Page 31 of City of Secrets and Shadows (Empire of Vengeance #2)

31

“ H old still,” Tavi commanded, her fingers expertly weaving golden threads through my hair. “You’re worse than a fidgeting child.”

“It pulls,” I complained, wincing as she tugged a strand particularly tight.

“Beauty requires suffering, darling.” Her tone was imperious, but her eyes, reflected in the mirror before me, sparkled with amusement. “Especially when one is masquerading as nobility.”

I sighed, submitting to her ministrations. The woman staring back from the mirror was nearly unrecognizable — her skin smoothed with expensive creams, her eyes enhanced with subtle pigments, her lips tinted a soft rose. Lady Livia Cantius, scion of a distant noble house, rather than Livia the gladiator, the slave, the avenger.

“There,” Tavi said, stepping back to admire her work. “You’ll be the envy of every woman at the ball and the desire of every man. Not bad for a girl who spent most of her life covered in sand and blood.”

I turned my head, watching how the golden threads caught the light, woven through an elaborate arrangement of braids and curls. “It’s beautiful, Tavi. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We still have to get you into that monstrosity of a dress.”

The “monstrosity” in question was hanging on a wooden frame nearby — an incredibly beautiful creation of crimson red silk and gold embroidery that had cost more than most people in the city earned in a year. Marcus had procured it through connections I didn’t dare ask about.

As Tavi helped me into the gown, lacing the complicated back with practiced hands, I studied her reflection. Her own beauty was effortless — tawny skin, cat-like amber eyes, a body that moved with the fluid grace of a dancer. Since gaining her freedom, she’d embraced life with a ferocity that sometimes left me breathless.

“How’s your man?” I asked, remembering the handsome date she’d had the week before she’d been seeing.

Tavi’s hands paused momentarily. “Ended it last night.”

“What? Why? I thought you liked him.”

“I did. He was sweet. Respectful.” She shrugged, resuming her lacing. “Too respectful, in the end.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Too respectful?”

“After the arena, after everything we’ve survived…” She met my eyes in the polished bronze mirror. “I need a man with some fire in him. Some danger. Decimus was too... tame.”

I laughed. “Only you would find an Imperial guardsman ‘tame.’”

“Says the woman who’s juggling two gladiators.” She gave the laces a final tug. “Some of us need a bit of a beast in our lovers. Someone who understands what we are.”

“And what are we, exactly?”

Her smile turned contemplative. “Survivors. Predators pretending to be pets.” She stepped back, surveying her work with satisfaction. “There. Turn.”

I did as instructed, the deep crimson stola falling in elegant folds around my body. The fine silk draped from gold clasps at my shoulders, gathered beneath my breasts with an embroidered belt that emphasized my waist. The fabric flowed to the floor in straight, dignified lines, concealing the muscled legs beneath while hints of gold thread caught the light with each movement. The neckline was modest enough for an official ceremony yet revealed just enough collarbone and throat to draw the eye. Over my shoulders, a matching palla of lighter weight silk could be drawn as a veil if needed. It was the perfect disguise — patrician, regal, and utterly unlike anything the gladiator Livia would have worn. I absolutely loved it.

“Perfect,” Tavi declared. “Those stuffy nobles won’t know what hit them.”

A knock at the door interrupted us. Tavi opened it to find Marcus, Septimus, and Tarshi waiting in the hallway. The expressions on their faces as they saw me were worth every minute of the tedious preparation.

Marcus stepped forward first, his eyes wide with wonder. “Livia, you’re... breathtaking.”

Septimus merely stared, something raw and unguarded in his expression that made my heart ache. Only Tarshi maintained his composure, though a slow smile spread across his face.

“Our very own noble lady,” Marcus said, executing a perfect courtly bow. “The deception is complete.”

“Not quite,” Tarshi said. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small box. “To complete the look.”

Inside the box lay a delicate gold necklace with a pendant shaped like a dragon in flight. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the dragon’s tiny scales catching the light as I lifted it.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed.

