Page 24 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
I took a deep breath, trying to rein in my emotions. The mate bond made lying to him nearly impossible, but I could still choose my words carefully.
The accusation struck deeper than I wanted to admit. I knew what breaking the mate bond would do to him—how it would leave him vulnerable to the darkness that already whispered at the edges of his consciousness. But I couldn't bear the thought of remaining passive, decorative, useless.
"I see a life without meaning," I said finally. "I was a fighter, Taveth. A gladiator, yes, but also someone who fought for a cause greater than myself. Now I'm..." I gestured at my expensive clothing, the jewels that adorned my wrists and throat. "Now I'm decorative. Useless."
"You are far from useless, Aeveth. You are the only thing keeping the darkness at bay."
His words hung between us, heavy with a truth I hadn't fully acknowledged. The mate bond wasn't just about possession or control—it was keeping him sane, keeping the shadows from consuming what remained of the man.
"I didn't ask for this responsibility," I said quietly. "To be your anchor against the darkness."
Taveth's expression softened slightly. "Neither did I ask to be shadow-touched. We don't always choose our burdens, Aeveth."
I turned away from him, walking to the edge of one of the garden pools. My reflection stared back at me, adorned and beautiful but hollow-eyed. The woman I saw there was astranger—dressed in finery, her hair arranged in the Talfen style, her neck heavy with beads that concealed the truth of who she was and who she belonged to.
"I can't live like this," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "I'll go mad."
I felt him approach, his footsteps nearly silent on the stone path. The shadows around him had calmed somewhat, no longer writhing with malevolent intent but still present, still watching.
"Then tell me what you need," he said, his voice carefully controlled. "Not what Aytara needs, or what I need. What do you need to feel whole again?"
The question caught me off guard. In all our time together, he had never asked me that directly. He had given me what he thought I should want—luxury, protection, physical pleasure - but none of it mattered.
“I need them,” I whispered.
"The men you left behind. You loved them."
Again, lying seemed pointless. "Yes."
"More than you could ever love me."
The certainty in his voice broke my heart, because it was probably true and we both knew it. The bond I shared with Marcus, Sirrax, Septimus, Antonius, Jalend and Tarshi was deep, and undeniable.
"Love isn't a competition," I said gently. "There are different kinds, different depths. What I feel for you is real, even if it's different from what I felt for them."
"But if they were still alive, if they came for you, you would choose them over me."
I wanted to deny it, to reassure him that his fears were groundless. But we both deserved better than comfortable lies.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "I hope I will never be forced to make that choice."
He smiled, but there was no humour in the expression. "So do I," he said quietly. "Because I'm not sure I could let them take you away, and I would hate to see you cry when I tore them apart.”
9
The walk back to our chambers felt interminable, each step echoing through corridors that seemed to press closer with every breath. Beside me, Livia moved with the fluid grace of a trained warrior, but I could feel the anger radiating from her like heat from a forge. The shadows that perpetually danced at the edges of my vision writhed with anticipation, feeding on the tension between us.
She defies you,they whispered, their voices like silk drawn across steel.She speaks of leaving, of choosing others over you. Show her who commands here.
The heavy wooden door to our apartments closed behind us with a finality that seemed to echo through my bones. Livia spun to face me the moment we were alone, her eyes blazing with a fury that made my blood sing even as it cut me to the bone.
"How dare you," she snarled, and there was nothing submissive about her posture now. This was the gladiator who had killed for her freedom, the woman who had infiltrated the heart of the Empire itself. "How dare you threaten them."
"I threatened no one," I said, though we both knew it was a lie.
"'I would hate to see you cry when I tore them apart,'" she quoted back to me, her voice dripping with contempt. "That wasn't a threat?”
“A promise. A necessity.”
