Page 20 of Realms of Swords and Storms (Empire of Vengeance #3)

I watched the dust motes dance in the spears of sunlight that streamed in from the high windows of the classroom as Professor Taminus lectured us on dragon anatomy.

Vivid murals depicting ancient aerial battles coloured the plaster walls of the classroom —imperial dragons soaring triumphant over barbarian forces, rendered in rich ochres, deep blues, and gold leaf that caught the afternoon light streaming through the high windows.

Around the perimeter, my fellow students and I sat cross-legged on embroidered cushions, backs against the painted walls, wax tablets balanced on our knees.

Some were diligently scratching notes with their styluses; others gazed at Taminus as he paced the mosaic floor at the centre, gesturing at a suspended dragon skeleton that rotated slowly above a brass mechanism.

My mind, however, kept drifting back to the stables, to Livia's lips on mine, her body pressed against me, the soft sounds she made when I touched her.

I'd replayed the moment a thousand times since yesterday—the way her resistance had melted, how perfectly we'd fit together, the look in her eyes when she'd finally pulled away.

"Lord Northreach," Professor Taminus's sharp voice cut through my daydream. "Perhaps you'd care to enlighten us about the relationship between wing musculature and diving capability?"

I straightened on my cushion, aware of several students glancing my way with barely concealed smirks.

"The pectoralis minor muscles control the upstroke of the wing, while the pectoralis major handles the downstroke.

In a dive, the balance between these determines how quickly a dragon can pull out of the descent. "

Professor Taminus's eyebrows rose slightly. "Correct. Though I'm surprised you heard the question, given your apparent fascination with the wall."

A few students snickered. I managed a polite smile. "Apologies, Professor. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't." He turned back to the anatomical diagram on the slate board. "Now, as Lord Northreach correctly stated..."

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to take notes as Taminus continued. I couldn't afford to be caught daydreaming like a lovesick boy.

But gods, that's exactly what I was.

When the lecture finally ended, I gathered my materials quickly, hoping to catch Livia before her next class.

I'd barely seen her since our encounter—just that brief, tense conversation in the corridor where she'd insisted nothing could happen between us.

But the way she'd looked at me told a different story than her words.

I spotted her in the crowded hallway, her dark hair swept back in a simple braid, her shoulders straight and proud as always.

Something about the way she carried herself set her apart from the other students—a quiet dignity that hinted at a life lived beyond the sheltered walls of noble houses.

I quickened my pace to catch up with her.

"Livia," I said, falling into step beside her.

She glanced at me, surprise flickering across her features before she schooled her expression. "Lord Northreach."

"Jalend," I corrected. "After yesterday, I think we're well past formalities."

A flush rose to her cheeks. "We shouldn't discuss that here."

I looked around at the throng of students moving between classes. "You're right. Can we talk somewhere private?"

She hesitated, adjusting the books in her arms. "I have combat training in ten minutes."

"After, then? Please, Livia." I knew I sounded too eager, too insistent, but I couldn't help myself. "Just a few minutes."

She bit her lower lip, and the gesture sent a surge of heat through me as I remembered the taste of that lip between my own. "I don't think that's wise," she said finally.

"Why not?" I moved closer, lowering my voice. "Because you're afraid of what might happen if we're alone again?"

Her eyes flashed with something—anger, desire, I couldn't tell which. "Because there's no point. As I told you yesterday, we come from different worlds."

"I don't care about that."

"You should." Her voice was sharp. "Your father would care. The Imperial Council would care."

"My father isn't here," I said. "Neither is the Council. It's just you and me, Livia."

She looked up at me, her expression softening slightly. "It's never just you and me, Jalend. Your position, your responsibilities—they're always with you."

"So are yours," I countered. "You think I don't see the weight you carry? Whatever it is, whatever secrets you're keeping—"

"You don't know anything about me," she interrupted, but there was no heat in her words, only a weary resignation.

"I know enough." I stepped closer, close enough to catch the scent of her—soap and leather and something wild, like the wind through mountain pines. "I know you feel this too. I know yesterday wasn't a mistake, no matter what you say."

