Page 117 of City of Secrets and Shadows
Sirrax shifted, curling his massive body around me protectively. Through our bond, I felt a wave of warmth and acceptance, an emotion too complex for words but that I understood instinctively. He didn’t judge. He didn’t condemn. He simply acknowledged my pain and offered comfort.
“His wife,” I whispered, the woman’s scream still echoing in my ears. “She sounded like me, Sirrax. When they killed Tarus, I screamed just like that.”
The dragon made a soft crooning sound, nudging my shoulder gently.
“And he didn’t even remember Tarus. All these years I’ve carried the memory of my brother’s murder, and the man who did it couldn’t even remember his face.” Tears flowed freely now, hot tracks down my cold cheeks. “What does that mean? What was it all for?”
I have rarely cried since the day Tarus died. Not when I was sold to the ludus. Not when Cato beat me within an inch of my life for disobedience. Not when Drusus violated me for his pleasure, or when I killed my first opponent in the arena. Emotion was dangerous and I was convinced that vengeance would be my only solace. I always had to be strong.
But now, with Arilius’s blood still drying on my skin, the dam broke. I wept for Tarus, for my parents, for the village I had lost. I wept for the child I had been and the woman I had become. I wept for Arilius’s wife, now living the nightmare I had endured. Most of all, I wept because the vengeance I had sought for so long had brought me no peace, no closure, no sense that the scales of justice had been balanced.
Sirrax remained a solid, comforting presence as my grief poured out. Through our bond, I felt his steadfast support, his unwavering acceptance. Dragons didn’t understand human concepts of revenge or justice, but they understood loyalty and protection. In his mind, I had eliminated a threat to my pack. It was that simple.
Eventually, the storm of emotion subsided, leaving me drained but strangely clear-headed. I wiped my face with a corner of my tunic that wasn’t soaked with blood.
“One down,” I whispered. “But he was just following orders. The real culprit is still out there.”
The Emperor. But for the first time since I’d embarked on this path of vengeance, I questioned whether killing him would bring me any more satisfaction than killing Arilius had. Would it fill the emptiness inside me? Would it bring back Tarus andmy parents? Would it make the thirteen years of slavery and suffering worthwhile? I was wiser now and I had my answer splashed in blood across my face. I knew that assassinating the Emperor wouldn’t do any of that.
Emperor Valorian. The man whose policies treated the Talfen as subhuman, who sent soldiers to slaughter innocent civilians under the pretence of security. The man whose greed and paranoia had torn apart countless families like mine. The man who had killed my brother was dead. But the monster who had ordered my village destroyed still lived, still ruled, still sent soldiers to commit atrocities in the name of Imperial security. My path forward still led to the Emperor, to the promised day when I would stand before him and exact the final payment for what had been taken from me. Peace. Not the false peace of vengeance fulfilled, but something deeper and more lasting. The peace that comes from building rather than destroying. From creating a future rather than avenging the past. Killing him might not bring me the peace I craved, but maybe whoever came after him could bring peace to the Empire.
Vengeance would be mine, but my parents had fought for peace, and I would too. I would leave diplomacy to those suited for it. I was not a politician or a noble. I was a gladiator and I had trained, fought and killed in the arena.
“Through blood and steel, I will forge myself into the weapon of their destruction,” I whispered, the words starting to take on a new meaning in my mind as I spoke them to myself in the dark.
Sirrax stirred, his massive head coming to rest beside me. His golden eyes studied me with an intelligence that sometimes caught me off guard. Dragons were not mere beasts, despite how the academy taught us to treat them. They were ancient, wise creatures with their own understanding of the world.
I placed my hand on his snout, feeling the heat of his breath against my palm. The scales beneath my fingers were warm andsmooth, vibrating slightly with each exhalation. “What should I do, Sirrax? I’ve come so far, sacrificed so much.”
Through our bond came a sensation I hadn’t experienced before — a warmth that spread from my chest outward, accompanied by images that weren’t quite mine. Flashes of flight, of soaring above clouds, of viewing the world from heights where human conflicts seemed small and temporary. The freedom of the sky, where past and future melted into the endless now of wind and sunlight.
“You understand, don’t you?” I whispered, pressing my forehead against his scales. “You always understand me.”
His response wasn’t in words but in emotions — a fierce surge of protective loyalty mingled with something deeper. In that moment, I felt him not as a mount or a weapon, but as a kindred spirit. Another soul who knew what it meant to be bound by chains both visible and invisible.
I closed my eyes, allowing myself to sink deeper into our connection. The academy taught us that dragon bonds were utilitarian — a psychic link that allowed rider and mount to coordinate in battle. But this felt like something more ancient and profound. As if Sirrax had recognized something in me from our first meeting, some essential quality that called to him.
I ran my hand along his great neck, fingers brushing over his great iron collar. It was heavily rusted, eroding in places. The academy would want to replace it were we to be accepted, but I couldn’t quite face the thought of placing another around his neck. There was no way they’d allow him to remain here without a way of chaining him though, and the thought broke my heart. I might have some degree of freedom after escaping from the arena, but Sirrax didn’t. His loyalty to me meant he was still bound in chains.
My heart ached with sadness and guilt, but a wave of love and pride washed over me, and I blinked at him. It was such a strong sensation, it brought fresh tears to my eyes.
“I love you too,” I whispered. “And I swear, when this is over I’ll free you completely. No more collars, no more cages."
A pulse of fierce approval came through our bond, so strong it left me breathless. For a brief moment, I could have sworn I saw something flicker in Sirrax’s golden eyes — a consciousness more complex than anything the academy masters would acknowledge.
He lowered his head, positioning it so that his breath warmed my blood-stained clothes. The heat intensified, drying the fabric against my skin. It was an oddly tender gesture from such a massive predator, like a mother cat cleaning her kitten.
“Thank you,” I murmured, stroking the sensitive spot beneath his jaw that always made him rumble with pleasure. “For everything.”
Through our connection, I felt his certainty — whatever came next, we would face it together. His loyalty wasn’t to the academy or the Empire, but to me alone. In a world where every relationship seemed complicated by ulterior motives and divided loyalties, there was something profoundly reassuring about the dragon’s straightforward devotion.
I hadn’t come seeking absolution, but somehow Sirrax had given me something even more valuable — acceptance. Not just of what I had done tonight, but of who I was at my core. The broken girl, the vengeful gladiator, the woman beginning to question her path — he embraced all these versions of me without judgment.
The academy’s bells tolled in the distance, marking the fifth hour after midnight. Soon the sky would begin to lighten with the approach of dawn. I needed to clean myself and return to our quarters before Marcus and Septimus discovered my absence.
“I need to go,” I told Sirrax, rising stiffly to my feet. “But I’ll be back tomorrow.”
The dragon huffed softly, a plume of warm air rustling my hair. His tail curled briefly around my ankles — a last touch of reassurance before releasing me to the human world with all its complexities. Through our connection, I felt a pulse of what I could only interpret as love — uncomplicated, unconditional.
