Page 105 of Realms of Swords and Storms
What struck me most were his eyes—obsidian pools that had always seemed to look through me, into me, as if seeing truths I kept hidden even from myself. Now they surveyed the devastation with a sorrow so profound it transformed his entire countenance. This was not the face of a monster, not the demon I had convinced myself he must be. This was the face of a man bearing wounds far deeper than the broken arm he cradled against his chest—a man who had loved and lost, who had foughtand failed, who had wanted only to build something better from the ashes of oppression.
I had spent years forcing myself to see only his otherness—the scales that sometimes rippled beneath his skin, the inhuman grace of his movements, the power that set him apart from those around him. Now, in this moment of clarity, I saw only Tarshi—beautiful, broken, human in all the ways that truly mattered.
He looked up then, his eyes meeting mine across the devastated expanse between us. Even at this distance, I could see the surprise in his expression, the question. Why had I come back?
And in that moment, with smoke and dust swirling around us, with the scent of blood and fire in the air, with death and destruction on every side, something shifted inside me—a truth I had been fighting for so long finally breaking free, undeniable in its clarity.
I loved him.
The realization struck with the force of a physical blow, stealing my breath, stopping my heart for one suspended moment before it resumed beating with a new, terrifying certainty. I loved Tarshi. Had loved him, perhaps, from the moment I had seen him fight in the arena, his grace and power and fierce determination unlike anything I had ever witnessed.
I had buried that truth beneath layers of fear, of prejudice, of the hatred I had been taught was right and natural. I had convinced myself that what I felt was merely admiration, or desire, or some strange fascination with the exotic, the forbidden.
But it was love. It had always been love. And I had driven him away with my denial, my refusal to acknowledge what we both knew was true.
I remembered his words from earlier, his voice raw with pain and guilt: "I wanted to build a world where we could be different.Where you could touch me without shame. Where you could love me without the pain that goes with it—the knowledge that you never could, never would let yourself love me back. Not really."
He had been right. About all of it. About me, about the world we lived in, about the barriers I had erected between us. And in trying to create a world where I might finally allow myself to love him, he had been manipulated into helping destroy the very world we shared.
Not because of hate, as he believed. But because of love—for me, for Livia, for all those who suffered under imperial rule.
The truth of it broke something open inside me, swept away the last of my resistance. What did it matter now—empire, status, the opinions of people who would always see us as aberrations? What did any of it matter in a world where buildings could be reduced to rubble in an instant, where lives could be snuffed out on the whim of a distant emperor, where tomorrow was promised to no one?
I started toward him, my purpose clear for the first time in longer than I could remember. Fuck the Empire. Fuck everyone who would stand between us. I wanted him. I wanted Livia. I wanted whatever happiness we could carve out of this broken world, for however long we were allowed to have it.
Tarshi saw me coming, his expression shifting from surprise to urgency. "Get out!" he shouted, gesturing toward the edge of the square with his good arm. "I need to check one more building!"
I ignored him, continuing my approach with a single-minded determination that matched his own. He took a step toward me, frustration evident in every line of his body.
"Septimus, please! It's not safe here. Go back to Livia. I'll join you when I'm finished."
"No," I said, the word simple, final. I reached him, close enough now to see the exhaustion in his eyes, the guilt andgrief etched into his face. "No more checking buildings. No more devices. You've done enough, Tarshi."
"I haven't," he insisted, trying to move past me. "I can't leave until I'm sure there are no more—"
I caught him by his good arm, pulling him to me with a force that surprised us both. And then, before he could protest further, before I could reconsider, I kissed him.
His lips were dry, cracked, tasting of blood and ash. He stiffened against me for a moment, shock evident in every line of his body. Then, with a sound that was half sob, half surrender, he melted into the kiss, his uninjured arm coming up to grip my shoulder with a desperation that matched my own.
When we finally broke apart, both breathless, I kept my forehead pressed to his, unwilling to let even that small distance come between us again.
"I love you," I said, the words I had denied for so long finally breaking free. "I love you, and I can't live without you. And if you are a demon, then you can drag me to Inferi with you, as long as we're together."
Tears welled in his eyes, cutting clean tracks through the soot and blood on his face. "You were right about me," he whispered, his voice raw. "I am a monster. I'm not worthy of anyone's love, least of all yours and Livia’s."
"No," I said fiercely, tightening my grip on him. "I was wrong. About everything. It was me who drove you to this—me and my cowardice, my refusal to admit what I felt. I convinced myself I couldn't love you, couldn't allow myself to love you. But I do. I have from the beginning."
He shook his head, disbelief warring with desperate hope in his eyes. "After everything that's happened today? After what I've done?"
"You were manipulated," I said, the truth of it clear to me now. "Not because of hate, but because of love. For me. For Livia.For a world where we could be together without shame, without fear."
A tear slipped down his cheek, and I caught it with my thumb, the gesture more intimate somehow than the kiss we had shared. "It doesn't excuse what happened," he said quietly. "All these people..."
"No," I agreed, unable to lie to him, even to ease his pain. "It doesn't excuse it. But it explains it. And now that we're together, now that we're finally honest with each other, we can make it right. Whatever that looks like, whatever it takes. We'll do it together."
Hope flickered in his eyes, tentative but real. "Together?"
"Together," I confirmed, the word a vow. "You, me, Livia. We'll find a way forward, find some corner of the world where none of this matters—not your blood, not my past, not the Empire's lies."