“And appropriate,” Septimus said. “The symbol of your supposed house.”

Septimus took the necklace, moving behind me to fasten it around my neck. His fingers were warm against my skin, lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary. Our eyes met in the mirror, and something passed between us — an acknowledgment of the confession we’d shared nights ago, the love we’d finally spoken aloud after thirteen years of silence.

“There,” he said softly. “Now you’re ready.”

I turned to face my three companions — the men who had become my family, my strength, my reason for surviving. “Thank you. All of you. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

“Just remember why we’re doing this,” Septimus said, his voice low. “Don’t get caught up in the glamour of it all. These people — they’re the enemy.”

“I know exactly who they are,” I assured him, the weight of my purpose settling over me like armour. “I haven’t forgotten.”

How could I, when the memory of Arilius’s blood on my hands was still so fresh? When each night I dreamed of Tarus dying in my arms? When the purpose that had driven me for thirteen years was so close to fulfilment?

“The bells are ringing,” Marcus reminded us. “You should go.”

I nodded, gathering my skirts in one hand. At the door, I paused, looking back at them — my protectors, my lovers, my fellow conspirators. “I’ll see you all afterward. Don’t wait up.”

“Be careful,” Septimus called after me.

As I descended the stairs, I steeled myself for the evening ahead. Tonight would be a test — not just of my acting abilities, but of whether my weeks of preparation had been enough. The acceptance ceremony would officially reveal if I’d earned my place at the academy, the crucial next step in my long-planned vengeance.

I would smile and dance and make polite conversation with Imperial nobility who had no idea of my true identity. I would play the part of the eager, honoured initiate, grateful for the opportunity to serve the very Empire I had sworn to bring down.

And all the while, beneath the silk and jewels, beneath the practiced courtesies and demure smiles, I would be counting the days until I could finally fulfil the promise to my family I’d made over my brother’s broken body thirteen years ago.

The academy’s Grand Hall had been transformed for the evening, its austere military character softened by garlands of laurel and golden banners bearing the Imperial eagle. Hundreds of oil lamps illuminated the vast space, their flames reflecting in the polished marble floor that had known the footsteps of generations of dragon riders. Carriages lined the avenue leading to the academy’s imposing gates, disgorging nobles in their finery as uniformed cadets stood at attention, serving as honour guards for the occasion.

My own arrival passed without particular notice — I was, after all, merely a minor noble from a distant province, presumably just one among many new initiates. The real spectacle would come later, when the Emperor himself arrived to bestow his blessing on the newest class of Dragon Riders who would serve his realm.

Inside, the Hall struck an impressive balance between military grandeur and ceremonial elegance. The high ceiling with its exposed timber beams had been festooned with the banners of famous dragon squadrons. The usual training equipment had been replaced with dining tables covered in fine linens and laden with silver. Around the perimeter, display cases highlighted historic artifacts of the academy — ancient saddles, ceremonial weapons, and portraits of legendary riders. Everything was designed to remind us of the privilege and responsibility of our position, of the lineage we were about to join — and the Empire we were sworn to serve.

Pages announced the names of arriving guests, their voices carrying over the music and conversation: “Lord and Lady Ventidius of the Eastern Province.” “Patrician Erelian of Nemea.” “Lady Livia Cantius, of the Southern Province.”

Heads turned briefly at my announcement, a few curious glances appraising the newcomer before returning to their conversations. I descended the marble staircase with careful grace, remembering Octavia’s lessons on deportment. Back straight. Chin up. Small steps. The picture of noble breeding.

I scanned the crowd as I reached the bottom of the staircase, maintaining my practiced smile. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I was hoping Jalend would be there. The evening seemed a lot less daunting if I could hope for his company.

My eyes caught a familiar figure across the room – Valeria, standing among her circle of sycophants like a queen among peasants, her face partially concealed behind an elaborate golden mask that couldn’t quite hide the bandages beneath. Our gazes locked, and the hatred in her eyes could have melted steel. I allowed my smile to widen ever so slightly, inclining my head in a gesture that was just short of mockery.

