Page 25 of Realms of Swords and Storms (Empire of Vengeance #3)

A server brought a platter of bread, sharp cheese, and glistening olives, along with a carafe of chilled white wine. Marcus filled our cups, his movements sure and steady. I took a long drink, but the cool liquid did little to douse the anger simmering in my gut.

“They didn’t have to do that,” I said, my voice low and tight. “He wasn’t hurting anyone.”

“No,” Marcus agreed. He reached across the small wooden table, his hand covering mine. His palm was warm and calloused, a familiar weight that grounded me. “But you charging in there wouldn’t have helped him, Liv. It would have only gotten you thrown in a cell, or worse.”

“I just hate it,” I whispered, staring at our joined hands. “Feeling so powerless.”

“I know.” His thumb stroked the back of my hand, a slow, soothing rhythm that unknotted something inside me. “But we aren’t powerless. We’re just choosing our battles. And today is a truce. For us.”

His gaze was so direct, so full of a quiet, unwavering affection that it stole my breath. He saw the fighter in me, the rage, but he also saw the woman who just needed a day of peace.

I turned my hand over, lacing my fingers through his. “Okay,” I said, my voice thick. “A truce.”

He smiled, a genuine warmth that crinkled the corners of his eyes, and the last of the tension finally bled away.

When the server returned with two plates of grilled fish, I realized I was starving.

The world outside this courtyard, with its cruelty and its coming war, could wait. For now, there was only this. Only him.

The warm afternoon sun dappled through the olive tree branches, casting shifting patterns across our table.

The wine was excellent - crisp and cool against my tongue, a welcome contrast to the lingering heat of the day.

Across from me, Marcus looked more relaxed than I'd seen him in months, the perpetual tension in his shoulders temporarily eased.

"How's the fish?" he asked, his voice warm with simple pleasure.

I smiled, savouring another bite of the delicate, herb-infused flesh. "Perfect. I'd forgotten what real food tastes like. The Academy meals are..." I searched for a diplomatic word.

"Terrible?" Marcus supplied with a grin.

"Functional," I corrected, though I couldn't help returning his smile. "Designed to fuel the body without troubling the palate."

He laughed, the sound rich and genuine, and my heart lightened at hearing it. These moments of unguarded joy were rare treasures between us. Our lives had contained so little laughter since the Empire had destroyed our village.

As we ate, sharing the platter of olives and breaking off pieces of crusty bread, I felt the weight of secrets pressing against my chest. Here in this peaceful courtyard, with Marcus looking at me with such open affection, the walls I'd built to compartmentalize my complicated life felt suddenly flimsy and dishonest.

"Marcus," I said finally, setting down my wine cup. "I need to tell you something."

He nodded, his expression growing more serious as he read the change in my tone. "I'm listening."

I took a deep breath, unsure where to begin. "Things at the Academy have been... complicated." I traced the rim of my cup with my fingertip, gathering courage. "There's a nobleman there, Jalend Northreach. He's been... interested in me."

Marcus's expression remained carefully neutral, though I noticed his fingers tighten slightly around his cup. "Interested?"

"We kissed," I admitted, heat rising to my cheeks. "Yesterday, in the stables. It went further than that, almost..." I looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "I stopped it before—but only just."

I risked a glance at him, expecting anger or hurt, but his face showed only thoughtful concern.

"Do you have feelings for him?" he asked quietly.

The directness of the question caught me off guard.

"I—I don't know. Maybe. He's different from the other nobles.

Thoughtful. Kind in ways I didn't expect.

" I reached across the table, desperately needing to touch him, to maintain our connection.

"But it doesn't change how I feel about you, Marcus. You know that, don't you?"

He caught my hand, his fingers interlacing with mine. "I know." His thumb stroked over my knuckles in a gentle caress. "We agreed from the beginning that your heart wasn't exclusively mine to claim, Liv. I've always understood that."

Relief washed through me, though a knot of tension remained. "There's more."

His eyebrows rose slightly. "More than a noble suitor? You've been busy."

I couldn't help a small laugh at his dry tone. "It's Tarshi."

Now his expression did change, surprise flickering across his features. "Tarshi? You mean... you and Tarshi?"

I nodded, watching him carefully. "For some time now. Since before we left the ludus, actually." I hesitated, then added, "I thought you might have suspected."

Marcus released my hand, leaning back in his chair. He ran a hand through his hair, processing this revelation. "I knew you cared for him, but I didn't realize it had become... physical."

"Are you angry?" I asked, suddenly afraid I'd miscalculated badly.

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed somewhere over my shoulder. Then he sighed, his eyes returning to mine. "No. Not angry. Surprised, certainly." A hint of a wry smile touched his lips. "Though perhaps I shouldn't be."

"You're not... disgusted?" I pressed, needing to know. "He's Talfen. Half-Talfen, at least."

Marcus's expression softened. "Is that what worries you? That I'd judge you for being with someone of Talfen blood?"

I nodded, ashamed to admit how much I'd feared his reaction. The Empire's propaganda ran deep, even in those who knew better.

"Livia," he said gently, reaching for my hand again. "Since joining the resistance, I've met more Talfen and half-bloods than I can count. They laugh, they love, they bleed just like anyone else." His grip tightened. "They're not the demons the Emperor would have us believe. They're just people."

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, overwhelmed by his understanding. "Tarshi is a good man," I whispered. "He loves me. He's devoted to me."

"I can see that," Marcus agreed. "He'd die for you without hesitation." A slight smile tugged at his mouth. "Though I admit, it explains why he watches me like a hawk whenever I'm near you."

I laughed softly, wiping away a stray tear. "He's... protective."

"As he should be." Marcus paused, his expression growing more serious. "Does Septimus know?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so. And I'm afraid of how he'll react when he finds out." I'd seen how Septimus looked at Tarshi, the naked hatred in his eyes. "He still sees the Talfen as the enemy."

"Give him time," Marcus advised. "He's carrying more wounds than most."

The weight of another secret pressed against my chest – Sirrax, his true nature, our bond that went deeper than rider and dragon. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again. One revelation at a time. Marcus had accepted so much already; I couldn't bear to test his understanding further today.

He noticed my hesitation. "There's something else, isn't there?"

"Nothing that can't wait for another day," I said, forcing a smile. "You've been extraordinarily understanding already."

He studied me for a moment, then nodded, not pressing further. Instead, he refilled our wine cups, his movements deliberate and measured. When he looked up at me again, there was a different heat in his eyes, one that made my skin tingle with awareness.

"I had planned to take you to the theatre this afternoon," he said, his voice dropping to a lower register that sent a shiver down my spine. "There's a traveling company performing 'The Fall of Ardentia.' I thought you might enjoy it."

"That sounds lovely," I said, though my pulse had quickened at the look in his eyes.

He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving mine. "But what I really want," he continued, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through me, "is to take you back to my rooms and make love to you until we both forget everything else."

Heat bloomed low in my belly, spreading outward in a wave that left me breathless. It had been too long since we'd been together like that – weeks of stolen moments and hasty kisses that never satisfied the deeper hunger.

"That sounds better than the theatre," I managed, my voice husky with desire.

His smile was slow and full of promise. "I was hoping you'd say that."