Page 45 of Realms of Swords and Storms (Empire of Vengeance #3)

I knew something was wrong the moment Livia walked through our door.

Her face was pale, drawn with exhaustion and an emotion I couldn't immediately place—grief, perhaps, or a deep, soul-weary disappointment.

My heart clenched at the sight of her, that protective instinct that had never faded despite all our changes rising instantly to the surface.

"Livia," I said, rising from my chair at the small table where Antonius and I had been discussing the final plans for tomorrow's demonstration. "What's happened?"

She looked up, seeming almost surprised to find Antonius there as well. Her eyes darted between us, then to Octavia, who appeared from the small kitchen area, wiping her hands on a cloth.

"I'm sorry," Livia said, her voice rough as if she'd been crying. "I didn't realize you'd have company. I can come back later—"

"Nonsense," Octavia declared, immediately crossing the room to take Livia's arm. "You look like you're about to collapse. Sit down. I'll make tea."

Livia allowed herself to be guided to a chair, a testament to how shaken she was. Normally, she'd have bristled at being handled, would have insisted she was fine. But today she sank into the offered seat like her legs could no longer support her.

"What happened?" I asked again, taking the chair beside her. Antonius remained where he was, his large frame somehow managing to fade into the background, giving us a semblance of privacy in the small room.

Livia took a deep breath, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Septimus found out about Tarshi and me."

The simple statement hung in the air, heavy with implication.

I had known about her relationship with Tarshi for some time now, had made my peace with it.

But Septimus... Septimus had always harboured a deep hatred for the Talfen, blamed them for the destruction of our village, for all the suffering that followed. His reaction would have been explosive.

"Was he violent?" I asked, my voice tight with sudden anger. For all my understanding of Septimus's trauma, if he had hurt Livia...

"Not toward me," she said quickly, catching my tone. "He... he tried to hurt Tarshi. He nearly strangled him."

"That bastard," I muttered, fury rising like bile in my throat. I had always considered Septimus a brother, had fought beside him, bled with him. But in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to find him and make him pay for causing Livia pain.

"It's more complicated than that," Livia continued, her eyes dropping to her clasped hands. "There's something else. Something I didn't know until recently." She paused, seeming to gather her strength. "Septimus and Tarshi have been... involved. For months."

I stared at her, certain I had misheard. "Involved? You mean they've been fighting?"

She shook her head, a small, sad smile touching her lips at my deliberate obtuseness. "No, Marcus. Involved. Romantically. Sexually."

My mind reeled, trying to process this information. Septimus—who had spent years voicing his disgust for the Talfen, who had warned Livia repeatedly about the "taint" of Tarshi's blood—had been secretly sleeping with him? It was beyond comprehension.

"That's... that's impossible," I stammered. "Septimus hates the Talfen. He's never made any secret of it."

"Apparently, hate and desire aren't mutually exclusive," Livia said bitterly. "He's been sleeping with Tarshi in secret while publicly treating him like something less than human."

Octavia returned with a steaming mug of tea, which she pressed into Livia's hands. "Men," she said, with such profound disgust that despite everything, I almost smiled. "No offense, Marcus, Antonius."

"None taken," Antonius rumbled from his corner. His face was thoughtful, but not shocked, as if this revelation aligned with observations he had already made.

Octavia settled herself on a stool near Livia, one hand resting on her knee in silent support.

I was struck once again by the friendship that had developed between them—Octavia, the quiet, competent former house slave, and Livia, the fierce gladiator who had never quite learned how to be anything else.

They had found in each other something neither had known they needed: a female ally in a world dominated by men and violence.

"How did you find out?" I asked Livia, still struggling to wrap my mind around this revelation.

A flush rose to her cheeks. "Septimus walked in on Tarshi and me. Together."

"Oh," I said, understanding dawning. "Oh."

Livia took a sip of her tea, her hands steady despite everything. "It was... bad. He was horrified, disgusted. He tried to kill Tarshi. When I stopped him, he turned on me, called me..." She trailed off, the words apparently too painful to repeat.

Fury rose in me again, hot and clarifying. "I'll kill him," I said, half-rising from my chair.

"No," Livia said sharply, her hand shooting out to grip my wrist. "No, Marcus. That's not why I came to you."