“You know,” came a cynical voice from behind me. “Most initiates try to avoid making enemies of well-connected nobles before they even get accepted to the academy.”

I smiled, turning to find Jalend standing beside me, two glasses of clear golden liquid in his hand. He passed one to me, and I took a sip. The wine was cool and sweet, with an undertone of something sharper that prickled my tongue. Expensive. I savoured it before answering.

“I find life is more interesting with a few well-chosen enemies,” I replied, meeting his eyes over the rim of my glass. “Besides, she made her choice when she attacked me.”

Jalend’s eyes travelled over me, taking in the crimson silk, the golden threads in my hair, the dragon pendant at my throat. His gaze was different from the others — not leering or calculating, but appreciative in a way that sent warmth through me despite myself. Something in his gaze changed, darkened, and I felt a flush rise to my cheeks that had nothing to do with the wine.

“You clean up well for a provincial,” he said finally, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“You sound surprised.” I tilted my head. “Did you expect me to show up in leather and chain mail?”

“I wouldn’t have complained.” His voice dropped lower, intimate despite the crowd surrounding us. “Though I must admit, the silk has its own... appeal. I find myself increasingly curious about the woman beneath all these... layers.”

The heat in his gaze made my skin tingle. I took another sip of wine to cover my reaction. “And you? I didn’t expect to see the academy’s most notorious cynic at a formal ceremony full of shallow nobles.”

“Notorious?” He raised an eyebrow. “Is that what they’re saying about me now?”

“Among other things.”

He laughed, a genuine sound that transformed his usually stern face. “I’m sure most of it is true. As for why I’m here…” He gestured with his glass at the opulent surroundings. “Mandatory attendance. Even notorious cynics must occasionally bow to protocol.”

“How terribly inconvenient for you,” I said, matching his dry tone.

“Excruciating.” He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “Though the evening has suddenly become more... tolerable.”

The orchestra began a new piece, and around us, couples moved toward the centre of the hall where a space had been cleared for dancing.

“I believe,” Jalend said, setting down his empty glass on a nearby table, “this is where I’m supposed to ask you to dance.”

“Is that what they teach at the academy? Social obligation disguised as an invitation?”

His mouth curved into a half-smile. “They teach us many ways to disguise our true intentions.”

“And what are your true intentions, Lord Northreach?”

“To scandalize the entire academy by dancing with the initiate who humiliated Valeria Nemean in front of half the nobility of the capital.” He extended his hand. “Unless you’re afraid?”

“Of Valeria? Hardly.”

“Of me, perhaps?”

I met his challenge with one of my own. “Should I be?”

“Absolutely.” The word was almost a purr.

I placed my hand in his, letting him lead me to the dance floor. “Then it’s fortunate I’ve never been particularly wise when it comes to danger.”

Jalend’s hand settled at my waist, firm and warm through the silk of my stola. He guided me into the dance with practiced ease, his movements precise without being stiff.

“You dance well,” I observed as we moved through the first figures of the dance.

“One of many useless skills required of Imperial nobility.” He executed a perfect turn. “Though I find most formal dances tedious — elaborate patterns designed to keep people at a proper distance while maintaining the illusion of intimacy.”

“How cynical.” I matched his steps as he guided me through another turn. “Perhaps you’ve simply never had the right partner.”

His eyes darkened. “Perhaps.”

Around us, other couples twirled and stepped in time to the music — academy instructors with their spouses, senior cadets with noble daughters, Imperial officials with their wives. I caught glimpses of Valeria watching us from the edge of the dance floor, her expression murderous even behind her mask.

“Your admirer looks displeased,” Jalend murmured, following my gaze.

“Jealousy is an ugly emotion.”

“Is that what you think it is? Jealousy?”

“What else would you call it?”

