Page 8 of City of Secrets and Shadows (Empire of Vengeance #2)

8

I was beginning to love mornings in the capital. The city awakened with a vibrant energy that the provinces never matched — traders setting up their stalls, food vendors calling out their specialties, the mingling scents of fresh bread and exotic spices carried on the morning breeze. Street callers had already begun their work, their practiced voices carrying above the general din: “Trials of the Dragon Elite! Witness noble blood and ancient beasts! Gates open at midday!” The announcement sent a ripple of excitement through the gathering crowds, people exchanging eager comments about which noble houses would present candidates this year.

The grand imperial boulevards gradually gave way to modest thoroughfares, the ornate architecture and marble facades transforming into the practical stone buildings of craftsmen and merchants. Eventually even these surrendered to dirt paths as we approached the southern gate, but I found myself glancing back at the awakening city with reluctance. Despite the dangers we faced, there was something about this place — the diversity of faces, the countless interactions, the sense of possibility — that felt almost like freedom. I even spotted a couple of half-breeds like myself, weaving their way through the increasingly crowded boulevards.

We passed through the gates with no issues, heading down the main route past farmers and merchants filing into the city to bring their wares to sell. Beyond the walls, the landscape opened into rolling hills dotted with olive groves and small farms. We followed a path that wound away from the main road, climbing steadily until we reached the abandoned shepherd’s hut where Livia had convinced her dragon to wait for us. I felt a little nervous as we approached, hoping the creature would still be there. Livia said she thought it understood her when she spoke to it, but even she wasn’t sure, and our plan would be for nothing with the beast.

“Remember,” Septimus instructed Livia for what must have been the tenth time, “dragon riders from noble houses maintain a specific posture. Back straight, chin level—”

“I know,” Livia cut him off, her voice tight with nervous energy. “We’ve practiced. I won’t embarrass you, Septimus.”

I kept silent, watching the interplay between them. Septimus had grown increasingly protective — or possessive — as the day of the trials approached. His corrections had become more frequent, his criticisms sharper. He was worried about her, I realised. As were we all.

The shepherd’s hut came into view, its stone walls weathered and partially collapsed on one side. I held my breath, scanning the area for any sign of the dragon. Nothing moved except tall grasses bending in the morning breeze.

“Where is it?” Septimus hissed, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword.

Livia stepped forward, her face a mask of concentration. “He’s here. I can feel him.”

She closed her eyes, head tilting as though listening to a distant sound. When she opened them again, she smiled.

“He’s coming.”

I felt the great draft of his wings, before his shadow passed over my head, and watched in awe as the beast descended. Even after seeing him several times, I still felt my breath catch. The dragon’s scales shimmered in the morning light-deep crimson that was nearly black, except where the sun highlighted the scales. He landed with surprising grace, powerful muscles rippling beneath that armoured hide as he folded his wings.

Septimus cursed under his breath, taking an involuntary step back. “Gods’ blood, I’ll never get used to that.”

Livia ran forward, her face lighting up, and I fought to quell the instinctive fear that never quite faded no matter how many times I’d watched her with the creature. He lowered his head to Livia’s level. She reached up without hesitation, placing her hand on the ridged slope of his snout. The dragon’s eyes — intelligent, ancient eyes — closed briefly at her touch.

I hung back with Septimus, noting the scatter of bones around the clearing. Cattle bones mostly, picked clean and sun-bleached. The dragon had fed well during his isolation.

“The local farmers will be missing their stock,” I muttered.

“Not much we can do about that,” said Septimus, his eyes fixed on Livia. “The academy will feed him from today if she makes it through.”

“She’ll make it,” I said as I watched as Livia ran her hands over the dragon’s head, her movements confident and practiced. No observer would question her familiarity with dragon-handling. She spoke softly to the beast, words I couldn’t hear but which made the dragon rumble with what sounded almost like contentment.

Despite my unease around the beast, I felt an inexplicable connection to the creature — nothing like Livia’s bond, but a strange kinship. Perhaps it was our shared status as beings that didn’t quite belong in this world of humans. Neither of us had chosen our nature, yet both were judged for it.

“You should give him a name,” I said, stepping forward and reaching out slowly to run my hand along the scales of its long neck. The dragon’s scales felt warm beneath my fingertips, almost vibrating with the creature’s deep breaths.

Livia glanced at me, surprise flickering across her face. “A name? I never thought of that.”

“All noble riders name their dragons,” Septimus said. “It’s tradition.”

“Oh, yes, I suppose, I just…” she looked back at him. “I… this will sound strange, but I felt like he already had a name. Giving him another one felt wrong.”

