Page 40 of Realms of Swords and Storms (Empire of Vengeance #3)

“I will not stand by and let him use you to punish himself while treating you like something shameful. He needs to see the truth. He needs to see us.” My own anger was a low burn now, directed entirely at Septimus and his stubborn, self-destructive pride.

He was hurting Tarshi, and my protective instincts—now amplified by the fresh Talfen bond—roared at the injustice.

“We face him together. As mates. He can accept the truth of us, or he can reject it. But the choice will be his, and the secret will be out in the open. We have enough enemies outside these walls. We can’t afford to have them within.”

“I can’t tell him… about the way I feel. Not yet. Not when I’m sure he’ll throw it back in my face.”

My anger flared again, hotter this time. "And yet you still have feelings for him? When you think he would do this to you?”

Tarshi's laugh was hollow. "Trust me, I've asked myself the same question. But yes. Despite everything, despite how much he clearly despises what I am, I can't seem to stop caring about him." His voice dropped to a pained whisper. "Pathetic, isn't it?"

"No," I said firmly, pulling him into my arms. "It's not pathetic.

It's human. And Talfen too, I suppose." I stroked his hair, feeling his body relax incrementally against mine.

"Love isn't always convenient or sensible.

Sometimes it's messy and painful and doesn't make any logical sense.

But that doesn't make it any less real."

We sat like that for a long time, wrapped in each other's arms beneath the flowering arbour.

I thought about Septimus—his ferocity in the arena, his tenderness in private moments, the walls he maintained between himself and the world.

How much of his hatred toward Tarshi was really self-hatred? How much of his cruelty was fear?

"I told Marcus about us," I said eventually, breaking the comfortable silence. "About you and me. He was... surprisingly understanding."

Tarshi pulled back slightly to look at me. "Really? I would have thought he'd be jealous."

"I think a part of him always will be," I admitted. "But he respects my choices. And he respects you, which helps." I smiled faintly. "He even gave Antonius advice about approaching me, did you know that?"

"Antonius?" Tarshi's eyebrows shot up. "The northern giant? He's interested in you?"

I nodded, amused by his surprise. "Apparently so. Marcus says he asked for advice on how to... court me, I suppose."

"And how do you feel about that?"

I considered the question seriously. "I don't know him well enough yet to have formed any deep attachment. But I find him intriguing. There's a quiet strength to him, a depth beneath that stoic exterior."

Tarshi studied me for a moment, then smiled—a genuine smile that reached his eyes for the first time since we'd left the olive grove. "You're remarkable, do you know that? Most people struggle to maintain one meaningful relationship, and here you are, considering yet another."

I felt my cheeks warm. "It's not about quantity, you know. It's about connections that feel right, that add something valuable to my life. To our lives."

"I know." His smile softened. "It's one of the many things I love about you. Your capacity for love is... extraordinary."

Something swelled in my chest at his words—a feeling of fullness, of rightness.

With Tarshi's acceptance of his Talfen nature, with our bonding in the olive grove, I felt more complete, more powerful than I ever had before.

It wasn't just the ritual or the physical act that had changed things between us—it was the honesty, the vulnerability, the absolute acceptance of each other's true natures.

"I was so proud of you tonight," I said, running my fingers along the line of his jaw. "When you transformed, when you took to the air with Sirrax... you were breathtaking. Absolutely beautiful."

His expression softened with pleasure at my praise. "It felt right. For the first time since these changes started happening, I felt whole. Complete. And flying..." He shook his head, words failing him. "There's nothing like it, Livia. Nothing in the world compares to that freedom."

I could see it in his eyes—the memory of soaring through the night sky, of power and grace and absolute liberation.

Part of me envied him that experience, that connection to something so primal and magnificent.

But mostly I was simply happy for him, grateful that he had found peace with himself at last.

"What colour was I?" he asked suddenly. "As a dragon, I mean. I couldn't really see myself properly."

"Deep blue," I answered, smiling at the memory.

"Like the twilight sky just after sunset, before true darkness falls.

With lighter blue on your underside and darker, almost black ridges along your spine.

And your eyes..." I touched the corner of his eye gently.

