Page 6 of City of Secrets and Shadows (Empire of Vengeance #2)

6

T he apartment was small but clean, tucked away on the third floor of a narrow building in the merchant district. Marcus led us up the creaking wooden stairs, past doors with peeling paint and the occasional suspicious stain. Not the seediest part of the city by far, but not somewhere imperial patrols would bother with either.

“It’s nothing grand,” Marcus said over his shoulder, a touch of embarrassment in his voice. “But it’s safe.”

“Anything with four walls and a roof is luxury after the ludus,” I replied, following close behind him. My heart still hadn’t settled after our reunion at the tavern. Marcus, here. Marcus, alive and searching for me. Marcus, whose absence had left a hole I’d tried to fill with vengeance and the company of the two men trailing behind us.

He paused at a door near the end of the hallway, fishing a key from his pocket. “Octavia’s probably waiting up. She’ll be overjoyed to see you.”

Before he could turn the key, the door flew open, revealing Octavia — thinner than I remembered, her dark eyes wide with anticipation.

“Tavi,” I breathed, hardly able to believe it.

“Livia!” She threw herself at me with surprising force, nearly knocking me backward into Septimus. Her arms wrapped around me so tightly I could barely breathe, but I didn’t care. I hugged her back just as fiercely, burying my face in her shoulder as tears threatened.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “When Marcus said he’d found you, I couldn’t believe it.”

We clung to each other a moment longer before she pulled back, holding me at arm’s length to examine me. “Look at you,” she said, smiling through tears. “Still in one piece somehow.”

Then her gaze moved past me, registering the men behind me. Her smile faltered slightly at the sight of Tarshi, but she recovered quickly, stepping back to usher us all inside. “Come in, come in. It’s not safe to linger in hallways.”

The apartment was simple but surprisingly homey. A small main room with a sturdy wooden table, a few chairs, and a worn couch. A cooking area in one corner, a narrow doorway presumably leading to a bedroom. Someone — Octavia, I guessed — had hung faded fabric along one wall in an attempt to brighten the space. A half-finished basket of weaving sat beside one chair.

“It’s not much,” Octavia said, echoing Marcus’s earlier sentiment as she closed and locked the door behind us. “But it’s ours. For now, at least.”

“It’s perfect,” I assured her, meaning it. After weeks of sleeping on the ground or in filthy inns, this modest apartment felt like a palace.

An awkward silence fell as the five of us stood in the small space, suddenly aware of how cramped it would be with all of us living here. Marcus cleared his throat.

“The women can take the bedroom,” he said. “We men will make do out here.”

Septimus eyed the narrow couch dubiously. “All three of us?”

“There are blankets,” Marcus replied, gesturing to a corner where I could see rolled blankets stacked. “We’ll manage.”

Tarshi remained near the door, his posture slightly tense. I knew that look — he was calculating exits, assessing potential threats, preparing for rejection. The same wariness he’d shown when first brought to the ludus. My heart ached for him, but I couldn’t cross the room to offer reassurance. Not with everyone watching.

“You must be exhausted,” Octavia said, breaking the tension as she took my arm. “Come, I’ll show you the bedroom. We can talk while the men sort themselves out.”

I allowed her to lead me through the narrow doorway into an even smaller room dominated by a bed just wide enough for two people to sleep comfortably if they didn’t mind touching. A small window overlooked an alley, and a chipped basin for washing sat atop a three-legged table. Like the main room, Octavia had done her best to make it welcoming — a pot of scraggly wildflowers sat on the windowsill, and the bed was neatly made with what looked like freshly washed linens.

“I changed the bedding this morning,” she said, following my gaze. “I always hoped...”

She didn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t need to. I understood. She’d been preparing for my arrival, never giving up hope that Marcus would find me. The thought sent a wave of warmth through me.

“Thank you, Tavi,” I said softly, squeezing her hand.

