Page 48 of Realms of Swords and Storms (Empire of Vengeance #3)

Every option seemed inadequate, impotent. For all my supposed power and privilege, I was as helpless as any common citizen against the machinations of the Empire. More so, perhaps, because I knew what was coming and could do nothing to stop it.

I was so absorbed in these bleak thoughts that I almost collided with two figures turning onto the academy grounds from the main road. I stepped back, an apology ready on my lips, when the smaller of the two figures looked up, moonlight illuminating a familiar face.

"Jalend?" Livia's voice carried surprise and a hint of wariness. "What are you doing out so late?"

I recovered quickly, years of court training once again serving me well. "I could ask you the same question," I replied, injecting a teasing note into my voice. "The hour is rather advanced for proper young ladies to be wandering the streets."

She rolled her eyes at the implication that she was a "proper young lady," a gesture so characteristic of her that it made something in my chest ache. Standing beside her was the quiet servant girl who often accompanied her—Octavia, I recalled.

"We had business in the city," Livia said vaguely, then turned to her companion. "Octavia, would you mind going ahead? I'll catch up in a moment."

Octavia nodded, though I caught the concerned glance she directed at Livia before she continued on toward the academy buildings. Interesting. Whatever "business" they had conducted seemed to have left Livia in a state that worried her friend.

Now that we were alone, I studied Livia more carefully. She looked tired, her face drawn, shadows beneath her eyes suggesting recent sleeplessness. There was a tension in her posture too, a subtle readiness that reminded me she had been trained as a warrior long before she became a dragon rider.

"Are you alright?" I asked, genuine concern overriding my usual carefully calibrated charm. "You look... troubled."

She attempted a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm fine. Just tired. It's been a long day."

I wasn't convinced, but I didn't press. We all had our secrets, after all. Mine were perhaps more consequential than most, but I had no right to demand hers.

"Well, tomorrow's a rest day for the festival," I said, falling into step beside her as we walked toward the dormitories. "You could use it to catch up on sleep."

"That's true," she agreed, though something in her tone suggested sleep was the furthest thing from her mind.

A wild, reckless idea struck me. "Or," I suggested, keeping my voice light, "you could come to my rooms instead. I'm told I provide excellent relaxation services."

The flirtation was automatic, a defence mechanism to hide my growing worry. But to my surprise and relief, Livia laughed—a genuine sound that momentarily erased the strain from her features.

"I'm not sure 'relaxation' is what would happen if I came to your rooms, Lord Northreach," she retorted, a spark of her usual spirit returning.

I clutched my chest in mock offense. "You wound me, Lady Cantius. I am the very soul of gentlemanly restraint."

"Is that what you call what happened in the stables?" she asked, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

Heat flared in my blood at the memory—her body pressed against mine, her soft gasps as I touched her, the way she had trembled when she came apart in my hands. Not for the first time, I wondered what it would be like to have her fully, to feel her beneath me, around me...

I cleared my throat, forcing my mind away from that dangerous path. "Actually, I believe that was a mutual abandonment of restraint," I countered, enjoying the blush that rose to her cheeks. "But my point stands. You should rest tomorrow. Recuperate."

"I wish I could," she said, the brief lightness fading from her voice. "But Octavia and I are planning to attend the festival. Neither of us has ever been, and they say it's quite the spectacle."

My stomach dropped. Of all the people in the capital, Livia was perhaps the last person I wanted anywhere near tomorrow's events. The thought of her in danger, caught in whatever trap the Empire was setting...

"The festival happens every year," I said, keeping my tone casual despite the sudden tension gripping my chest. "And it's always a crushing crowd, more noise than spectacle.

You'd have a much better time elsewhere.

" I moved closer, my voice dropping to a suggestive murmur.

"My offer of relaxation services still stands.

I promise to provide entertainment far superior to watching sweaty peasants dance around a pole. "

She laughed again but shook her head. "As tempting as that sounds—and it is tempting—I've made a promise to Octavia. We're going to explore the market stalls, watch the procession, maybe try some of those honey cakes everyone talks about."

We had reached the academy gates now, the torches flanking the entrance casting flickering shadows across her face.

I looked at her—really looked at her—and was struck again by how beautiful she was, not in the carefully cultivated way of court ladies, but in a fierce, authentic manner that made those women seem like pale imitations of femininity.

And she was walking straight into danger.

I couldn't bear it. To hell with caution, with my promise to Santius, with the complex game of court politics and appearances. I took her hands in mine, feeling the calluses that spoke of her warrior training.

"Livia," I said, all pretence falling away from my voice. "Don't ask me how I know this, but please, don't go to the festival tomorrow. Something is going to happen—something dangerous. I can't explain more than that, but I'm asking you to trust me."

She stared at me, confusion and suspicion warring in her expression. "How do you know that?"

I shook my head, frustration tight in my chest. "I can't tell you. I wish I could, but I can't. Just... please. Stay away from the festival. Keep Octavia away too."

She was silent for a long moment, studying my face as if searching for some sign of deception. I met her gaze steadily, willing her to believe me, to heed my warning even without understanding its source.

"All right," she said finally, her voice soft. "I won't go."

Relief flooded through me, so powerful it made my knees weak. "Thank you," I said, squeezing her hands before releasing them. "I know it doesn't make sense, but—"

"You're right, it doesn't," she agreed, but her tone was gentle rather than accusatory. "But I trust you, Jalend. If you say there's danger, I believe you."

The simple statement of trust hit me with unexpected force. How long had it been since someone had trusted me simply because they believed in my character, rather than my rank or my father's power? I couldn't remember. Maybe it had never happened before.

"I'll check on you tomorrow," I promised. "Make sure you're not too bored without the festival excitement."

She smiled, a small, tired expression that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm sure I'll manage to entertain myself somehow."

"Good night, Livia," I said, reluctant to part from her but knowing I had no legitimate reason to linger.

"Good night, Jalend." She turned toward the dormitories, then paused, looking back over her shoulder. "Be careful."

Before I could ask what she meant by that—what danger she thought I might face—she was gone, her slender figure disappearing into the shadows of the academy grounds.

I stood there for a long moment, the night air cool against my face, my thoughts a tangled mess of worry, relief, and lingering anger at my father and the Empire he represented. I had warned Livia, at least. She would be safe tomorrow, whatever happened at the festival.

But what of the countless others who would attend, unknowing, unwary? What of the resistance members walking into a trap, or the innocent bystanders who might be caught in the violence that would surely follow? Could I truly stand by and let it happen, knowing what I knew?

My father's voice echoed in my mind—cold, pragmatic, unyielding. "A ruler must sometimes sacrifice the few for the many. Sentiment is a luxury the throne cannot afford."

I had accepted that teaching once, had believed it necessary for effective governance. But standing alone in the night, with Livia's trust still warm in my memory, I found I could no longer embrace such cold calculation.

The question remained: what could I do? What action could possibly make a difference in the face of Imperial machinery so vast and implacable?

I had no answer. But as I finally turned toward my own quarters, one thing became clear—I could not, would not, stay safely ensconced in the academy while blood was shed in the streets tomorrow. My father's command be damned.

If there was to be violence at the festival, I would be there. Not as the Emperor's son, not as the heir to a blood-soaked throne, but simply as a man who could no longer stomach standing idle while innocents suffered.

What that decision might cost me, I did not yet know. But for the first time in my life, I found myself unconcerned with the price of defying my father. Some principles, it seemed, were worth any cost.