Page 21 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
"Centuries of it," Taveth confirmed, and for the first time in days, I heard genuine pleasure in his voice. "Each generation of shadow mages has contributed something to this place. We call it Kythveleth, the Garden of Souls."
I could believe it. Despite the darkness that permeated the temple, despite the wrongness I felt pressing against my consciousness in the corridors below, this place felt pure. Clean. The shadows here were natural ones, cast by leaves and branches rather than conjured from some deeper darkness, and they danced with life rather than writhing with malevolent intent.
We walked the paths in comfortable silence, my mood lifting for the first time in days as I absorbed the beauty around us. Taveth seemed more relaxed as well, the careful control he maintained over himself easing as we moved through this sanctuary he had brought me to share.
It was near a pool where lilies bloomed in impossible shades of blue and purple that we encountered someone else enjoying the garden's peace. She was an older woman, though not elderly, with the kind of presence that immediately commanded attention. Her hair was silver-white and braided with what looked like small bones and carved stones, her clothing simple but made from materials that spoke of high quality and careful craftsmanship. But it was her eyes that captured me—dark as the depths of the mountain, intelligent and calculating in a way that suggested she saw far more than she revealed.
"Aytara," Taveth said, and there was warmth in his voice that I had never heard before. Not the heat of desire that coloured his words when he spoke to me, but something deeper and more familial. "I didn't expect to find you here."
"I needed somewhere peaceful to think," she replied, her gaze moving to me with an intensity that made me want to step closer to Taveth's protective presence. "And you must be the Imperial woman I've heard so much about."
There was no hostility in her tone, but there was no warmth either. This was clearly someone accustomed to measuring people and finding them wanting, and I had the distinct impression that I was being weighed in balances I couldn't see.
"Livia," I said, offering a respectful nod rather than the full bow that Imperial protocol would have demanded when meeting someone of obvious authority. Something told me that showing too much deference would be seen as weakness rather than proper respect.
"Indeed." She moved closer, circling me like a predator evaluating prey. "Tell me, Livia, what do you think of our city?"
It was clearly a test of some kind, though I wasn't sure what answer she was looking for. Honesty seemed like the safest choice, even if it might not be the most flattering.
"It's beautiful," I said honestly. "More sophisticated and advanced than anything I was taught to expect. The Empire spreads many lies about the people beyond its borders."
Something flickered in those dark eyes—surprise, perhaps, or approval. "And what lies might those be?"
"That you're barbarians living in caves. That you raid and pillage because you're too primitive to build anything of your own. That you worship dark gods and practice human sacrifice." I gestured toward the impossible garden around us. "Anyone with eyes can see how false those claims are."
"Yet you served that same Empire faithfully, did you not?" The question was delivered with casual precision, but I could feel the trap hidden within it.
My temper flared at the assumption, and I saw Taveth tense beside me as the shadows around him began to writhe in response to my emotional spike. But I forced myself to remain calm, to think before I spoke.
"I was never given a choice in my service," I said carefully. "I was taken as a slave when I was a child, sold to my master who was my world from then on. Everything I did in the Empire was done under threat of death or worse."
"A slave." She said the word thoughtfully, as if testing its weight. "How convenient. And what masters did you serve?"
I hesitated, unsure how much of my story was safe to reveal. But something in her expression suggested that half-truths would be more dangerous than honesty.
"One only. I was hired as a house slave when I was young, for a small arena in a border city. As I got older my duties became more physical." Taveth growled low in his throat, and I felt the temperature around us drop several degrees as shadows began to gather at his feet. This was exactly the kind of conversation that triggered his worst episodes, and I could see the wildness beginning to flicker behind his eyes.
I reached for his hand, feeling some of the tension ease as our skin made contact; a gesture Aytara noticed, though she said nothing.
“When I was old enough, I persuaded my master to allow me to train as a gladiator, which I did until I was lucky to escape during a raid by your people. For that, you have my deepest gratitude.”
Aytara's eyes narrowed as she studied me. "A gladiator. That explains the way you move. I noticed it immediately—the awareness, the constant readiness. Those aren't traits one finds in ordinary house slaves.
And yet you fought as a dragon rider, a noble woman controlling her own slave, in the battle Taveth took you from.”
This was the moment of truth, I realized. Whatever test she was conducting had led to this question, and my answer would determine whether I passed or failed.
"I was part of a resistance movement," I said, lifting my chin with what I hoped looked like pride rather than defiance. "A group working to undermine Imperial authority from within. We provided information to enemies of the Empire, helped slaves escape, sabotaged military supplies. I posed as a noble to infiltrate the Academy."
The silence that followed was deafening. I could hear water flowing over stones, wind rustling through impossible leaves, the distant cry of some bird I couldn't identify. But from the two people standing before me came nothing—no sound, no movement, no indication of what they thought of my revelation.
“I see. And what exactly, did a position at the academy allow you to do, other than torture one of our own?”
The condescension in her tone ignited something fierce in my chest, burning away the careful deference I had been maintaining. “It would have allowed me to get closer to the Emperor himself. And I never tortured any of your people,Aytara.”She snorted. “You rode a dragon like a mere beast of burden, a cruel treatment of one of our most revered citizens. Belittled and humiliated them just to-”
“Sirrax was never just a beast to me, even before I knew what dragons are,” I snapped.
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