Page 52 of Realms of Swords and Storms (Empire of Vengeance #3)

T he Storm Festival transformed the usually austere imperial square into a riot of colour and sound.

Crimson and gold banners snapped in the gentle breeze, strung between buildings that normally exuded cold authority but today seemed almost festive.

Stalls lined the perimeter, selling everything from honey cakes to carved wooden toys, their vendors calling out to passersby with practiced enthusiasm.

Children darted between the legs of adults, their faces sticky with sweets, their laughter rising above the general din of the crowd.

"It's beautiful," Octavia breathed beside me, her eyes wide as she took it all in. "I never imagined it would be like this."

I nodded, trying to share her excitement while tamping down the guilt that churned in my stomach.

I had promised Jalend I wouldn't come today.

The memory of his face—the genuine concern in his eyes as he'd begged me to stay away—made my chest tight.

But how could I have explained why I needed to be here?

How could I have told him about the resistance's plans without endangering everything we'd worked for?

"Look at those puppets!" Octavia pointed to a small stage where a performer manipulated colourful marionettes for a crowd of delighted children. The wooden figures danced and twirled, acting out some traditional tale I didn't recognize. "And over there—I think those people are fire-eaters!"

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and despite my worries, I found myself smiling. Octavia had known so little joy in her life as a house slave; seeing her experience this simple pleasure felt like a gift.

"Let's explore a bit," I suggested, pushing my concerns aside for the moment. "We have time before the Emperor's speech."

We wandered through the stalls, sampling treats Octavia insisted on buying. Sweet fried dough dusted with cinnamon. Candied fruit on wooden skewers. Spiced wine that warmed my throat and loosened the knot of tension in my chest, if only temporarily.

"I had no idea there would be so many children here," Octavia remarked as we watched a group of youngsters chase each other around a maypole, colourful ribbons clutched in their small hands. "I always thought imperial festivals were more... formal."

"This is for the common people," I explained, remembering fragments of stories told by older gladiators who had seen festivals before their enslavement. "The nobility will have their own celebrations later, in private gardens and grand halls. But the Storm Festival has always belonged to everyone."

"It's wonderful," she said simply, her face soft with contentment.

I scanned the crowd as we walked, looking for familiar faces among the sea of strangers.

The resistance members would be here somewhere, preparing to distribute pamphlets and make their speeches once the Emperor arrived.

And Tarshi... where was Tarshi? I hadn't seen him since yesterday morning when he'd left for his meeting with Kalen.

Jalend's warning troubled me. How had he known something would happen today?

The resistance had been meticulous about secrecy, the plans for the public demonstration shared only with trusted members.

Yet Jalend had known enough to warn me away, had been so certain of danger that he'd risked revealing he had insider knowledge.

Could he be part of the resistance? The thought had occurred to me before.

There had been comments in our conversations—subtle criticisms of Imperial policy, questions about the treatment of the Talfen, observations about the Dragon Corps that suggested he saw the injustice of it all.

But I had never been certain. And I had never seen him at any meetings, which seemed impossible if he was truly involved.

"Livia!" A familiar voice cut through my thoughts.

I turned to see Mira weaving through the crowd toward us, her face flushed with excitement or nerves, perhaps both. She carried a small satchel that I knew contained the carefully printed pamphlets we had prepared for today's demonstration.

"You came," she said, reaching us and pulling me into a quick embrace. "I wasn't sure you would, after..." She trailed off, but I knew she was referring to my relationship with Tarshi, to the complications it had introduced.

"Of course I came," I replied. "I wouldn't miss this. It's too important."

Mira's smile was brilliant, though I could see the tension beneath it—the tightness around her eyes, the slight tremble in her hands as she adjusted the strap of her satchel.

"Are you ready?" I asked quietly.

She drew a deep breath, steadying herself. "As ready as I'll ever be. The others are in position. Once the Emperor begins his speech, we'll move to the platforms and balconies."

"And then you'll just... interrupt him?" Octavia asked, her voice hushed with a mixture of awe and concern.

Mira nodded. "I'll speak first. Make our case directly to him, to the crowd. We just want to be heard, Octavia. That's all we're asking for—a chance to tell the truth about what's happening to the Talfen, about the atrocities being committed in the Empire's name."