The dragon’s head swivelled toward me, those ancient eyes studying me with unnerving intensity. I forced myself to hold its gaze, though every instinct screamed to look away. Heat radiated from its body, carrying the scent of smoke and iron.

“We need to call him something,” I argued. “He or it just seems disrespectful to me.”

She nodded slowly. “Something fitting,” she said.

“What about Sirrax?” Septimus suggested. “I remember Tarus telling us a story about some Imperial Dragon Elite hero from the Great Wars, and I’m sure the dragon’s name was Sirrax. It means ‘Ravenous Thunder.’”

“Sirrax,” she murmured. The dragon’s chest rumbled, and she smiled.

“Sirrax,” she repeated, more confidently this time. The dragon lowered his massive head, exhaling a warm breath that stirred her hair. “I think he approves.”

“We should go,” Septimus announced. “We need to arrive at the academy well before Livia makes her appearance.”

Livia turned to us, her hand still resting on the dragon’s scales, as if she couldn’t bear not to be touching him. I understood that feeling all too well. The strange bond Livia and I seemed to share had that effect on me. The few stolen hours we’d managed to be together on our journey here had stopped when we’d started sharing rooms with Marcus and Octavia. It would be impossible to conceal our involvement around all three of the others, and a deep ache had grown in my chest the longer I went without touching her. If she made it through the trials, she’d be given a suite at the academy, but I had no idea if Septimus would leave her side long enough. I already needed her badly. We’d have to find a way. I swallowed hard, forcing my attention back to the matter at hand.

“How long will it take to reach the academy?” Livia asked.

“Three hours on foot,” Septimus replied, checking the position of the sun. “Which means we’ll get there just before you arrive if we leave now.”

I watched her nod, jaw set with determination despite the fear I knew churned beneath her composed exterior. The trials were no mere formality — they were designed to weed out the weak. Even legitimate noble candidates died each year.

“Remember,” I said quietly, stepping closer to her while Septimus checked his maps, “when you approach, keep high until the last moment. Make an entrance they won’t forget.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Hard to be forgotten when you’re riding a dragon the size of a small house.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I reached for her hand, my fingers brushing hers briefly before I caught Septimus’s watchful gaze and pulled away. “You belong there as much as any of them. More, perhaps.”

Sirrax rumbled low in his chest, as if in agreement and Livia smiled, her eyes flicking to mine for just a heartbeat. Something passed between us — a current of understanding and of desire. I felt my skin warm at the unspoken message and reached out to run my fingers down her bare arm. She shivered at my touch, and I quickly pulled away. Septimus didn’t notice, he was looking back towards the city.

“Remember, you’ll approach from the east. The sun will be above you, making your entrance more dramatic.”

“Yes, Septimus,” she sighed, the exasperation clear in her voice. “Just as we’ve spoken about a hundred times.”

“Fine. Good luck. Don’t do anything stupid,” he said, and her eyes flashed, but he was already walking away. I gave her one last encouraging smile before I followed him, leaving her with Sirrax.

As we walked back toward the city, the morning sun crested the eastern hills, casting long shadows before us.

The gates were fully open now, the morning traffic flowing steadily. Farmers’ carts laden with produce, merchants with their wares, labourers seeking daily work — all streamed into the imperial capital. We blended with the crowd, passing through without incident.

Once inside, Septimus abruptly stopped at a crossroads where the path divided — one route leading toward the academy, another toward the market district.

“I’ll meet you at the academy,” he said, already turning away.

I caught his arm. “Where are you going? We’re supposed to arrive together as Livia’s household staff.”

He looked pointedly at my hand until I released him. “Plans change. I have business to attend to first.”

“What business?”

His lip curled with disgust. “Do I report to you now? Has the filthy half-breed become the master?”

The slur sparked immediate anger. “Watch your tongue.”

“Or what?” he sneered, lowering his voice but making no effort to hide his contempt. “You’ll show your true nature? Right here in the street? Prove everything the Empire says about your kind?”

I forced myself to remain calm. “We’re supposed to be working together.”

“Working together,” he repeated with a bitter laugh. “I work with Livia. I tolerate you because she insists on keeping you around like some exotic pet.”

“Months fighting in the arena together—”

“Months watching you,” he cut me off. “Waiting for the moment your demon blood shows itself.”

My hands clenched involuntarily. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough,” Septimus hissed. “I’ve seen what the Talfen do to border villages. They don’t leave survivors. I saw what they did in Veredus. They’re animals — which makes you what? Half an animal?”

“Better half an animal than whatever you are,” I growled. His breath quickened as I leaned in towards him. “At least I don’t pretend to be Livia’s friend while watching her like a vulture.”

His face flushed with rage. “Don’t you dare question my loyalty to her. I’ve protected her since we were children. The whole time in the area, watching her back.”

