Page 20 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
Ten days had passed since Taveth had claimed me as his mate, and in that time, my world had shifted in ways I was still struggling to comprehend. The modest dwelling where he had first brought me was now a memory, replaced by apartments within the temple complex that spoke of wealth and status I had never truly experienced, even during my months masquerading as nobility in the Imperial capital.
The rooms were carved directly from the volcanic stone of the mountain, their walls polished to a mirror-like finish that reflected the dancing flames of countless candles. Tapestries woven from fine wool and precious metals depicted scenes I was only beginning to understand—shadow mages wielding darkness like living weapons, ancient battles between the dragon Talfen and forces I couldn't identify, ceremonies conducted beneath star-filled skies. The furniture was crafted from rare woods and draped with furs so soft they felt like silk beneath my fingers. Even the chamber pot was made of polished silver, inlaid with designs that seemed to shift and move in the flickering light.
It was luxury beyond anything I had ever imagined, and it felt like the most beautiful prison in the world.
Taveth had explained the move with careful words, his hands gentle as they traced the metal bangles, he had given me that first night in the city—thick bands of dark iron that reminded me disturbingly of the dragon collars I had seen in the Imperial capital, though I tried not to dwell on that comparison.
"I needed to sleep away from the temple before now. That was why I had the small dwelling I brought you to. The darkness is stronger here," he had said, his voice carrying that edge it always held when discussing his magic. "In the temple, where the shadows have pooled for centuries. But with you beside me, I feel... clearer. Stronger. The whispers are quieter when you're near."
I was beginning to understand what he meant. In our first dwelling, I had occasionally caught glimpses of something wild and untamed flickering behind his eyes, especially when anger took hold. The shadows around him would writhe and pulse with their own malevolent life, and his touch would carry a chill that had nothing to do with temperature. But when I reached for him, when our skin met, I could feel something ease in him. The darkness would pull back like a tide retreating from shore, and the man I was growing to care for would emerge from whatever internal battle he fought.
The scars on my throat and collarbone—reminders of my other two mates and their claim on me—seemed to trigger the worst of his episodes. I had learned to wear the layered necklaces favoured by Talfen women, wooden and bone beads that Taveth had commissioned from the finest craftsmen in the city. The weight of them against my skin was a constant reminder of the careful balance I was trying to maintain, keeping my past hidden while navigating this dangerous present.
The temple itself was a labyrinth of corridors and chambers that seemed to shift and change depending on the light. During the day, when sunlight filtered through carefully placed windows and skylights, it felt like any other place of worship—sacred, yes, but fundamentally safe. As evening approached and the shadows lengthened, however, something else awakened in the stone around us. The darkness felt alive, pressing against my skin like curious fingers, whispering words I couldn't quite understand but that made my bones ache with wrongness. Sometimes I woke from dark twisted dreams, convinced I could hear screaming coming from the very depth of the earth beneath us, and in those lonely, horrifying moments, I cried silently for the strength of Marcus and Antonius, imagining their strong bodies either side, protecting me from the evil I could feel in this place.
Taveth had made it clear that I was not to wander alone, and after my first solo attempt to explore had left me lost and nearly paralyzed with fear as the shadows seemed to reach for me with grasping tendrils, I had no desire to disobey that particular rule. The few other shadow mages moved through the corridors—mostly young men and women still learning to channel their power. They regarded me with curious respect, bowing their heads when they passed but keeping their distance. The few who possessed strength comparable to Taveth's were away from the temple, serving with warrior bands that protected the Talfen borders from Imperial incursions.
It should have been enough. The luxury, the status, the clear devotion of a man who possessed both power and position within his society. Taveth brought me gifts daily—jewelled combs for my hair, silk scarves in colours that complemented my complexion, delicate chains that caught the light like captured starfire. He took me to the markets where merchants competedfor the honour of serving the High Shadow's mate, pressing their finest wares upon us with desperate enthusiasm.
The clothing alone should have satisfied any woman. Gone were the rough homespun garments of my slavery and the carefully calculated costumes of my time in the Imperial capital. Now I wore soft leather tunics dyed in rich blues and purples, the softest wool leggings that fit like a second skin, and cloaks lined with fur from creatures I couldn't identify. Silver bangles chimed softly on my wrists with every movement, and the elaborate beadwork that decorated my clothing marked me as belonging to someone of significant importance.
