Page 83 of Realms of Swords and Storms
"Thank you," she said, squeezing my fingers. The simple touch sent a familiar warmth through me, a reminder of what we had once been to each other. What, in some ways, we still were. "Where's Tarshi now?" I asked, forcing my mind back to the practical matters at hand.
"At a meeting with Kalen and some of the resistance leaders," Livia answered. "They've been closeted together for hours."
I exchanged a glance with Antonius, a silent communication passing between us. It was strange that we hadn't been called to this meeting, especially when we had been included in all previous planning sessions for the demonstration.
"What kind of meeting?" Antonius asked, voicing my unspoken concern.
Livia shrugged, though a small frown creased her brow. "I'm not sure. He was... upset after Septimus left. Said he needed to clear his head. When he came back, he mentioned a meeting with Kalen, but he was vague about the details."
A tendril of unease unfurled in my gut. Tarshi was a good man—I believed that now, despite my initial misgivings about his Talfen heritage. But even good men had their breaking points. And being rejected so violently by someone he cared for...
"You're worried," Livia observed, watching my face with that uncanny perceptiveness that had always been one of her strengths.
"It's probably nothing," I said, not wanting to add to her concerns. "Just... strange that they'd have a meeting without us."
"Kalen and Mira have been unusually secretive lately," Antonius agreed, his normally impassive face troubled. "I thinkthere may be more to tomorrow's plans than they have revealed to us."
Livia's frown deepened. "You think Tarshi might be involved in something dangerous?"
"I think," I said carefully, "that even the best of men can make rash decisions when they're hurting."
She shook her head firmly. "Not Tarshi. He wouldn't do anything stupid."
I wanted to believe her. But I had seen too much of humanity—at its best and at its worst—to be so certain. "He's a good man," I agreed. "But he's still a man. And men can be pushed to extremes, especially when protecting those they love."
"You're wrong," Livia insisted, though doubt flickered in her eyes. "He wouldn't risk everything we've worked for, everything we're fighting for."
I didn't argue further. There was no point in adding to her worries without concrete evidence. And perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps Tarshi was simply discussing some innocuous aspect of tomorrow's demonstration.
"Are the plans finalized for tomorrow?" Livia asked, clearly eager to change the subject.
I nodded. "The festival square will be packed—it always is for the Summer Festival. Members of the resistance, protected by others positioned strategically throughout the crowd, will mount platforms and balconies around the square and address the people directly."
"In front of the Emperor himself," Antonius added, his voice grim with satisfaction. "Let him hear the truth of his rule spoken aloud, for all to witness."
"It's a bold plan," I acknowledged. "But if we succeed, it could change everything. The people need to hear that there are alternatives to the Empire's brutality, that resistance is possible."
Livia nodded, her eyes brightening with renewed purpose. This was what she had been fighting for since I had known her—a chance to strike back at the Empire that had destroyed our village, enslaved us, forced us to kill for sport. A chance for justice, not just vengeance.
"It might be safer," Antonius said carefully, "for you and Octavia to remain away from the festival tomorrow. Just as a precaution."
I shot him a grateful look. I had been thinking the same thing but hadn't known how to suggest it without igniting Livia's stubborn pride.
"I agree," Octavia said quickly. "I can stay with you, Livia. We can wait for news together."
But Livia was already shaking her head, that familiar determination hardening her features. "No. I need to be there. This is too important."
"Livia," I began, but she cut me off with a raised hand.
"The demonstration isn't going to be dangerous for people in the crowd," she insisted. "It's a peaceful protest, remember? And this is important to all of us—to Tarshi, to me, to everyone who dreams of a different kind of world." Her voice softened, a rare vulnerability showing through. "I want a life someday, Marcus. A real life, where I can be with the men I love without fearing they don't come home one night just because of their bloodline."
I couldn't argue with that. It was the future I wanted for her too, even if I wasn't one of those men she would build that life with. I had accepted long ago that Livia's heart was too vast to belong to any one person—it was one of the things that made her who she was, this capacity for loving deeply and without reservation.
"If Livia is going, then I'm coming too," Octavia declared, crossing her arms in a posture that brooked no argument.
"Octavia, no," Livia protested. "It's one thing for me to take the risk, but you—"
"What? I'm just a house slave, so my life matters less?" Octavia challenged, one eyebrow raised.