“Oh I bet you watched her,” I said through gritted teeth. “Watching every move she made, lusting after her but never having the guts to just tell her.”

His face turned a shade I’d never seen before, somewhere between fury and mortification. In an instant, his hand was at my throat, shoving me against the stone wall of a nearby building.

“You’re nothing,” he seethed, his voice barely audible over the bustle of the morning crowd. “A convenient weapon, a curiosity she’ll tire of once she takes her rightful place. You think I don’t see the way you look at her? See the way you want her?”

I grabbed his wrist, tempted to snap it. My blood ran hot — the Talfen side of me stirring, demanding action, violence, dominance. I fought it down, knowing a street brawl would only draw attention we couldn’t afford.

“Release me,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Now.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said with vicious satisfaction, but made no move to step back, our faces inches apart. “You have an agenda. Your kind always does. But you won’t touch her. I’ll be watching. One wrong move toward Livia—”

“You’ll what?” I challenged.

“I killed Talfen in the arena before you arrived. I wouldn’t lose sleep over adding more demon blood to my hands. Now, this discussion is finished.” He finally released me and stepped back, his breathing uneven as he straightened his clothing with more attention than necessary. Something unspoken lingered in the air between us, dangerous and electric.

He turned and stalked away, disappearing into the crowd before I could respond. I watched him go, rubbing my throat where his fingers had pressed, my blood still hot with anger, my body fizzing with adrenaline.

The man was right about one thing — I did want Livia. More than he could possibly understand. But what burned between us wasn’t the simple lust he imagined, and I wasn’t about to let him get in the way of it. I wanted to go after him. To drag him into some quiet alley and beat submission into him. To slam his body against the wall, to wrap my hands around his throat and watch him beg me for my mercy, to feel him submit to me…

I inhaled sharply, startled by the intensity of my thoughts. The violence I expected, but there was something else there — something I hadn’t anticipated. Something I didn’t want to examine too closely.

The image of Septimus pinned against the wall lingered, transforming into something that wasn’t entirely about dominance or rage. I took several deep breaths, willing my blood to cool.

It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Septimus was in love with Livia. Not that I could blame him — she inspired devotion in most who knew her. But that made three of us now caught in her orbit: Marcus, Septimus, and myself. The thought made me laugh bitterly as I started walking again. As if she would ever choose me when she had options like Marcus or Septimus. Yet I hoped she would choose Marcus if she chose anyone. For all his arrogance, Marcus was direct and honest. Septimus was something else — calculating and controlling. He was toxic.

With a final glance in the direction he’d disappeared, I turned toward the academy. The crowds thickened as I moved through the market district, the noise and press of bodies a welcome distraction from my troubled thoughts. Vendors hawked their wares, the scents of spiced meat and sweet pastries mingling in the air. I purchased a small loaf of bread, tearing into it as I walked. Food always helped quiet the restless energy that sometimes overwhelmed me.

The city streets grew more crowded as morning advanced, forcing me to be more aware of my surroundings. I was accustomed to the reactions my appearance provoked — the sideways glances, the subtle steering of children away from my path, the whispered comments.

What surprised me was what didn’t happen. No one shouted slurs. No one demanded I leave their sight. No shopkeeper refused me passage before their establishment. There was wariness, yes, and that familiar distrust, but not the open hostility I’d grown accustomed to in the provinces.

A woman pulled her young son closer as I passed, but she nodded politely rather than spitting at my feet. A merchant watched me carefully but did not immediately cover his wares as if I might steal them. It was... strange.

Then, at a crowded intersection, I saw him — another half-breed. He was older, his hair as white as my own, styled into tight braids along his skull that loosened about his shoulders, but the mixed heritage was unmistakable in his features. He wore the attire of a skilled craftsman, not a slave or servant, and moved with the confidence of someone who belonged.

Our eyes met across the busy street. He nodded to me — a simple acknowledgment between kindred spirits. I was too surprised to respond before the crowd separated us again.

The encounter left me unsettled. I’d never considered that life might be different for half-breeds in the capital. The provinces treated us as barely above animals, but here... here it seemed possible to exist without constant degradation. It wasn’t acceptance, but it was something close to tolerance.

I made my way through the winding streets, following the route we’d memorized. The deeper I ventured into the noble district, the more ornate the buildings became — white marble colonnades, gilded domes catching sunlight, intricate mosaics depicting ancient battles and mythical beasts. Guards in polished armour stood at attention outside various estates, their faces impassive beneath plumed helmets.