She didn't back away. "Feeling something doesn't make it right or possible."

"Why are you so determined to deny yourself happiness?" I asked softly.

A flash of genuine surprise crossed her face. "Happiness? Is that what you think this is about?"

"Isn't it? The way I see it, we're both surrounded by duty and obligation. Wouldn't it be nice to have something that's just for us? Something real?"

She stared at me for a long moment, and I could almost see the conflict in her eyes—desire warring with caution, longing with pragmatism. "You make it sound so simple."

"Maybe it could be." I took a chance, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. She didn't pull away. "We don't have to plan the rest of our lives, Livia. We could just... see where this goes. Enjoy what's between us now."

"And when it ends?" she asked quietly. "When reality reasserts itself?"

"Then at least we'll have had something true. Something that was ours."

Her expression softened further, vulnerability showing through the cracks in her carefully maintained facade. For a moment, I thought she might agree. Then she looked away, breaking the spell. "I can't afford distractions right now."

"Is that what I am? A distraction?"

A hint of a smile touched her lips. "A very persistent one."

I couldn't help but smile in return. "I'll take that as a compliment."

The warning bell rang, signalling five minutes until the next class period. Livia glanced toward the training yards. "I need to go."

"Meet me after classes," I said quickly. "Just to talk. That's all."

She hesitated, and I could see her weighing the risks, calculating the potential cost. "Just to talk," she repeated, as if confirming the terms.

"Unless you decide otherwise," I added with a slight smile.

That earned me a roll of her eyes, but there was no real annoyance in it. "You're incorrigible."

"Another compliment. I'm on a roll today."

She shook her head, but I could see the smile she was trying to suppress. "Fine. After combat training. I'll meet you by the eastern courtyard."

"I'll be there."

She turned to go, but on impulse, I reached for her hand, pulling her back toward me. Before she could protest, I drew her around the corner into a small alcove where the corridor branched, hidden from the main hallway.

"Jalend, what are you—"

I silenced her with a kiss, my lips finding hers with the certainty of a man who'd dreamed of nothing else for a day and a night.

For a heartbeat, she stood frozen, then her books clattered to the floor as her arms came around my neck, her body pressing against mine with a hunger that matched my own.

Gods, she tasted even better than I remembered—sweet and fierce and intoxicating.

I backed her against the wall, one hand tangling in her hair, the other at her waist, holding her to me as if she might vanish if I loosened my grip.

Her hands weren't idle either, moving from my neck to my chest, fingers digging into the fabric of my uniform.

When I deepened the kiss, she made a small sound in the back of her throat that nearly undid me.

I wanted to lift her against the wall, to feel her legs wrap around my waist, to lose myself in her completely.

But even through the haze of desire, I knew we were in a public hallway, separated from discovery by nothing more than a turn in the corridor.

With tremendous effort, I broke the kiss, resting my forehead against hers as we both caught our breath. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, a flush spread across her cheeks.

"So much for 'just to talk,'" she murmured, her voice husky.

I laughed softly. "I never claimed to have much willpower where you're concerned."

She opened her eyes, and the heat in them nearly had me kissing her again. "I really do have to go to training."

"I know." I reluctantly stepped back, bending to gather her fallen books. "After classes, then?"

She nodded, taking the books from my hands. Our fingers brushed, and even that simple contact sent a shiver through me. "After classes," she agreed.

I watched her straighten her uniform, adjust her hair, and compose herself back into the disciplined student. It was fascinating, like watching a mask slide into place—but now I'd seen beneath it, I would never be fooled again.

"Lord Northreach?" A voice called from the main corridor. "Lord Northreach, are you there?"

I stepped back into the hallway to find a young page in imperial livery looking around anxiously. "I'm here."

The boy bowed, relief evident on his face. "Sir, you have a visitor waiting in your quarters."

I frowned. Other than my father, and Legate Santius, no one knew I was at the academy. "Tell them I'll be there directly."

The page bowed again and hurried off to deliver my message. I turned back to find Livia watching me, her expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I have to go."

She nodded, her earlier vulnerability now completely hidden behind a wall of composure. "Of course. Your duties call."