She beamed at me, then began bustling around the small space, showing me where she’d made room for my few possessions in a small trunk at the foot of the bed. I half-listened, my mind still reeling from the events of the evening. Marcus was back. Octavia was here. We had enough gold to fund our plan. The path to vengeance was clearer than it had ever been.

“—listening to me at all?” Octavia’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I blinked, focusing on her face. “Sorry, I’m just... overwhelmed.”

Her expression softened. “Of course you are.” She patted the bed beside her, and I sat down gratefully. “It’s been quite a night for you, hasn’t it?”

I nodded, suddenly exhausted. “I never expected to see Marcus again. Or you.”

“He was like a man possessed,” Octavia said, her voice lowering conspiratorially despite the closed door separating us from the men. “From the moment we escaped the ludus, all he could talk about was finding you. Following you. Making things right.”

A lump formed in my throat. “He didn’t need to. I never blamed him for staying behind.”

Octavia gave me a look that said she knew better. “Didn’t you?”

I looked away, unable to deny it. Part of me had blamed him. Had felt betrayed that he hadn’t chosen me, hadn’t trusted me enough to leap into the unknown. That betrayal had fuelled my determination to forge ahead without him, to prove I didn’t need him or anyone else.

“It doesn’t matter now,” I said, pushing aside the complicated emotions. “He’s here. You’re here. We have a plan.”

“Yes, about that plan,” Octavia said, her tone shifting to one of concern. “Marcus told me what you intend. Killing the Emperor? Livia, that’s suicide.”

“So everyone keeps telling me,” I replied, an edge creeping into my voice.

“Because it’s true!” She grabbed my hands, forcing me to look at her. “The Emperor is the most heavily guarded man in the Empire. Even if you somehow got close enough to strike, you’d never escape alive.”

“I don’t care if I escape,” I said, the truth I’d been hiding from the men spilling out. “I only care that he pays for what he did to my family. To my village.”

Octavia’s face paled. “You don’t mean that. What about Marcus? What about your freedom, everything you fought for?”

I pulled my hands away, standing to pace the small room. “My freedom means nothing while the man who ordered my family butchered still sits on his golden throne. My brother died trying to protect me, Tavi. My parents were executed for trying to broker peace. I owe them justice.”

“And you owe yourself a life,” she countered, rising to face me. “Your family wouldn’t want you throwing away your hard-won freedom on a suicide mission.”

It was an argument I’d had with myself countless times since escaping the ludus. What would my parents say if they could see me now? What would Tarus think of the path I’d chosen?

“You didn’t know my family,” I said finally, my voice softer. “But I appreciate your concern, Tavi. Truly.”

She studied me for a long moment, then sighed. “You always were stubborn as a mule. Even as a child.”

That startled a laugh from me. “You barely knew me as a child! We met at the ludus.”

“And you arrived already stubborn,” she said, grinning at me. “Now, enough of this grim talk for tonight. Tell me about your journey. How did you end up with Septimus and the half-breed in tow?”

I tensed at her casual use of ‘half-breed.’ “His name is Tarshi.”

“Tarshi, then,” she amended, looking slightly taken aback by my sharp tone. “I’m just surprised you brought him, that’s all. After everything the Empire says about the Talfen—”

“Not everything the Empire says is true,” I cut in. “Surely you know that by now. He’s not what you think.”

She blinked, then nodded slowly. “You’re right, of course. And I’ll admit, they seem more... accepted here in the Imperial City than I expected. There’s a woman who comes to my market stall sometimes — half-Talfen, clear as day with those eyes, but she’s no slave. Runs a shop selling herbs and tonics.”

This was surprising news. In the provincial towns, half-breeds were almost always enslaved, considered barely better than animals. “See? The Empire’s propaganda doesn’t tell the whole story.”

“Perhaps,” Octavia conceded. “Perhaps they’re just more civilized here. But you haven’t answered my question. How did you end up traveling with... Tarshi? And Septimus?”

