Page 50 of City of Secrets and Shadows
“A gathering place,” she replied. “For people like us.”
“Healers?”
Her smile widened slightly. “Among other things. We have gatherings here. Officially, we celebrate Talfen culture, keep our traditions alive.” She tied off the bandage around my ribs and met my gaze directly. “Unofficially, we discuss how to ensure we have a future worth living.”
The implication was clear enough. Resistance. Not open rebellion — none could survive that in the heart of the Empire — but something more subtle. More patient.
“Dangerous discussions,” I observed.
“All worthwhile discussions are dangerous in the Empire.” She moved to a small stove in the corner and set water to boil. “I’m Suura, by the way. Since I’ve had my hands all over your body, it seems we should be properly introduced.” Her eyes flashed with humour, and I realized it wasn’t a flirtation, just an attempt to lighten the conversation. I grinned.
“Tarshi,” I offered.
She handed me a cup, the steam carrying the scent of herbs I recognized from my childhood — moonroot and sylphberry.
“How did you know to prepare this?” I asked, inhaling the spicy aroma.
“We keep the old knowledge alive here,” she replied simply. “Drink. It will help with the pain.”
I sipped the tea, allowing its warmth to spread through me. The pain in my ribs receded slightly, enough that I could breathe more easily.
“We’re having a gathering tomorrow night,” Suura said after a moment. “Nothing grand, nothing that would draw Imperial attention. Just people sharing stories, keeping our culture alive.” She watched me over the rim of her cup. “You would be welcome.”
I hesitated. Such gatherings were illegal, and if these gatherings involved discussions of resistance, however subtle...
“I should focus on healing,” I said carefully.
“Of course.” Suura nodded. “Though sometimes healing requires more than bandages and tea. Sometimes it requires remembering who we are, where we come from.”
“I have... commitments,” I said. “People who rely on me.”
“Your mistress?”
I nodded.
She studied me, her expression thoughtful rather than judging.
“A difficult position,” she acknowledged. “To stand between worlds, belonging fully to neither.”
The words struck deeper than she could have known, echoing my earlier thoughts.
“Loyalty is admirable,” she continued, setting down her cup. “Especially in times when it’s in such short supply. But let me ask you this, Tarshi — to whom are you loyal? Individuals whocare for you, certainly. But what about yourself? What about your people?”
“They’re not mutually exclusive,” I argued, though the events of tonight suggested otherwise.
“Aren’t they?” Suura’s gaze was penetrating. “When was the last time you honoured your own heritage without hiding it behind Imperial doors? When did you last speak our language freely, without lowering your voice? Do you even know our language?”
I didn’t. My mother had told me a little, but after the violence of my childhood, it had never occurred to me to learn about my Talfen side, only to try and conceal it, to live with it. I had cut off half of who I was, because the Empire had told me it was forbidden. My sudden shame must have been apparent on my face, because Suura reached out and laid her hand on my arm.
“Loyalty to those we love is admirable, but sometimes we must also be loyal to ourselves, to our roots.”
She rose and moved to a small chest, retrieving something from within it. When she returned, she placed a small carved token in my palm — a stylized dragon.
“Come back tomorrow evening,” she said. “Show this at the door if I’m not here to welcome you. No pressure, no obligations. Just a chance to remember who you are among others who understand.”
I closed my fingers around the token, feeling its edges press into my palm.
“Think about it,” she added. “That’s all I ask.”