"You'll be arrested," Octavia said, stating the obvious with unusual bluntness.

"Yes," Mira agreed, unperturbed. "Probably before I finish speaking.

But it will be worth it. Worth it to make them listen, even for a few moments.

" Her eyes shone with conviction. "The people need to hear the truth from someone who isn't an imperial propagandist. They need to know what's being done in their name. "

I reached out, squeezing her arm gently. "If anyone can make them listen, it's you, Mira."

Her expression softened, gratitude replacing the nervous determination.

"Thank you." She touched my hand briefly, then glanced over her shoulder.

"I should go. Final preparations. I'll see you after.

.. well, probably in a prison cell, if I'm honest." She laughed, a shaky sound that betrayed her nerves despite her brave words.

"Be careful," I called after her as she disappeared back into the crowd.

"Do you think it will work?" Octavia asked once Mira was gone. "Will people really listen?"

I sighed, watching a group of children chase each other through the crowd, their faces alight with joy. "I don't know. But we have to try. If we stay silent, nothing will ever change."

We continued our exploration of the festival, but my enjoyment was muted now, overshadowed by thoughts of what was to come. When would the Emperor arrive? How would the crowd react to Mira's interruption? And where was Tarshi? His absence gnawed at me, a persistent worry I couldn't shake.

"Livia."

I turned at the sound of my name, relief washing through me as I spotted Marcus pushing through the crowd toward us, Antonius's towering frame visible just behind him.

"You came," Marcus said when he reached us, his voice tight with what might have been disapproval or concern. "I wasn't sure you would."

"I told you I would," I replied, studying his face. There were shadows under his eyes, a tension in his jaw that suggested he hadn't slept well. "What's wrong? Did you find Septimus?"

He shook his head, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard. "No. He's vanished. But that's not the only thing bothering me." He leaned closer, his voice dropping. "The guard patterns have changed. There are far fewer troops than there should be for an imperial appearance."

I frowned, only now realizing that I had noticed the same thing subconsciously. The usual contingent of imperial guards that accompanied any public event, especially one where the Emperor himself would appear, was conspicuously reduced.

"I noticed that too," Antonius rumbled, his massive frame somehow managing to look inconspicuous despite towering over most of the crowd. "And what's stranger—I've seen soldiers actively moving away from the square. Pulling back, as if clearing the area."

A faint unease stirred in my stomach. "That doesn't make sense. Shouldn't security be tightening as the Emperor's arrival approaches?"

"Exactly," Marcus agreed, his eyes continuing to scan the crowd, the rooftops, the shadows between buildings. "Something's not right."

Octavia, who had been listening quietly, spoke up hesitantly. "Does this have to do with what you were saying last night? About a spy in the resistance?"

Marcus nodded grimly. "I'm more convinced than ever. But Antonius raised a good point—if the Empire knew about our plans, wouldn't they be sending more troops in, not pulling them out?"

"Unless they want something to happen," Antonius said quietly, the implication hanging heavy in the air between us.

The unease in my stomach grew stronger, a cold sensation that had nothing to do with the pleasant spring breeze. I thought again of Jalend's warning, of the urgency in his eyes as he'd begged me to stay away.

"Jalend warned me," I said, the words coming out before I could consider the wisdom of sharing them. "Last night. He told me to stay away from the festival. Said something dangerous would happen."

Marcus's eyes narrowed. "Jalend? The nobleman's son who's been courting you?"

I nodded, ignoring the slight emphasis he'd placed on "courting." Now wasn't the time for that particular discussion.

"How would he know?" Marcus pressed, suspicion evident in his tone. "I've never seen him at any resistance meeting."

"I don't know," I admitted. "When I asked, he said he couldn't tell me, just begged me to trust him."

"And yet here you are," Octavia observed, her voice gentle rather than accusatory.

I didn't have a good answer for that. How could I explain that despite trusting Jalend's warning, I couldn't abandon the resistance's plans? That I needed to be here to support Tarshi, to witness what we had worked so hard to achieve?

"I had to come," I said simply.