I settled back onto the bed, choosing my words carefully. I wasn’t ready to tell Octavia about my relationship with Tarshi — not when she was clearly still so uncomfortable with him just being in the rooms with us.

And certainly not when I couldn’t explain the complicated feelings I still harboured for Marcus, or the lingering affection for Septimus despite his betrayal.

“They were the only ones who chose to escape with me,” I said finally. “When the dragon broke free, everything was chaos. Most gladiators ran for the exits, but Septimus and Tarshi followed me. We’ve been traveling together ever since.”

“And now Marcus has found you,” Octavia said, a knowing gleam in her eye. “Quite the reunion.”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “It’s not like that, Tavi.”

“Isn’t it?” she asked lightly. “The way he looks at you hasn’t changed, you know. Like you hang the moon and stars.”

My heart stuttered. Did he still look at me that way? After everything? “It’s... complicated.”

Octavia laughed, the sound bright in the small room. “Oh, I can imagine. Two handsome men, both devoted to you in their way. Most women would envy your complication.”

“Septimus isn’t devoted to me,” I protested. “He tried to kill Tarshi before we even left the city!”

“Did he now?” Octavia raised an eyebrow. “And why would he do that, I wonder?”

I looked away, unable to meet her knowing gaze. "Like I said. It's complicated."

“Well,” she said, patting my knee, “you’ll have plenty of time to tell me all about these complications. For now, though, we should discuss your plan. This idea of posing as a noble to enter the trials.”

I latched onto the change of subject gratefully. “Do you think it could work?”

To my surprise, Octavia nodded thoughtfully. “With the right preparation, yes. Before I was sold to the ludus, I was a lady’s maid to a minor noble’s wife. I know how they speak, how they carry themselves. I could teach you.”

Hope flared in my chest. “You could? Truly?”

“It won’t be easy,” she warned. “Nobles are bred into their mannerisms from birth. You’ll need to learn everything from how to hold a fork to how to address people of different ranks. And your story will need to be flawless — where you’re from, your family history, why you’ve never appeared at court before.”

“I can do it,” I insisted. “I’m a quick learner.”

Octavia smiled, a hint of mischief in her expression. “That you are. And we have the advantage of aiming for a provincial noble — they’re expected to be a bit rough around the edges. We’ll say you’re from one of the eastern provinces. They’re remote enough that few in the capital would know every minor noble family there.”

My mind raced with possibilities. “A fifth child, perhaps? Less likely to be well-known.”

“Perfect,” Octavia agreed. “Fifth daughter of a minor house, raised in seclusion due to your mother’s early death and your father’s grief. Now that you’ve come of age, you’ve travelled to the capital to make your mark and honour your family name by joining the Dragon Elites.”

“That’s... actually quite good,” I said, impressed.

She tossed her head with mock arrogance. “I didn’t spend three years listening to noble gossip for nothing. Now, we’ll need to secure appropriate clothing, documentation, perhaps a servant or two to accompany you.”

“I have the gold for it,” I said, thinking of Marcus’s generous gift. “And we have time — the trials aren’t for another month.”

“A month to turn a gladiator into a noblewoman,” Octavia mused. “It will be a challenge, but not impossible.”

A knock at the bedroom door interrupted our planning. “Everything alright in there?” Marcus’s voice called. “We’ve sorted out sleeping arrangements if you’d like to join us for a late meal.”

Octavia and I exchanged a glance, both of us suddenly aware of how long we’d been sequestered away. “Coming!” she called back, then lowered her voice to add, “We’ll continue this tomorrow. For now, try to relax. You’re safe here.”

Safe. The word felt foreign, almost unrecognizable after so many weeks of constant vigilance. Was I really safe, even here? The Empire still hunted escaped gladiators. The Emperor still lived, unpunished for his crimes against my family. But looking at Octavia’s warm smile, I allowed myself to believe it, if only for tonight.

