Page 82 of Realms of Swords and Storms
"It's more complicated than that," Livia continued, her eyes dropping to her clasped hands. "There's something else. Something I didn't know until recently." She paused, seeming to gather her strength. "Septimus and Tarshi have been... involved. For months."
I stared at her, certain I had misheard. "Involved? You mean they've been fighting?"
She shook her head, a small, sad smile touching her lips at my deliberate obtuseness. "No, Marcus. Involved. Romantically. Sexually."
My mind reeled, trying to process this information. Septimus—who had spent years voicing his disgust for the Talfen, who had warned Livia repeatedly about the "taint" of Tarshi's blood—had been secretly sleeping with him? It was beyond comprehension.
"That's... that's impossible," I stammered. "Septimus hates the Talfen. He's never made any secret of it."
"Apparently, hate and desire aren't mutually exclusive," Livia said bitterly. "He's been sleeping with Tarshi in secret while publicly treating him like something less than human."
Octavia returned with a steaming mug of tea, which she pressed into Livia's hands. "Men," she said, with such profound disgust that despite everything, I almost smiled. "No offense, Marcus, Antonius."
"None taken," Antonius rumbled from his corner. His face was thoughtful, but not shocked, as if this revelation aligned with observations he had already made.
Octavia settled herself on a stool near Livia, one hand resting on her knee in silent support. I was struck once again by the friendship that had developed between them—Octavia, the quiet, competent former house slave, and Livia, the fierce gladiator who had never quite learned how to be anything else. They had found in each other something neither had known they needed: a female ally in a world dominated by men and violence.
"How did you find out?" I asked Livia, still struggling to wrap my mind around this revelation.
A flush rose to her cheeks. "Septimus walked in on Tarshi and me. Together."
"Oh," I said, understanding dawning. "Oh."
Livia took a sip of her tea, her hands steady despite everything. "It was... bad. He was horrified, disgusted. He tried to kill Tarshi. When I stopped him, he turned on me, called me..." She trailed off, the words apparently too painful to repeat.
Fury rose in me again, hot and clarifying. "I'll kill him," I said, half-rising from my chair.
"No," Livia said sharply, her hand shooting out to grip my wrist. "No, Marcus. That's not why I came to you."
I subsided, though the anger still burned in my chest. "Then why?"
"Because I'm worried about him," she admitted, her voice softening. "He stormed out, and he was... he wasn't himself. I'm afraid he'll do something stupid."
Of course. Even after everything, Livia still cared for Septimus. Still worried for his safety. It was one of the things I had always loved about her—her capacity for compassion, even toward those who had wounded her.
"Forgive me," Antonius spoke up, his deep voice gentle despite its natural rumble. "But I do not understand. You are concerned for the man who tried to kill your lover and called you terrible things?"
Livia's eyes flicked to him, and I saw the momentary fear there—fear that this huge northerner, whose friendship she had only recently begun to cultivate, would judge her harshly for her relationships, for her choices.
But Antonius's face held nothing but genuine curiosity and concern. "In my homeland," he continued, seeming to sense her unease, "we do not share the Empire's fear of the Talfen. We traded with them, sometimes even married them. The idea that their blood is tainted... this is an Imperial teaching, not a universal truth."
The tension in Livia's shoulders eased slightly. "It's complicated," she said, echoing her earlier words. "Septimus has suffered greatly because of Imperial actions, but he was raised to blame the Talfen. It's easier for him, I think, to direct his hatred toward them rather than admit that humans—his own kind—could commit such atrocities without demonic influence."
Antonius nodded, his massive hand wrapped almost comically around his own mug of tea. "Fear and hatred are powerful blindfolds. They allow a man to see only what he can bear to see."
"He'll have to remove those blindfolds eventually," Octavia said firmly, squeezing Livia's knee. "Septimus is an idiot. A blind, stubborn idiot." Her voice softened slightly. "But he's not evil. Just damaged. Like the rest of us."
Livia smiled at her, a genuine if tremulous expression. "When did you become so wise?"
"I've always been wise," Octavia retorted, tossing her head with mock arrogance. "You were just too busy stabbing things to notice."
Their laughter, though brief, lightened the heavy atmosphere. I watched them, feeling a surge of gratitude for Octavia's presence in our lives. She had a way of cutting through the drama, of stating simple truths that the rest of us, caught up in our own complexities, often missed.
"Look, I’ll admit, when you told me about you and Tarshi, I was shocked. I really struggled with the idea, but when I really started to look, even I could see how much Tarshi adores you," Octavia continued, more seriously. "And that he’s a good man. If I—who was raised in the heart of the Empire, surrounded by all its propaganda—can change my opinion of the Talfen, then Septimus can too. Eventually."
"I hope you're right," Livia said, though doubt lingered in her eyes. "But in the meantime, I'm worried about him. He left, and I don't know where he went."
"I'll find him," I promised, reaching over to take her hand. "I'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
