Page 38 of Realms of Swords and Storms
Tarshi's lips pressed against my hair, a gentle pressure. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "But I do know that you're more than what you've done. More than what was done to you. And whatever demons haunt your dreams, you don't have to face them alone."
His words weren't a magical solution, but they were a comfort nonetheless. The weight of Arilius's death would likely neverleave me entirely, but perhaps with time, with love, it would become bearable.
As sleep began to claim me, Tarshi's steady heartbeat against my back, his breath warm against my neck, I realized that whatever path I chose—vengeance or something else entirely—I wouldn't have to walk it alone. And perhaps that made all the difference.
For the first time in weeks, I slept without dreaming of blood.
10
Iwatched the dust motes dance in the spears of sunlight that streamed in from the high windows of the classroom as Professor Taminus lectured us on dragon anatomy. Vivid murals depicting ancient aerial battles coloured the plaster walls of the classroom —imperial dragons soaring triumphant over barbarian forces, rendered in rich ochres, deep blues, and gold leaf that caught the afternoon light streaming through the high windows. Around the perimeter, my fellow students and I sat cross-legged on embroidered cushions, backs against the painted walls, wax tablets balanced on our knees. Some were diligently scratching notes with their styluses; others gazed at Taminus as he paced the mosaic floor at the centre, gesturing at a suspended dragon skeleton that rotated slowly above a brass mechanism. My mind, however, kept drifting back to the stables, to Livia's lips on mine, her body pressed against me, the soft sounds she made when I touched her. I'd replayed the moment a thousand times since yesterday—the way her resistance hadmelted, how perfectly we'd fit together, the look in her eyes when she'd finally pulled away.
"Lord Northreach," Professor Taminus's sharp voice cut through my daydream. "Perhaps you'd care to enlighten us about the relationship between wing musculature and diving capability?"
I straightened on my cushion, aware of several students glancing my way with barely concealed smirks. "The pectoralis minor muscles control the upstroke of the wing, while the pectoralis major handles the downstroke. In a dive, the balance between these determines how quickly a dragon can pull out of the descent."
Professor Taminus's eyebrows rose slightly. "Correct. Though I'm surprised you heard the question, given your apparent fascination with the wall."
A few students snickered. I managed a polite smile. "Apologies, Professor. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't." He turned back to the anatomical diagram on the slate board. "Now, as Lord Northreach correctly stated..."
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to take notes as Taminus continued. I couldn't afford to be caught daydreaming like a lovesick boy.
But gods, that's exactly what I was.
When the lecture finally ended, I gathered my materials quickly, hoping to catch Livia before her next class. I'd barely seen her since our encounter—just that brief, tense conversation in the corridor where she'd insisted nothing could happen between us. But the way she'd looked at me told a different story than her words.
I spotted her in the crowded hallway, her dark hair swept back in a simple braid, her shoulders straight and proud as always. Something about the way she carried herself set her apart fromthe other students—a quiet dignity that hinted at a life lived beyond the sheltered walls of noble houses. I quickened my pace to catch up with her.
"Livia," I said, falling into step beside her.
She glanced at me, surprise flickering across her features before she schooled her expression. "Lord Northreach."
"Jalend," I corrected. "After yesterday, I think we're well past formalities."
A flush rose to her cheeks. "We shouldn't discuss that here."
I looked around at the throng of students moving between classes. "You're right. Can we talk somewhere private?"
She hesitated, adjusting the books in her arms. "I have combat training in ten minutes."
"After, then? Please, Livia." I knew I sounded too eager, too insistent, but I couldn't help myself. "Just a few minutes."
She bit her lower lip, and the gesture sent a surge of heat through me as I remembered the taste of that lip between my own. "I don't think that's wise," she said finally.
"Why not?" I moved closer, lowering my voice. "Because you're afraid of what might happen if we're alone again?"
Her eyes flashed with something—anger, desire, I couldn't tell which. "Because there's no point. As I told you yesterday, we come from different worlds."
"I don't care about that."
"You should." Her voice was sharp. "Your father would care. The Imperial Council would care."
"My father isn't here," I said. "Neither is the Council. It's just you and me, Livia."
She looked up at me, her expression softening slightly. "It's never just you and me, Jalend. Your position, your responsibilities—they're always with you."
"So are yours," I countered. "You think I don't see the weight you carry? Whatever it is, whatever secrets you're keeping—"