We rejoined the men in the main room to find they’d set out a simple meal on the table — bread, cheese, dried meat, and a flask of watered wine. They’d arranged the sleeping area as well, with the couch designated for Marcus and bedrolls laid out for Tarshi and Septimus. I was relieved to see Tarshi had been given one, I had an idea that if it had been up to Septimus, Tarshi would have been sleeping in the hall on the hard floor.

“Not exactly the ludus dining hall,” Marcus said with a wry smile as we seated ourselves around the table.

“Thank the gods for that,” Septimus replied, tearing off a chunk of bread. “I don’t miss that slop they called food.”

“You ate it eagerly enough,” Tarshi remarked mildly, earning a glare from Septimus.

I tensed, expecting an argument, but to my surprise, Marcus laughed. “He’s not wrong, Septimus. You were always first in line on stew day.”

Septimus’s glare shifted to Marcus, but there was no real heat behind it. “Only because if you waited, the chunks of meat would all be gone.”

“‘Meat,’” Octavia said with exaggerated air quotes. “I’m still not convinced it wasn’t rat.”

“On good days, maybe,” I added, and suddenly we were all laughing — even Tarshi, whose rare smiles were usually reserved for private moments. The tension that had filled the room earlier dissipated somewhat, replaced by the simple camaraderie of shared hardship.

As we ate, the conversation flowed more easily. Marcus and Octavia wanted to hear about our journey to the Imperial City, while we were curious about their escape from the ludus during the attack.

“I didn’t think we’d make it,” Octavia admitted, refilling our cups with the watered wine. “The streets were chaos — rebels fighting imperial soldiers, buildings burning, people running in every direction.”

“Marcus got us through,” she continued, casting him a grateful look. “He knew which alleys to take, when to hide, when to run. We joined a group of refugees heading north and just... kept going.”

“Wasn’t as exciting as stealing a dragon,” Marcus said, his eyes finding mine across the table. “But it got us here.”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks at his steady gaze. “We did what we had to.”

“As did we all,” he replied softly.

An awkward silence fell until Septimus cleared his throat. “So, this plan of yours, Octavia. You really think you can turn Livia into a convincing noblewoman?”

Octavia straightened, clearly pleased to be asked. “With work, yes. She has the natural grace for it, and the right kind of beauty — unusual enough to be memorable, but not so exotic as to raise suspicions.”

“She’ll need more than beauty,” Tarshi said, his deep voice serious. “The nobles here are like a different species. They can smell an impostor.”

“That’s why we start now, with a full month to prepare,” Octavia countered. “And we focus on making her a provincial noble — they’re expected to be a bit rough around the edges. Less polished than court nobles.”

The conversation turned to the practicalities of our deception — what documentation we’d need to forge, what clothing would be appropriate, how I should speak and carry myself. To my surprise, Marcus and Septimus engaged enthusiastically with the planning, offering suggestions based on nobles they’d observed in the arena.

“You’ll need a family crest,” Septimus said, reaching for a scrap of paper and a stub of charcoal from a shelf. “Something distinctive but not too memorable.” He began to sketch, his artistic skill — something I’d forgotten about from our childhood — evident in the quick, sure strokes.

“And a family name,” Marcus added. “Something that sounds noble but isn’t well-known.”

“Cantius,” Octavia suggested. “It was the name of a minor noble house in the eastern provinces that died out a generation ago. Few would remember it now.”

“Livia Cantius,” I tried the name on my tongue. It felt strange, foreign, yet somehow right for this new deception. “Fifth daughter of…”

“Lord Cassius Cantius,” Octavia supplied. “And his wife, the late Lady Serena, who died shortly after your birth.”

I nodded, committing the names to memory. “And my reason for coming to the trials now, rather than earlier?”

“Your father kept you isolated out of grief,” Tavi suggested. “And perhaps fear of losing his last daughter to the dangers of the capital.”

“But he recently passed,” Tarshi added quietly. “Freeing you to pursue your own path.”

The simplicity and effectiveness of the story impressed me. “And my servants?”