"They were still your eyes, somehow. The same shape, the same intensity, just larger and glowing with inner fire. "

He seemed pleased by the description. "Blue. Not black like Sirrax."

"Each Talfen has their own colouring, according to Sirrax.

It's as distinctive as hair or eye colour in humans.

" I traced the line of his collarbone, visible above the loose neckline of his tunic.

"Your scales matched the blue that appears when you partially transform.

They're part of you, not some demonic corruption. "

"I understand that now," he said softly. "Thanks to you. To both of you."

We fell silent again, both lost in our own thoughts.

My mind returned to Septimus, to the complicated tangle of emotions surrounding him.

I loved him—had loved him since our time together in the gladiatorial school.

But his treatment of Tarshi infuriated me.

How could he be so tender, so gentle with me, yet so cruel to someone I loved?

How could he fail to see the beauty and strength in Tarshi that was so obvious to me?

And what would happen when he learned the full truth? That I had willingly, joyfully bound myself to not one but two men he would consider "tainted"?

The thought of losing him sent a sharp pain through my chest. But the thought of Tarshi continuing to suffer Septimus's contempt, of him believing himself unworthy of love because of what he was—that was unbearable.

“Don’t think too badly or Septimus, Little Dragon,” said Tarshi softly. "He's a product of Imperial teachings and he's fighting against a lifetime of conditioning."

"That's very generous of you."

He smiled ruefully. "Not really. It's selfish, actually. Because despite everything, I still hope that someday he might see beyond what he's been taught to believe. That he might see me as I truly am, not as what the Empire has labelled me."

The raw vulnerability in his confession made my throat tight with emotion.

This was a side of Tarshi I was the only one that got to see—the hopeful, yearning heart beneath the warrior's exterior.

It made me love him even more fiercely, made me determined to protect that hope, that capacity for forgiveness, whatever it might cost.

Tarshi glanced up at the position of the moons. "It's late. We should get some rest. You have training tomorrow."

But neither of us moved immediately. The night was peaceful, the garden secluded, and after the intensity of the evening—the transformation, the hunt, the claiming—I was reluctant to part from him just yet.

"Stay with me tonight," I said impulsively. "In my quarters."

His eyebrows rose. "And if Septimus catches us?”

“Then I guess we won’t have to work out how to tell him. I want to be close to you. I want to fall asleep in your arms and wake up beside you."

The warmth that spread across his face was answer enough. "Your wish is my command, Little Dragon," he said.

As we made our way toward my quarters, keeping to shadows to avoid any late-night observers, I felt a curious mixture of emotions—joy at the deepening bond with Tarshi, worry about Septimus's reaction to our news, anger at his treatment of Tarshi, and beneath it all, a steady current of strength that hadn't been there before.

The ritual in the olive grove, the bonding with Tarshi as my Talfen mate alongside Sirrax, had changed something fundamental within me.

I felt more powerful, more centred, as if the connections to both men had amplified my own inner strength rather than dividing it.

Was this what Sirrax had meant when he spoke of the prestige and power that came to Talfen females with multiple worthy mates?

Whatever the source, I welcomed the feeling. In the days to come, with the festival approaching and the resistance plans moving forward, I would need all the strength I could muster. We all would.

As we slipped into my quarters, Tarshi pulled me into his arms, his lips finding mine with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the fierce passion of our earlier claiming. This was a different kind of intimacy—quieter, gentler, but no less profound.

"Thank you," he whispered against my lips.

"For what?"

"For accepting all of me. For helping me accept myself." His eyes, so close to mine, shimmered with emotion. "For being my mate in every sense of the word."

I brushed my fingers across the pulse point at his throat, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "Always," I promised. "No matter what comes next."

And as we sank onto my narrow bed, wrapped in each other's arms beneath the silver light of the twin moons, I renewed that promise silently to myself.

Whatever happened with Septimus, whatever dangers the festival might bring, whatever secrets the Empire still kept hidden—I would stand by Tarshi, by Sirrax, by all those I loved.

Not because I belonged to them, or they to me, but because together we were stronger than we could ever be alone. Because together, we might just change the world.