Page 21 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons (Empire of Vengeance #4)
T he morning sun felt good on my healing skin as I moved through the training forms with Septimus, though I could feel the pull of not-quite-healed muscle with every extension.
Three weeks since the attack, and while I was up and moving again, I was nowhere near full strength.
The frustration gnawed at me constantly—every day I spent here recovering was another day Kalen remained free, another day the war raged on, another day my people suffered.
But watching Septimus now, seeing how naturally he moved among the Talfen children who had gathered to watch us train, some of that frustration eased into something warmer.
A little girl with dark braids had attached herself to his leg, chattering away in broken Common about the wooden sword he'd carved for her brother.
Septimus listened with genuine interest, his responses patient and kind, his earlier prejudices seemingly completely abandoned.
It still amazed me, this transformation.
The man who had once called my people demons now sat cross-legged in the dirt, showing a group of children how to properly grip a practice sword, his face lit with the same gentle enthusiasm I'd seen him show the younger gladiators back in the ludus.
When one of the boys—barely six years old—managed to execute a passable thrust, Septimus's grin was radiant.
"Well done, Tael," he said in carefully pronounced Talfen, and the boy beamed with pride.
I had to look away, my throat tight with emotion I couldn't quite name. Guilt, maybe. Gratitude. Something deeper that I wasn't ready to examine too closely.
"Tarshi?" Septimus appeared at my elbow, concern creasing his features. "You're pushing too hard again. Your arm—"
"Is fine," I said automatically, though we both knew it wasn't entirely true. The broken bone had healed cleanly thanks to Mira's skill, but it was tender, still protesting when I demanded too much of it.
Septimus gave me a look that said he wasn't buying my deflection. "The training ground will still be here tomorrow. And the day after that."
I wanted to snap at him, to remind him that every day of delay meant more death, more suffering. But the children were still watching us, still listening, and I wouldn't let my frustration taint their innocence. Instead, I set down my practice sword and wiped the sweat from my forehead.
"Walk with me," I said quietly. "There's something I need to show you."
Curiosity flickered in his dark eyes, but he nodded, saying goodbye to the children in his careful Talfen before following me away from the village.
I led him along one of the hunting paths that wound through the forest, my steps sure despite the unfamiliar terrain.
My enhanced senses—sharper now since I'd learned to embrace what I was—guided me toward what I needed: a clearing large enough, secluded enough, for what I had to do.
The silence stretched between us as we walked, comfortable but weighted with unspoken things.
Septimus seemed content to follow, trusting me to lead him wherever we were going, and that trust sent another pang through my chest. After everything—after the lies, the secrets, the revelation of what my people truly were—he still trusted me. I wasn't sure I deserved it.
The clearing I'd sensed opened before us, a perfect circle of grass surrounded by towering pines. Sunlight dappled the ground through the canopy, and a small stream bubbled along one edge, the sound soothing in the wilderness quiet. I stopped in the centre, suddenly unsure how to begin.
"Tarshi." Septimus moved to stand beside me, his voice gentle. "What's this about?"
I took a breath, tasting pine and earth and the faint scent of mountain flowers on the air.
"There's something I need to do before I can fully heal.
Before I can go back and end this war." I turned to face him, studying his familiar features—the strong jaw, the intelligent eyes, the small scar above his left eyebrow from a training accident years ago.
"But first, I need to tell you something.
About what I am. About what the Empire has been hiding from its people. "
His expression grew wary, though he tried to hide it. "Tarshi—"
"You've seen it already," I said quietly. "In that alley, when I killed Varin. You saw me change into something else."
The wariness deepened, his shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly. "I saw you fight like nothing human should be able to fight. I saw you move faster than should be possible, hit harder than—" He stopped, shaking his head. "But that doesn't mean—"
"It means exactly what you think it means." I kept my voice steady, matter-of-fact. "The Empire has spent decades telling its people that the Talfen are demons, monsters to be feared and destroyed. They've hidden the real truth of why the Emperor fears us, why he's so determined to wipe us out."
"And what is that truth?" The question came out barely above a whisper.
