Page 30 of City of Secrets and Shadows
I grabbed his wrist, tempted to snap it. My blood ran hot — the Talfen side of me stirring, demanding action, violence, dominance. I fought it down, knowing a street brawl would only draw attention we couldn’t afford.
“Release me,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Now.”
“That’s what I thought,” he said with vicious satisfaction, but made no move to step back, our faces inches apart. “You have an agenda. Your kind always does. But you won’t touch her. I’ll be watching. One wrong move toward Livia—”
“You’ll what?” I challenged.
“I killed Talfen in the arena before you arrived. I wouldn’t lose sleep over adding more demon blood to my hands. Now, this discussion is finished.” He finally released me and stepped back, his breathing uneven as he straightened his clothing with more attention than necessary. Something unspoken lingered in the air between us, dangerous and electric.
He turned and stalked away, disappearing into the crowd before I could respond. I watched him go, rubbing my throat where his fingers had pressed, my blood still hot with anger, my body fizzing with adrenaline.
The man was right about one thing — I did want Livia. More than he could possibly understand. But what burned between us wasn’t the simple lust he imagined, and I wasn’t about to let him get in the way of it. I wanted to go after him. To drag him into some quiet alley and beat submission into him. To slam his body against the wall, to wrap my hands around his throat and watch him beg me for my mercy, to feel him submit to me…
I inhaled sharply, startled by the intensity of my thoughts. The violence I expected, but there was something else there — something I hadn’t anticipated. Something I didn’t want to examine too closely.
The image of Septimus pinned against the wall lingered, transforming into something that wasn’t entirely about dominance or rage. I took several deep breaths, willing my blood to cool.
It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Septimus was in love with Livia. Not that I could blame him — she inspired devotion in most who knew her. But that made three of us now caught in her orbit: Marcus, Septimus, and myself. The thought made me laugh bitterly as I started walking again. As if she would ever choose me when she had options like Marcus or Septimus. Yet I hoped she would choose Marcus if she chose anyone. For all his arrogance, Marcus was direct and honest. Septimus was something else — calculating and controlling. He was toxic.
With a final glance in the direction he’d disappeared, I turned toward the academy. The crowds thickened as I moved through the market district, the noise and press of bodies a welcome distraction from my troubled thoughts. Vendors hawked their wares, the scents of spiced meat and sweet pastries mingling in the air. I purchased a small loaf of bread, tearing into it as I walked. Food always helped quiet the restless energy that sometimes overwhelmed me.
The city streets grew more crowded as morning advanced, forcing me to be more aware of my surroundings. I was accustomed to the reactions my appearance provoked — the sideways glances, the subtle steering of children away from my path, the whispered comments.
What surprised me was whatdidn’thappen. No one shouted slurs. No one demanded I leave their sight. No shopkeeper refused me passage before their establishment. There waswariness, yes, and that familiar distrust, but not the open hostility I’d grown accustomed to in the provinces.
A woman pulled her young son closer as I passed, but she nodded politely rather than spitting at my feet. A merchant watched me carefully but did not immediately cover his wares as if I might steal them. It was... strange.
Then, at a crowded intersection, I saw him — another half-breed. He was older, his hair as white as my own, styled into tight braids along his skull that loosened about his shoulders, but the mixed heritage was unmistakable in his features. He wore the attire of a skilled craftsman, not a slave or servant, and moved with the confidence of someone who belonged.
Our eyes met across the busy street. He nodded to me — a simple acknowledgment between kindred spirits. I was too surprised to respond before the crowd separated us again.
The encounter left me unsettled. I’d never considered that life might be different for half-breeds in the capital. The provinces treated us as barely above animals, but here... here it seemed possible to exist without constant degradation. It wasn’t acceptance, but it was something close to tolerance.
I made my way through the winding streets, following the route we’d memorized. The deeper I ventured into the noble district, the more ornate the buildings became — white marble colonnades, gilded domes catching sunlight, intricate mosaics depicting ancient battles and mythical beasts. Guards in polished armour stood at attention outside various estates, their faces impassive beneath plumed helmets.
The Dragon Elite Academy rose above it all, perched on the highest hill in the capital. Its spires reached toward the heavens, and massive statues of dragons flanked the main gates. Even from a distance, I could see the grounds bustling with activity — servants rushing about, nobles arriving in elaborately decorated carriages, and above it all, dragons circling lazily in the clear sky.Behind it all rose an arena that dwarfed any I had seen before. Stone seating rose in tiers that could accommodate thousands, all centred on a fighting ground big enough for multiple dragons to manoeuvre.
People streamed toward the academy from all directions — nobles in fine clothing, citizens in their best attire, vendors selling refreshments and trinkets. The trials of the Dragon Elite were clearly a spectacle for the masses as well as a serious evaluation.
I joined the crowd heading for the public entrance to the arena, paying the small fee required of common citizens. My coin bought me standing room in the upper tiers, far from the action but with a view of the entire grounds. The privileged classes occupied the lower seats, their colourful clothing creating a tapestry of wealth and status.
From my position, I scanned the crowd for Septimus but couldn’t locate him among the thousands of spectators. He had probably secured a better position through his connections — somewhere appropriate for a high-ranking servant of a noble house.
The arena floor was already occupied. Young nobles had assembled in their finery, arranged in what appeared to be house groupings. Imperial troops stood to attention around the perimeter, while older men and women in formal academic regalia — the imperial legates who ran the institution — observed from a raised platform.
My attention was drawn to three dragons already present on the field—one emerald green, one blue-grey, and one the colour of burnished bronze. All were impressive beasts, but I noted with satisfaction that each was noticeably smaller than Sirrax. Their riders stood nearby, clearly proud of their mounts and the advantage they represented.
A fanfare of trumpets silenced the crowd. All eyes turned to an elaborate box draped with imperial purple and gold. A collective intake of breath was followed by thunderous cheering as the Emperor himself entered, accompanied by his personal guard.
From my distant position, I could make out little more than a figure in imperial regalia — a man of average height with dark hair, his face too far away to discern features. He acknowledged the crowd with a practiced wave before taking his seat. Three of the academy legates immediately approached the imperial box, bowing deeply before engaging in what appeared to be formal conversation.
Suddenly, a shadow passed overhead, momentarily dimming the bright morning. A murmur spread through the crowd like a wave, growing louder as all eyes turned skyward.
Sirrax’s massive form circled above, wings extended, sunlight gleaming off his ebony scales. He was magnificent — power and grace combined in a creature of legend. And atop him, tiny but confident, sat Livia.
She guided Sirrax in a descending spiral, allowing everyone to appreciate the dragon’s size and beauty. As they neared the ground, Sirrax’s wings created gusts that stirred dust and fluttered banners. He landed with surprising delicacy at the centre of the arena, his claws touching down with precision that spoke of both his intelligence and Livia’s skill.
The crowd erupted in cheers and exclamations. Even from my distant position, I could see the other noble candidates’ reactions — a mixture of awe, envy, and resentment. The three existing dragon riders seemed particularly displeased, their mounts suddenly diminished by comparison.
