Page 126 of City of Secrets and Shadows
“Not if your performance with Sirrax was any indication.” He gestured toward a long table where servants were arranging scrolls. “Though the competition was fierce this year.”
Before I could formulate a response to this uncomfortably perceptive observation, a ripple of anticipation moved through the crowd. Conversations quieted, heads turned toward the main entrance.
“It seems our benevolent Emperor has arrived,” Jalend said, his voice dropping with unmistakable sarcasm.
A gong sounded, and the hall fell silent as a herald stepped forward, his voice ringing out over the assembled guests.
“His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Valorian the Third, Lord of the Seven Provinces, Protector of the Empire, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces.”
I looked toward the entrance, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest. After thirteen years of hatred and planning, I was about to see the man responsible for the destruction of my village, for the deaths of my family, for the enslavement that had defined most of my life.
The man I had sworn to kill.
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Everyone in the room dropped into deep bows and curtsies as the Emperor entered, surrounded by his Imperial Guard. I sank into a curtsy of my own, head bowed, heart pounding with hatred so intense it felt like my chest might burst with it.
This was the man. The one who had ordered the destruction of my village. Who had condemned my people to death for the crime of wanting peace with the Talfen. Who had sent soldiers like Arilius to slaughter innocents and burn their homes.
When I dared to look up, I was surprised by what I saw. Emperor Valorian was younger than I’d expected — perhaps in his late fifties — with a face that might have been handsome if not for the hardness in his eyes. There was something almost familiar about him. He moved with the confidence of a man accustomed to absolute power, his crimson and gold robes swirling around him as he acknowledged the obeisance of his subjects with practiced grace.
He proceeded to a raised dais at the far end of the room, where he took his seat on an ornate throne. Beside him stood General Maximus, the commander of all Imperial forces, and severalother high-ranking officials I recognized from my briefings with the resistance.
“Rise,” the Emperor commanded, his voice carrying effortlessly through the vast space. “Tonight we celebrate a momentous occasion — the acceptance of a new class of dragon riders into the Imperial Academy. These young men and women represent the future of our great Empire, the shield that will protect our people from the Talfen threat that continues to grow at our borders.”
A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd.
“Recent victories against the Talfen insurgents have given us cause for celebration,” he continued, “but we must not grow complacent. The enemy is cunning and relentless. They hide among us, spreading their poison, turning loyal citizens against the Empire with their lies.”
The hatred in his voice was palpable, stirring, answering hatred in the hearts of his listeners. I could see it in their faces — the anger, the fear, the blind acceptance of his words.
“Just last month, our brave soldiers destroyed a major Talfen stronghold in the northern mountains, killing over three hundred of the enemy, including their leader.”
My grip tightened on my wine glass. I knew this was a lie. The resistance had confirmed that the “stronghold” had been a refugee camp, filled mostly with women, children, and the elderly. Tarshi had learned of the attack during one of the resistance meetings and had told me quietly. It had dealt a devastating and heartbreaking blow to those involved.
“This victory has dealt a serious blow to their operations, but we must press our advantage. Therefore, I am announcing tonight that we will be expanding our military presence in the border regions. All graduates of this year’s academy class will be deployed immediately upon completion of their training to join our forces in the field.”
Shocked whispers spread through the crowd. Traditionally, new dragon riders spent at least a year in ceremonial duties before seeing combat. This was an unprecedented acceleration.
“These are extraordinary times that call for extraordinary measures,” the Emperor declared. “The Talfen threat must be eliminated once and for all, and we will commit every resource to this sacred task.”
Applause erupted, enthusiastic and unquestioning. I forced myself to join in, my face a mask of approval while my stomach churned with disgust.
As the Emperor concluded his speech and the music resumed, conversations around me buzzed with excited speculation about the coming campaign against the Talfen. Nobles who had never seen combat eagerly discussed the prospect of total victory, of wiping the Talfen “scourge” from the face of the earth once and for all.
“Quite a pronouncement, wasn’t it?” a smooth voice said beside me.
I turned to find a middle-aged nobleman watching me with shrewd eyes. “Indeed it was, my lord...?”
“Romus Gato,” he supplied with a slight bow. “And you are Lady Cantius, newly accepted to the academy. My congratulations.”
“Thank you, Lord Gato.” The name struck a chord of recognition. Gato was a member of the Imperial Council, one of the Emperor’s closest advisors — and, according to resistance intelligence, one of the most virulent anti-Talfen voices in the government.
“You’ve chosen an exciting time to join the academy,” he continued. “Your first deployment is likely to be more... eventful than most.”
“So it seems.”
“Does that prospect concern you, my lady? Not all young nobles have the stomach for real warfare.”