I studied his face, looking for any sign that this would be too much, that I was about to destroy whatever we'd built between us.
But beneath the wariness, I saw something else—curiosity, maybe even anticipation.
Septimus had always been driven by the need to understand, to learn.
Even now, faced with something that challenged everything he'd been taught, part of him wanted to know.
"Do you trust me?" I asked.
He didn't hesitate. "Yes."
"Even knowing what you've seen? Even suspecting what I might be?"
"Yes." His voice was stronger now, more certain. "I trust you, Tarshi. Whatever you are, whoever you are—I trust you."
The simple honesty of it nearly undid me. I reached out, my fingers brushing his cheek in a gesture I hoped conveyed everything I couldn't find words for. "I would never hurt you," I said. "You have to know that. Whatever I show you, whatever you see—I would never hurt you."
"I know." He leaned into my touch slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. "Show me."
I stepped back, my hands going to the ties of my tunic. Septimus raised an eyebrow as I began to undress, a familiar teasing glint entering his eyes.
"Really, Tarshi? I hate to break the tension, but I’ve seen that a few times.”
"Just wait," I said, unable to suppress a smile at his irreverence even now. Trust Septimus to make jokes in the face of the impossible. I folded my clothes carefully and set them aside, standing naked in the dappled sunlight. "Step back. Give me room."
He did as I asked, though confusion was written clearly across his features.
I closed my eyes, reaching for that place inside myself that had awakened the night I'd learned what I truly was.
It had been weeks since I'd allowed myself this change—too risky in the village, too many people around who might not understand.
But I'd missed it, missed the freedom and power and rightness of my other form.
The change came easier now than it had that first time.
Magic flowed through my bones, reshaping them, stretching them, transforming me into something magnificent and terrible and utterly myself.
My skin gave way to midnight-blue scales that gleamed like jewels in the sunlight.
My human body expanded, elongated, wings erupting from my back in a rush of membrane and bone.
Power coursed through me as I settled into my true shape, four legs instead of two, a long sinuous tail, a neck that could stretch toward the sky.
I opened eyes that now saw the world in a completely different spectrum and looked down at Septimus.
He stood frozen, his mouth slightly open, his face pale beneath his tan. For a long moment, neither of us moved. Then I stretched my wings, testing the feel of them after weeks of confinement, and launched myself into the air.
Flying. Gods, how I'd missed flying. Even with my injuries not fully healed, even with the ache in muscles that had been too long earthbound, the sensation of wind beneath my wings was pure ecstasy.
I soared above the treetops, feeling truly free for the first time since the attack.
This was what I was meant for—the sky, the wind, the endless blue above.
But it was the man on the ground below who called me back.
I circled the clearing once more, then settled back to earth as gently as I could manage.
The change back to human form was always slightly disorienting, my perspective shifting as I shrank back to merely mortal proportions.
When it was complete, I stood before Septimus on two legs again, naked and slightly breathless but unmistakably myself.
He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sat down heavily on a fallen log, as if his legs would no longer support him.
"A dragon," he said finally, his voice faint. "You're a dragon."
"Yes." I stayed where I was, giving him space to process. "I'm a dragon shifter. That's what the Talfen really are—or some of us, anyway. Not all of us can shift, but those who can..." I gestured helplessly. "This is why the Emperor fears us. This is why he's so desperate to destroy us completely."
"All this time," Septimus murmured, still staring at me. "In the ludus, in bed, fighting beside me—you were always..."
"I only learned how to shift recently," I said quickly. "I always knew I was different, stronger and faster than I should be, but I didn't know why until a few months ago. Most Talfen don't discover their dragon nature until their twenties, if at all."
"But you knew," he said, and there was no accusation in it, just a kind of wondering sadness. "You knew what you were and you didn't tell me."
"I was afraid." The admission came out rougher than I'd intended. "Afraid you'd see me as the monster the Empire taught you I was. Afraid you'd—"
"Leave. I understand. I haven’t exactly been the most trustworthy of partners. I don’t blame you for not telling me.”
"You're taking this remarkably well."