I subsided, though the anger still burned in my chest. "Then why?"

"Because I'm worried about him," she admitted, her voice softening. "He stormed out, and he was... he wasn't himself. I'm afraid he'll do something stupid."

Of course. Even after everything, Livia still cared for Septimus. Still worried for his safety. It was one of the things I had always loved about her—her capacity for compassion, even toward those who had wounded her.

"Forgive me," Antonius spoke up, his deep voice gentle despite its natural rumble. "But I do not understand. You are concerned for the man who tried to kill your lover and called you terrible things?"

Livia's eyes flicked to him, and I saw the momentary fear there—fear that this huge northerner, whose friendship she had only recently begun to cultivate, would judge her harshly for her relationships, for her choices.

But Antonius's face held nothing but genuine curiosity and concern.

"In my homeland," he continued, seeming to sense her unease, "we do not share the Empire's fear of the Talfen.

We traded with them, sometimes even married them.

The idea that their blood is tainted... this is an Imperial teaching, not a universal truth. "

The tension in Livia's shoulders eased slightly.

"It's complicated," she said, echoing her earlier words.

"Septimus has suffered greatly because of Imperial actions, but he was raised to blame the Talfen.

It's easier for him, I think, to direct his hatred toward them rather than admit that humans—his own kind—could commit such atrocities without demonic influence. "

Antonius nodded, his massive hand wrapped almost comically around his own mug of tea. "Fear and hatred are powerful blindfolds. They allow a man to see only what he can bear to see."

"He'll have to remove those blindfolds eventually," Octavia said firmly, squeezing Livia's knee. "Septimus is an idiot. A blind, stubborn idiot." Her voice softened slightly. "But he's not evil. Just damaged. Like the rest of us."

Livia smiled at her, a genuine if tremulous expression. "When did you become so wise?"

"I've always been wise," Octavia retorted, tossing her head with mock arrogance. "You were just too busy stabbing things to notice."

Their laughter, though brief, lightened the heavy atmosphere. I watched them, feeling a surge of gratitude for Octavia's presence in our lives. She had a way of cutting through the drama, of stating simple truths that the rest of us, caught up in our own complexities, often missed.

"Look, I’ll admit, when you told me about you and Tarshi, I was shocked.

I really struggled with the idea, but when I really started to look, even I could see how much Tarshi adores you," Octavia continued, more seriously.

"And that he’s a good man. If I—who was raised in the heart of the Empire, surrounded by all its propaganda—can change my opinion of the Talfen, then Septimus can too. Eventually."

"I hope you're right," Livia said, though doubt lingered in her eyes. "But in the meantime, I'm worried about him. He left, and I don't know where he went."

"I'll find him," I promised, reaching over to take her hand. "I'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"Thank you," she said, squeezing my fingers. The simple touch sent a familiar warmth through me, a reminder of what we had once been to each other. What, in some ways, we still were. "Where's Tarshi now?" I asked, forcing my mind back to the practical matters at hand.

"At a meeting with Kalen and some of the resistance leaders," Livia answered. "They've been closeted together for hours."

I exchanged a glance with Antonius, a silent communication passing between us. It was strange that we hadn't been called to this meeting, especially when we had been included in all previous planning sessions for the demonstration.

"What kind of meeting?" Antonius asked, voicing my unspoken concern.

Livia shrugged, though a small frown creased her brow. "I'm not sure. He was... upset after Septimus left. Said he needed to clear his head. When he came back, he mentioned a meeting with Kalen, but he was vague about the details."

A tendril of unease unfurled in my gut. Tarshi was a good man—I believed that now, despite my initial misgivings about his Talfen heritage. But even good men had their breaking points. And being rejected so violently by someone he cared for...

"You're worried," Livia observed, watching my face with that uncanny perceptiveness that had always been one of her strengths.

"It's probably nothing," I said, not wanting to add to her concerns. "Just... strange that they'd have a meeting without us."

"Kalen and Mira have been unusually secretive lately," Antonius agreed, his normally impassive face troubled. "I think there may be more to tomorrow's plans than they have revealed to us."

Livia's frown deepened. "You think Tarshi might be involved in something dangerous?"