Page 35 of City of Secrets and Shadows
For them, I would endure whatever came. I would master this new arena with its invisible weapons and shifting battlegrounds. I would become what I needed to be — Lady Livia Cantius, provincial noble, Dragon Elite candidate.
And when the time was right, I would reveal what truly lay beneath the mask — not just a gladiator, but vengeance incarnate.
10
Iwaited in Livia’s assigned quarters, pacing the length of the sitting room for what felt like the hundredth time. The suite was lavish by any standard — polished marble floors, silk hangings, furniture carved from rare woods and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. All the trappings of nobility that Livia would have to navigate convincingly in the days to come.
As her supposed steward, I’d been given a small but comfortable chamber adjoining hers, as had the half-breed and Octavia. Close enough to serve, far enough to maintain propriety. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Nothing about our relationship had ever been proper.
The door finally opened, and Livia entered, still dressed in the blue-and-silver training uniform of the academy. Her hair was damp at the temples, her skin flushed from exertion. Even in her exhaustion, she moved with the unconscious grace of a natural fighter.
“You’re late,” I said, more sharply than I’d intended.
She shot me a withering look. “The academy legates had additional questions. Was I supposed to tell them my steward was waiting impatiently?”
“What questions?” I moved closer, lowering my voice though we were alone. “Was there a problem with your credentials?”
“No.” She sank into a chair, rolling her shoulders to release tension. “They were impressed with Sirrax. Wanted to know more about our bonding process.”
“And what did you tell them?”
“Exactly what we rehearsed.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I’m not an amateur, Septimus.”
“In this arena, you are.” I crossed to a sideboard where servants had laid out refreshments and poured her a cup of watered wine.
“Where’s Tarshi?”
“I sent him to fetch Octavia. You’ll need her to get ready for the dinner tonight. What happened during the combat trials? Did you maintain the proper technique?”
She accepted the cup with a nod of thanks. “I fought like a noble, not a gladiator, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“And your opponent? Did they suspect anything?”
A shadow crossed her face. “My opponent was...observant. He noticed things about my stance, my reactions.”
Alarm flared through me. “What things? Who was he?”
“Someone named Jalend Corvus. Another minor noble, apparently, though...” She frowned slightly. “There was something different about him. He fought practically, without flourishes.”
“Corvus.” I searched my memory for the name. “I don’t recall that house among the prominent families.”
“Neither did anyone else, from what I could tell. But he wasn’t treated like an outsider.” She took a sip of wine. “He had the bearing of someone with significant training.”
“Did he say anything to suggest suspicion of your identity?”
“He commented on my stance — said I fight like someone who’s never had the luxury of treating combat as a game.” She shrugged. “But it wasn’t accusatory. More... observational.”
I swore under my breath. “That’s exactly the kind of attention we don’t need. Tomorrow, you need to be even more conscious of your movements, your reactions.”
Livia stared at me. “I was conscious of everything today. I spent hours performing for these people, watching every word, every gesture. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is?”
“Of course I do,” I snapped. “I’ve been performing my entire life. The difference is, I don’t have the luxury of complaining about it.”
She rose to her feet, temper flashing in her eyes. “You think I’m complaining? I’m telling you what happened so we can adjust our strategy.”
“Then tell me without the attitude. This isn’t the arena where you can say whatever you please.”
“Gods, what is wrong with you?” She set her cup down with enough force that wine sloshed over the rim. “You didn’t even want to do this in the first place, and now you’re driving me like a taskmaster. Make up your mind, Septimus.”