His hand tightened slightly at my waist as he pulled me a fraction closer than the dance required. “Recognition, perhaps. That you represent something she can never be, no matter how many golden masks she hides behind.”

“And what might that be?”

“Authentic.” The word was simple, direct, yet delivered with an intensity that caught me off guard. “There’s something genuine about you, Livia Cantius. Even in this setting, playing this role, you’re more real than most of the people who’ve spent their entire lives in these circles.”

I nearly missed a step, thrown by the unexpected insight. This was dangerous territory. If Jalend sensed something “authentic” about me, what else might he detect?

“Careful, Jalend,” I recovered quickly, forcing a light tone. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“I’m as surprised as you are.” His voice regained its sardonic edge. “Must be the wine.”

The music shifted, the tempo increasing. Jalend responded seamlessly, his movements becoming more fluid, more dynamic. I followed his lead, grateful for the hours Octavia had spent drilling me in these dances.

“Tell me,” he said as we circled each other, palms barely touching, “what made you choose the academy? The provinces must offer safer, more comfortable prospects for a noblewoman.”

“Perhaps I don’t care for safe or comfortable.”

“So it’s adventure you seek? The glory of riding dragons into battle for the Empire?”

I heard the scepticism in his voice. “You don’t believe that’s a worthy motivation?”

“I believe there are easier ways to find adventure than submitting to military discipline and risking your life on the back of a temperamental dragon.” His eyes studied mine. “I think you’re running from something. Or toward something.”

“And you?” I countered, unwilling to let him push further. “What made you enter the trials when you could be arguing with far more appropriate opponents in the political courts?”

Something flickered across his face — a shadow, quickly banished. “Perhaps I too am running from something. Or toward something.”

“How evasive. And here I thought we were having an honest conversation.”

“Honesty is overrated at events like these.” He guided me through a complex series of turns. “Most people here wouldn’t recognize the truth if it flew in on dragonback and breathed fire at their feet.”

“And you’re different?”

“I’m worse.” His smile was sharp, almost predatory. “I recognize the truth and sometimes choose to ignore it anyway.”

The music was building toward its finale, and Jalend pulled me closer, his arm firm around my waist.

“You never answered my question,” he said, his voice low. “Why the academy, Lady Cantius?”

I met his gaze, deciding to offer a version of the truth. “My family died when I was young. I spent years being passed between distant relatives who saw me as a burden. The academy offers purpose, independence. A chance to belong to something larger than myself.”

His expression softened almost imperceptibly. “A noble sentiment.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in noble sentiments.”

“I’m making an exception.” He executed the final turn of the dance, bringing us face to face, closer than propriety strictly allowed. “You’re rather good at making me question my established patterns, Lady Cantius.”

The music ended, and for a moment we remained still, neither moving to step away.

“You should be careful with that,” I said quietly. “I might not be the safest person to question anything with.”

“Now who’s being cynical?” His smile returned, though his eyes remained serious. “Besides, I’ve never had much interest in safety either.”

He released me and stepped back, offering a formal bow as the other dancers applauded the musicians. But his eyes never left mine, that same intensity burning in them.

“The acceptance announcements will be soon,” he said as he straightened. “Nervous?”

“Should I be?”

“Not if your performance with Sirrax was any indication.” He gestured toward a long table where servants were arranging scrolls. “Though the competition was fierce this year.”

Before I could formulate a response to this uncomfortably perceptive observation, a ripple of anticipation moved through the crowd. Conversations quieted, heads turned toward the main entrance.

“It seems our benevolent Emperor has arrived,” Jalend said, his voice dropping with unmistakable sarcasm.

A gong sounded, and the hall fell silent as a herald stepped forward, his voice ringing out over the assembled guests.

“His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Valorian the Third, Lord of the Seven Provinces, Protector of the Empire, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces.”

I looked toward the entrance, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest. After thirteen years of hatred and planning, I was about to see the man responsible for the destruction of my village, for the deaths of my family, for the enslavement that had defined most of my life.

The man I had sworn to kill.