northreach,” he noted, making a mark. “As expected.”

I turned back to watch the others. Valeria emerged next, her face still streaked with blood but her performance uncompromised. Cassia followed, then Drusilla, both completing the challenge successfully if not impressively. All three clustered together on the platform, whispering and casting glances toward the waterfall, their expressions making it clear they expected — perhaps hoped — that Lady Cantius would fail this final challenge.

But Livia had not yet appeared. Minutes passed with no sign of her. Varius frowned from his boat, moving closer to the waterfall to check for any cadet in distress. I found myself scanning the water with increasing concern, a tightness in my chest that had nothing to do with physical exertion.

Just as Varius raised his hand to signal the safety divers, a dark head broke the surface. I breathed out slowly, realising my heart was hammering in my chest. With a powerful kick, she propelled herself forward, cutting through the churning pool with clean, decisive strokes until she reached the platform.

She was breathing hard, her skin cold from the water, but her eyes burned with triumph, and I was not prepared for the sheer sense of pride that rushed through me as she pulled herself onto the platform.

“Acceptable, Lady Cantius,” Varius announced, his tone betraying a hint of surprise. “All candidates have successfully completed the water trial.”

Livia nodded, water streaming from her hair as she stood tall on the platform. The rising sun caught the droplets cascading down her shoulders, making them shimmer like liquid fire. There was a fierce pride in her stance that commanded respect, despite her exhaustion and the water streaming from her simple tunic that now clung to her body like a second skin.

I couldn’t help but stare. The wet fabric revealed every curve, every line of her body, and something primal stirred within me. I forced my gaze away, focusing on Varius as he made his final notes.

Valeria’s face twisted with poorly concealed rage. Her nose had begun to swell, the bruising already visible beneath her pale skin. “She assaulted me during the trial,” she hissed, loud enough for Varius to hear. “I demand disciplinary action.”

Varius’s gaze sharpened as he looked between the women. “Is this true, Lady Cantius?”

Livia met his eyes directly. “Lady Valeria held me underwater during the obstacle course. I defended myself.”

“Lies!” Valeria spat. “She attacked me without provocation. Cassia and Drusilla will confirm it.”

On cue, both women nodded vigorously, their expressions perfectly synchronized in righteous indignation.

“I saw everything, Legate,” I said, stepping forward. The words left my mouth before I could consider the political ramifications. “Lady Valeria deliberately obstructed Lady Cantius, forcing her under. It was a calculated action, not an accidental collision. Lady Cantius simply acted in self defence.”

Varius’s eyes narrowed as he looked between us. I knew what he was calculating — the political weight of Valeria’s family against my word as the Emperor’s son, even if that identity remained unofficial among the cadets.

“Is that so?” He turned to Livia. “And you responded by striking a fellow cadet?”

Livia lifted her chin, water still dripping from her hair down her neck. “I did. She tried to drown me. I made it clear that wouldn’t happen again.”

A murmur ran through the gathered students. Physical altercations between cadets were forbidden, but so was deliberate sabotage during trials. Both offenses carried severe penalties.

“This matter will be investigated,” Varius said finally. “Both of you will report to my office after the morning meal. For now, the water trial is concluded. Dismissed.”

As the group dispersed, Valeria brushed past Livia, her shoulder deliberately colliding with the other woman’s. Livia rolled her eyes, but ignored her, looking up at me instead. I fell in next to her as I walked back around the lake towards the academy buildings. As we moved away from the lake, I found myself unusually conscious of her presence beside me, of the grace with which she moved despite her exhaustion.

“Congratulations,” I said quietly. “That was impressively resourceful.”

She glanced up, a wariness in her eyes that softened slightly as she registered my sincerity. “Thank you for the swimming lessons, Lord Northreach. They proved invaluable today.”

“You’re a quick study,” I acknowledged. “And it’s Jalend. Though I don’t recall teaching you to fight off attacks in the water.”

A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Some lessons I’ve learned on my own. Though maybe that could be featured in our next lesson?”

I blinked. Was she… insinuating something? I felt my chest tighten at the thought, and not unpleasantly. But something else in her tone caught my attention. Again, I had the sense that Lady Cantius was more than she appeared to be. The way she’d fought off Valeria underwater had not been the reflexive struggle of a noble-born woman, but the calculated counter of someone trained to combat.

“Lady Cantius—” I began, not entirely sure what I intended to say.

“Livia,” she corrected, then looked surprised at her own informality.

“Livia,” I repeated, the name feeling right somehow. “I hope you won’t allow today’s... difficulties... to discourage you.”

Her eyes met mine, steady and unafraid. “It takes more than a few spoiled nobles to discourage me… Jalend.”

Gods, I liked hearing my name on her lips.

When we reached the path that would take us back to the academy proper, she paused. “Thank you again for your assistance. With the swimming lessons and... today.”

I understood her meaning. “Valeria and her friends can be challenging opponents. But you handled them admirably.”

A shadow crossed her face. “I’ve faced worse opponents than spoiled noble girls.”

The way she said it sent a chill through me. Not because I feared for her, but because I believed her. There was something in her eyes — a depth of experience that made me wonder about her. Before I could inquire what she meant, she offered a formal bow and departed, leaving me with the distinct impression that I had just glimpsed the edge of a much larger mystery.

As I watched her walk away, I realized with some discomfort that I was already looking forward to seeing her again, of unravelling more about Lady Livia Cantius.

Such thoughts were dangerous. As the Imperial Heir, my personal attachments were matters of state policy, not private choice. My father had made it abundantly clear that my eventual marriage would be a political alliance, not a love match. Developing feelings for a minor provincial noble with questionable connections would be seen as not just inappropriate but potentially treasonous.

And yet, as I changed into dry clothes and prepared for the day’s theoretical lectures, I found my thoughts returning to her again and again.