But beneath the surface luxury, a terrible emptiness gnawed at my soul like a cancer. Where once I had felt the warm, constant presence of my bonds with Sirrax, and Tarshi, now there was only a void that seemed to grow larger with each passing day. I told myself they were simply too far away, that distance was weakening our connection, but deep in my heart I feared a darker truth. The battle had been chaotic and violent, and I had seen Sirrax fall into the carnage below, wounded and alone. Tarshi, I had no idea if he had returned after the initial attack and joined in the battle. Maybe he was dead too. Maybe I would never know.
The depression that followed this realization was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I had known loss before—my parents, my brother, my freedom, my innocence—but this was different. This was the slow poison of hope dying by degrees, leaving me hollow and brittle as a bird's bone. I found myself staring at walls for hours, picking at meals that tasted like ash, starting awake from nightmares where I searched endlessly through corridors that led nowhere while voices I loved called my name from rooms I could never find.
Taveth noticed, of course. How could he not? He tried to help in the only ways he knew how—more gifts, more luxury, moreintense physical attention that left my body satisfied but my soul still aching. His own frustration was evident in the way the shadows around him darkened and writhed when he thought I wasn't looking, in the careful control he maintained over his voice when asking what he could do to make me happy.
"I don't understand," he said one evening as we lay tangled together in his massive bed, my head pillowed on his chest while his fingers traced patterns on my bare shoulder. "You have everything a woman could want. Status, comfort, protection. You're mate to one of the most powerful men in our society. What more could you possibly need?"
How could I explain that what I needed was the impossible? That I would trade all his gifts for just one moment of feeling Marcus' and Antonius’ steady presence by my side, or Sirrax's fierce protectiveness burning in my chest, or Tarshi's quiet wisdom flowing through our bond like a gentle stream? For an hour talking politics with Jalend over a cup of wine? For a bout of sparring with Septimus as he teased me? How could I tell him that every luxury he provided only emphasized what I had lost? I couldn’t. He would just get angry again.
"I'm grateful," I said instead, which was true as far as it went. "You've been generous beyond measure. It's just... difficult to adjust to so much change so quickly."
His arms tightened around me, and I felt the shadows pull back from his skin where we touched. "Time will help," he said, though something in his voice suggested he was trying to convince himself as much as me. "You'll see. This will become home, and the pain of whatever you've lost will fade."
But I didn't want the pain to fade. It was the only connection I had left to the men who had claimed my heart completely. To let it go would be to let them go, and I wasn't ready for that kind of surrender.I woke one morning to find Taveth already up. I watched him from the bed, enjoying the view of his taut musclesstretching as he dressed himself. I stretched beneath the furs, feeling the pleasant ache in my muscles from our lovemaking the night before. My body had grown accustomed to his touch, even craved it, but the hollow feeling in my chest remained.
He turned at my movement, and looked down at me, his white hair loose around his shoulders in a way that still made my breath catch despite everything. His gaze was serious as always, but calm. The shadows were silent this morning and I was thankful.
"There's a place I want to show you," he said, his expression almost shy. "Somewhere beautiful and peaceful. Perhaps it will help lift your spirits. Will you come?"
I agreed because I could see how much my unhappiness was affecting him, and because I was desperate for any distraction from the gnawing emptiness inside me.
I dressed slowly in a deep blue tunic that fell to mid-thigh, cinched at the waist with a belt of intricately carved silver links. The necklaces went on next, layer upon layer of wooden and bone beads carefully arranged to hide the scars that marked me as belonging to others. The weight of them felt like a confession and a lie all at once.
We walked through the temple corridors, Taveth's hand resting possessively at the small of my back. The few acolytes we passed bowed deeply, their eyes carefully averted. I had learned that most avoided looking directly at me, as if my Imperial blood might somehow contaminate them through mere eye contact.
"Where are we going?" I asked as we climbed a narrow staircase I hadn't seen before.
"The High Gardens," Taveth replied. “I think it will help. The shadows do not flow there.”
He led me through corridors I hadn't seen before, up flights of stairs carved directly into the mountain's stone, until we emerged into a space that stole my breath.
The garden was impossible. That was my first thought as I stared in wonder at the terraced levels of growing things that should never have been able to survive at this altitude and in this climate. Trees from tropical regions grew alongside mountain pines, their branches intertwining in defiance of natural law. Flowers in every colour imaginable carpeted the ground between carefully maintained paths, their scents mingling in combinations that made my head spin with their complexity.
Water flowed everywhere—cascading down artificial waterfalls, bubbling up from hidden springs, pooling in basins carved from what looked like single pieces of crystal. The sound was soothing and constant, a counterpoint to the whisper of wind through leaves that rustled with more music than seemed physically possible.
"How is this real?" I asked, reaching out to touch a rose that glowed with its own inner light. "Magic?"
