Page 41 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons
"I can't," I whispered.
"Can't, or won't?"
"Livia—"
She held up a hand, stopping me before I could say more. The gesture was small, but it felt like a door slamming shut in my face. “Don’t,” she said, her voice flat and cold. “Don’t say my name like that. Not anymore.”
She took a step back, putting more distance between us, her face a mask of disappointment that was far worse than any anger. “I thought you were different,” she said, her words quiet but each one a perfectly aimed dart. “I thought you saw the lies for what they were. I guess I was wrong. You’re just like the rest of them, willing to trade your principles for a silver sash and a title. You know what this war is. You know what they plan to do to the Talfen. And you chose this.” She gestured at my uniform, at the authority I wore like a shroud. “You chose them.”
“What about you?” I demanded. “You’re here, wearing your own uniform, ready to fly your own dragon into battle. At least being in command means I can control how things happen. I can make our soldiers act with some kind of humanity.”
“Kill them cleanly, you mean?” Livia glared up at me. “I’ll tell you what’s different about me, Jalend. It’s that I don’t intend to fight against them. In fact, I intend to help them. Somehow. I’m not sure how, and I don’t know if I can do anything, but I’m damn well going to try.”
She turned away from me then, her shoulders rigid. “I follow your orders because I have to, Wing Commander. But don’t ever mistake my obedience for trust. Or for anything else.”
She walked away without another word, back to the warmth of her fire, back to the men who had earned her loyalty. I stood alone in the cold darkness, the space between us an impassable chasm. She was right. I was a liar, a coward, a traitor to everything I claimed to believe in. I had traded my soul to save thousands of lives she would never know about, and in doing so, I had lost the only one that truly mattered. The title on my chest felt like a brand, marking me as the monster I had become.
15
As evening fell, we gathered in the village square for what might be our last night together. Someone had brought out drums, and the ancient rhythms filled the air as families said their goodbyes. Children who were too young to understand what was happening laughed and played between the adults' legs, while their parents watched with hearts full of love and terror.
I found myself thinking of Sirrax, wondering how he was adapting to Academy life. Was he flying free, or was he still trapped in that cursed collar? I pictured him soaring over peaceful fields with Livia on his back, both of them safe and happy. The image brought me comfort and pain in equal measure—comfort that they were far from this war, pain that I might never see them again.
"You're thinking about her," Septimus said, settling beside me on the log where I sat watching the farewell celebration.
“Aren’t you?”
Septimus sighed. “Naturally. With every breath, and every heartbeat. I feel like my soul is missing without her here.”
It was a strange kind of solace, knowing he felt the same gaping wound I did. We were two broken halves of something that had only ever been whole when she was between us. "She's why we have to win," I said finally, my voice rough. "So there's a world for her to come back to."
"For all of them," he agreed, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.
The drums beat on, a steady, relentless pulse that was both a lament and a call to arms. It was the heartbeat of the Talfen people, a sound that spoke of ancient sorrows and unbreakable will. For the first time, I felt it not as a foreign rhythm, but as something that resonated deep in my own blood. Septimus laid a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. "We'll see her again," he said, not as a promise, but as a vow. "Whatever it takes."
I met his gaze, and in the flickering firelight, I saw not a rival, but a brother. "Whatever it takes," I echoed.
As the night deepened, couples slipped away to spend what might be their final hours together in private. I watched them go with a mixture of envy and longing, thinking of the love I'd found with Septimus and how precious it had become to me.
"Come," he said softly, taking my hand. "Let's not waste what time we have."
We walked to our hut in comfortable silence, both lost in thought. Inside, by the light of a single candle, we helped each other out of our gear and weapons. There was nothing hurried or desperate about it—just two people who loved each other taking comfort in closeness.
"Whatever happens tomorrow," Septimus said as we lay together afterward, his arms warm around me, "I want you to know that these weeks with you, with your people—they've been the best of my life. I was living a lie before, Tarshi. A beautiful, comfortable lie that let me sleep at night while people suffered. You and the Talfen showed me what truth looks like. What honour actually means."
I turned in his arms to face him, seeing the candlelight reflected in his dark eyes. "I love you," I said, the words coming easier than they once had. "Whatever comes, I need you to know that."
"I love you too," he replied, and kissed me with a tenderness that made my heart ache.
We didn't sleep much that night. Instead, we held each other and talked in whispers about everything and nothing—memories of our childhoods, dreams for the future we might not live to see, small observations about the people we'd come to care for in this village that had become our temporary home.
Dawn came too soon, painted in shades of red that seemed ominous given what lay ahead. We rose and dressed in silence, the weight of the day settling on our shoulders like a cloak. Outside, the village was already stirring as the volunteers prepared to depart.
The gathering at Ironwood Ridge was unlike anything I'd ever seen. Warriors came from every corner of Talfen territory—mountain clans with their ancient traditions intact, valley farmers who'd taken up arms to defend their crops, nomadic tribes whose entire lives were spent moving between dragon and human form.
There was no formal military hierarchy like the Empire would have imposed. Instead, each group maintained its own identity while contributing to the whole. I saw weapons that ranged from masterwork blades passed down through generations to simple farming tools adapted for war. Some fighters wore armour crafted by legendary smiths, while others made do with leather and determination.
What struck me most was the absence of rigid formations or standardized equipment. Where an Imperial army would have presented uniform ranks of identical soldiers, the Talfengathering looked more like an extended family preparing to defend their home—which, in many ways, it was.