The Dragon Elite Academy rose above it all, perched on the highest hill in the capital. Its spires reached toward the heavens, and massive statues of dragons flanked the main gates. Even from a distance, I could see the grounds bustling with activity — servants rushing about, nobles arriving in elaborately decorated carriages, and above it all, dragons circling lazily in the clear sky. Behind it all rose an arena that dwarfed any I had seen before. Stone seating rose in tiers that could accommodate thousands, all centred on a fighting ground big enough for multiple dragons to manoeuvre.

People streamed toward the academy from all directions — nobles in fine clothing, citizens in their best attire, vendors selling refreshments and trinkets. The trials of the Dragon Elite were clearly a spectacle for the masses as well as a serious evaluation.

I joined the crowd heading for the public entrance to the arena, paying the small fee required of common citizens. My coin bought me standing room in the upper tiers, far from the action but with a view of the entire grounds. The privileged classes occupied the lower seats, their colourful clothing creating a tapestry of wealth and status.

From my position, I scanned the crowd for Septimus but couldn’t locate him among the thousands of spectators. He had probably secured a better position through his connections — somewhere appropriate for a high-ranking servant of a noble house.

The arena floor was already occupied. Young nobles had assembled in their finery, arranged in what appeared to be house groupings. Imperial troops stood to attention around the perimeter, while older men and women in formal academic regalia — the imperial legates who ran the institution — observed from a raised platform.

My attention was drawn to three dragons already present on the field—one emerald green, one blue-grey, and one the colour of burnished bronze. All were impressive beasts, but I noted with satisfaction that each was noticeably smaller than Sirrax. Their riders stood nearby, clearly proud of their mounts and the advantage they represented.

A fanfare of trumpets silenced the crowd. All eyes turned to an elaborate box draped with imperial purple and gold. A collective intake of breath was followed by thunderous cheering as the Emperor himself entered, accompanied by his personal guard.

From my distant position, I could make out little more than a figure in imperial regalia — a man of average height with dark hair, his face too far away to discern features. He acknowledged the crowd with a practiced wave before taking his seat. Three of the academy legates immediately approached the imperial box, bowing deeply before engaging in what appeared to be formal conversation.

Suddenly, a shadow passed overhead, momentarily dimming the bright morning. A murmur spread through the crowd like a wave, growing louder as all eyes turned skyward.

Sirrax’s massive form circled above, wings extended, sunlight gleaming off his ebony scales. He was magnificent — power and grace combined in a creature of legend. And atop him, tiny but confident, sat Livia.

She guided Sirrax in a descending spiral, allowing everyone to appreciate the dragon’s size and beauty. As they neared the ground, Sirrax’s wings created gusts that stirred dust and fluttered banners. He landed with surprising delicacy at the centre of the arena, his claws touching down with precision that spoke of both his intelligence and Livia’s skill.

The crowd erupted in cheers and exclamations. Even from my distant position, I could see the other noble candidates’ reactions — a mixture of awe, envy, and resentment. The three existing dragon riders seemed particularly displeased, their mounts suddenly diminished by comparison.

Livia dismounted with practiced ease, her movements fluid and confident. She looked every inch the noble dragon rider, her back straight, her chin level, exactly as Septimus had instructed. Yet I saw what others couldn’t — the subtle tells that revealed the gladiator beneath the noble facade. The way her eyes constantly assessed her surroundings. The balanced stance that allowed for immediate movement in any direction. The measured distance she kept from potential threats.

Pride swelled in my chest as I watched her. This girl who had fought her way up from nothing, who had survived the arena through sheer will and skill, now stood among the elite of the empire. She had crossed boundaries that should have been impossible.

With that pride came fear — a cold knot in my stomach that tightened as I considered all that could go wrong. We were playing a dangerous game, infiltrating the very heart of imperial power with false identities and hidden purposes. If discovered, death would be the kindest outcome we could hope for.

What would I do if I lost her to this mad plan? The thought was like a physical pain. Livia had been the constant in my life since she was a child in the gladiator school — first as someone to protect, then as a fellow fighter, eventually as the closest thing to family I had left. She was my anchor in a world that had never wanted me.

I watched as officials approached her, as she formally presented herself, as Sirrax was led away to the dragon stables by handlers who looked both impressed and intimidated. She performed her role perfectly, every gesture and response exactly as we had rehearsed.

Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that we had crossed a threshold from which there was no return. Each step from here would take her further from the life we had known and deeper into a world where I couldn’t follow.

The sun climbed higher, beating down on the arena as the opening ceremonies continued. Speeches were made, traditions observed, histories recited. Through it all, Livia stood with the other candidates, a figure in blue amid a sea of noble colours.

From my vantage point, she appeared small and isolated — one woman against the empire. But I knew better than most the strength that lived within that deceptively slight frame. Livia had survived everything the world had thrown at her. She would survive this too.

She had to. Because I truly didn’t know what I would do if she didn’t.