Page 120 of City of Secrets and Shadows
“Because you would have tried to protect me from it. From the reality of what vengeance actually feels like.” She touched my face, her fingers cool against my skin. “You’ve always tried to shield me, ever since you promised Tarus you’d keep me safe. But some wounds need to be felt, not bandaged.”
Her words struck a chord of truth I didn’t want to acknowledge. Since the day we’d been captured, I’d appointed myself her protector. It was the promise I’d made to her dying brother, yes, but it was more than that. It was how I justified my own survival when so many others had died. If I kept Livia alive, if I helped her achieve her vengeance, then maybe my life would have meaning.
But increasingly, I wondered if I was protecting Livia or simply controlling her. If my devotion was selfless or the most selfish thing about me.
“I would have gone with you,” I said quietly. “Not to shield you, but to stand beside you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Livia. To stand beside you.”
“I know.” She leaned her head against my shoulder, her damp hair leaving a cool spot on my skin. “And I love you for it. But this was a step I needed to take alone.”
The words slipped past my defences, lodging somewhere beneath my ribs.I love you.She’d never said those words to me before, though I’d felt them in countless other ways — in her trust, her loyalty, the way she always found her way back to my side no matter what.
“Did you feel anything?” I asked. “When he died? Anything at all?”
“Empty,” she whispered. “I felt empty. And then I felt everything at once — grief, rage, regret, relief. It was overwhelming. I went to Sirrax afterward. Being with him... it helped. Dragons don’t judge. They just accept.”
I nodded, though a stab of jealousy cut through me at the thought that she’d sought comfort from the dragon rather than from me. It was irrational, I knew. Sirrax was bound to her in ways I could never match. And yet—
“Was it worth it?” I asked. “Now that it’s done?”
She was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know. I thought killing Arilius would be a step toward healing. Instead, it feels like I’ve opened a wound I didn’t know was there.” She straightened, looking into my eyes. “But it’s done. And now I know.”
“Know what?”
“That killing the Emperor won’t bring me peace either.” She spoke the words without emotion, a simple statement of fact. “But I’m still going to do it.”
A chill ran through me. “Why? If you know it won’t help—”
“Because it’s not just about me anymore. It’s about all of us. About the Talfen. About ending this war.” Her eyes had that determined look I knew too well. “My parents died trying to make peace. I’m going to finish what they started — not with diplomacy, but with blood.”
“By assassinating the Emperor? Livia, even if you succeed, there will just be another tyrant to take his place. The system doesn’t change because one man dies.”
“Maybe not. But it sends a message. And sometimes a message is enough to start a revolution.” She stood, moving to the washbasin to splash water on her face. “We still have months before the final ceremony. Plenty of time to plan the details.”
I watched her, this woman who had grown from the terrified girl I’d sworn to protect into someone I barely recognized sometimes. Strong, ruthless, unyielding — and yet also capable of profound compassion and vulnerability. The contradictions in her echoed my own.
There was so much I wasn’t telling her. The shame and confusion that tangled inside me whenever I thought of Tarshi. The way he’d pushed me to my knees in that alley behind the tavern, his hand fisted in my hair, forcing me to look up at him.“I’m going to come down your throat. And you’re going to swallow every drop.”
And then his mouth on mine, brutal and demanding, stealing my breath and my resistance in one devastating move. The hardness of his body against mine, so different from a woman's softness. The way his strength had matched my own, challenged it, overcome it. The thrill of that defeat, shocking in its intensity.
I’d left as soon as it was over, disgusted with myself, with him, with the whole sick situation. But the truth I couldn’t escape was that I’d thought about it every moment since. Craved it. Hated myself for craving it. Dreamed of what might have happened if I hadn’t fled — of Tarshi’s hands continuing their exploration, of my surrender becoming complete, of the line between hatred and desire blurring until it disappeared entirely.
These thoughts haunted me, tormented me. Each time Tarshi entered a room, my body tensed — partly in genuine revulsion, partly in anticipation. Each time our eyes met, I wondered if he could see the war raging inside me. If he knew that I lay awake at night, reliving that moment in the alley, imagining variations where I didn’t resist, where I gave in to the hunger that clawed at my insides.
What would Livia think if she knew? What would any of them think? That I was bewitched, perhaps — ensnared by some Talfen magic. That was easier to believe than the truth: thatsomething in me had always been drawn to the forbidden. To power. To submission. That Tarshi had simply been the one to recognize and exploit it.
The shame of it burned like fire in my veins. I’d been raised to believe the Talfen were animals at best, demons at worst. My family had served the Empire proudly for generations. My father had died fighting Talfen rebels. And here I was, fantasizing about surrendering to one. About being dominated, controlled, possessed by the enemy.
How could I tell Livia that? How could I explain that while she was risking everything for our mission, I was betraying her with thoughts of the enemy? That I was betraying myself?
I couldn’t. Some secrets were too heavy to share, even with her.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, turning to face me. “You look troubled.”
I swallowed hard. “Just worried about you. About all of this.” Not a lie, exactly, but not the whole truth either. “You could have been killed tonight, Livia. Do you understand what that would do to us? To me?”
She approached me slowly, her expression softening. “I’m sorry I worried you. But I’m not sorry I did it.”
“I know.” I reached for her hand, gripping it tightly in mine. “You never apologize for doing what you believe is right. It’s one of the things I—” I stopped, the word catching in my throat.