“That would be us,” Septimus said, gesturing to himself and Tarshi. “Your loyal retainers who’ve accompanied you from your family estate.”

“And what about you and Octavia?” I asked Marcus. As my slaves, Tarshi and Septimus would live in the academy rooms with me, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to go another few weeks before seeing Marcus again now I had him back.

“We’ll remain here,” Marcus said. “Maintaining this safe house, gathering information, preparing for... after.”

After. The word hung in the air between us. After I infiltrated the academy. After I got close to the Emperor. After I took my revenge. What then?

“It could work,” I said finally, hope building in my chest despite the enormity of what we were planning. “With the gold, with all of us working together... it could actually work.”

“It will work,” Marcus said firmly, his confidence bolstering mine. “And whatever comes after... we’ll face it together.”

I looked around the table at these people who had, in different ways, become my family. Octavia with her practical wisdom and unwavering loyalty. Septimus, my childhood friend, complicated by his feelings for me but still standing by my side despite our differences. Tarshi, my unexpected lover, whose quiet strength had become my anchor. And Marcus, returned to me against all odds, still looking at me like I hung the moon and stars, as Octavia had said.

For the first time since escaping the ludus, I felt something dangerously close to hope. Not just for my revenge, but for what might come after. For the possibility that there might be an after worth living for.

“Now,” Octavia said, breaking the moment, “who’s going to take the first sponge bath? The communal washroom down the hall isn’t much, but there’s a fire for heating water till midnight.”

The mundane question after our grand plotting made me laugh. “What, no private bathing chambers for the future Lady Cantius?”

“Afraid not, my lady,” Octavia replied with a mock curtsy. “Though I daresay even communal bathing will be a step up from river baths while traveling.”

“True enough,” I agreed, suddenly aware of how grimy I felt after weeks on the road and in the dirty inns we’d been staying in, where washing facilities had not been ideal. “I volunteer.”

“I’ll show you where it is,” Octavia offered, rising from her seat. “And lend you some clean clothes for sleeping.”

As I followed her to the door, I caught Marcus watching me, something unreadable in his eyes. Our gazes held for a moment before I looked away, unsure of what to say, what to feel.

Having him back complicated everything. The feelings I’d tried to bury had resurged the moment I saw him in the tavern. Yet so much had changed. I had changed. My relationships with Septimus and Tarshi had evolved in ways Marcus couldn’t possibly understand yet. And I wasn’t sure I was ready to explain them.

Later, freshly bathed and dressed in Octavia’s borrowed nightclothes, I lay beside her in the narrow bed, listening to her soft breathing as she drifted to sleep. Through the thin wall, I could hear the occasional murmur from the men as they settled in for the night. The strange domesticity of it all felt both comforting and terrifying.

For so long, my only purpose had been survival, then escape, then vengeance. Now, with Marcus’s return and the sudden possibility that my plan might actually succeed, I found myself wondering what would come after. If I killed the Emperor and somehow survived, what then? What did I want beyond revenge?

The question followed me into uneasy dreams where I stood before the Emperor with a blade in my hand, only to find his face morphing into those of the men I cared for. I awoke before dawn, heart racing, the memory of the dream already fading but the unease lingering.

Octavia slept beside me, her face peaceful in the dim pre-dawn light. I envied her uncomplicated sleep. Envied the certainty she seemed to have that things would work out. That I would eventually abandon my quest for vengeance and choose life instead.

I wasn’t so sure. But for the first time since the dragon carried us away from the ludus, I allowed myself to imagine the possibility. To picture a life beyond revenge, with these people who had, against all odds, become my family.

It was a dangerous thought. Hope was a luxury I couldn’t afford, not when so much still stood between me and my goal. Not when failure meant death for not just me, but potentially everyone I cared about.

But as I lay in the quiet darkness, listening to the soft breathing of the people who had risked everything to follow me, to find me, to stand by me, I couldn’t quite banish it entirely.

Perhaps there could be an after worth living for, if only I could figure out what I truly wanted it to look like.