Page 81 of Realms of Swords and Storms
Carefully, so as not to wake Livia, I slipped from the bed. I dressed silently in the darkness, my movements precise and controlled. The pain in my chest had solidified into somethingsharp and dangerous—a blade of pure resolve, forged in the fire of Septimus's rejection.
I had been cautious until now, hesitant to commit fully to the resistance's more radical plans. I had held back, worried about the risks, about the potential for civilian casualties, about crossing lines that couldn't be uncrossed. But that caution had gotten me nowhere. Had earned me nothing but this—a man who would rather destroy himself than admit he cared for me, a world that would never accept what I was.
No more. No more half-measures, no more hoping for gradual change. The Empire would never willingly surrender its power, would never stop spreading its poison. If it took blood to create a world where people like me could live without shame, where people like Septimus could love without self-hatred, then so be it. My blood, their blood—it made no difference now.
I paused at the door, looking back at Livia's sleeping form. She believed in a better world, in the possibility of change without wholesale destruction. Part of me ached to wake her, to tell her what I was planning, to seek her counsel. But I knew what she would say. She would urge caution, compassion, would remind me that violence only bred more violence.
And she would be right. But I was tired of being right. Tired of taking the moral high ground while the Empire ground us all to dust beneath its boot.
I slipped out of her quarters, moving through the academy's darkened corridors like a shadow. The night air was cool against my skin as I made my way off the grounds.
The streets were empty at this hour, most of the city's inhabitants long since asleep. I moved quickly, my footsteps silent on the cobblestones, my senses alert for any sign of Imperial patrols. By the time I reached Kalen's door, the eastern sky was beginning to lighten, the first hint of dawn creeping over the horizon.
I knocked, three sharp raps followed by two softer ones—the resistance's signal. There was a long pause, then the sound of a bolt being drawn back. The door opened a crack, Kalen's weathered face appearing in the narrow gap.
"Tarshi?" he said, surprise evident in his voice. "What are you doing here at this hour?"
"I'm in," I said simply, the words falling like stones between us. "Whatever you need me to do for the festival. Whatever it takes. I'm in."
He studied me for a moment, his eyes sharp despite the early hour. Then he nodded, opening the door wider to admit me.
"Come in," he said.
I stepped over the threshold, leaving behind the man I had been—cautious, hopeful, believing in the possibility of peaceful change. That man had died in Livia's chamber, under the weight of Septimus's rejection, under the crushing reality of what the Empire had done to us all.
What remained was harder, colder, capable of things I hadn't allowed myself to contemplate before. As Kalen closed the door behind me, shutting out the growing light of dawn, I felt the last of my hesitation fall away.
The Empire had created this world of hatred and fear. Now they would reap what they had sown.
"What do you need me to do?" I asked, my voice steady and resolved.
Kalen's smile was grim, satisfied. "Something only you can do," he said, leading me deeper into the house. "Something that will change everything."
22
Iknew something was wrong the moment Livia walked through our door. Her face was pale, drawn with exhaustion and an emotion I couldn't immediately place—grief, perhaps, or a deep, soul-weary disappointment. My heart clenched at the sight of her, that protective instinct that had never faded despite all our changes rising instantly to the surface.
"Livia," I said, rising from my chair at the small table where Antonius and I had been discussing the final plans for tomorrow's demonstration. "What's happened?"
She looked up, seeming almost surprised to find Antonius there as well. Her eyes darted between us, then to Octavia, who appeared from the small kitchen area, wiping her hands on a cloth.
"I'm sorry," Livia said, her voice rough as if she'd been crying. "I didn't realize you'd have company. I can come back later—"
"Nonsense," Octavia declared, immediately crossing the room to take Livia's arm. "You look like you're about to collapse. Sit down. I'll make tea."
Livia allowed herself to be guided to a chair, a testament to how shaken she was. Normally, she'd have bristled at being handled, would have insisted she was fine. But today she sank into the offered seat like her legs could no longer support her.
"What happened?" I asked again, taking the chair beside her. Antonius remained where he was, his large frame somehow managing to fade into the background, giving us a semblance of privacy in the small room.
Livia took a deep breath, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Septimus found out about Tarshi and me."
The simple statement hung in the air, heavy with implication. I had known about her relationship with Tarshi for some time now, had made my peace with it. But Septimus... Septimus had always harboured a deep hatred for the Talfen, blamed them for the destruction of our village, for all the suffering that followed. His reaction would have been explosive.
"Was he violent?" I asked, my voice tight with sudden anger. For all my understanding of Septimus's trauma, if he had hurt Livia...
"Not toward me," she said quickly, catching my tone. "He... he tried to hurt Tarshi. He nearly strangled him."
"That bastard," I muttered, fury rising like bile in my throat. I had always considered Septimus a brother, had fought beside him, bled with him. But in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to find him and make him pay for causing Livia pain.
