Page 44 of City of Secrets and Shadows
Every eye tracked his movement as he surveyed the room. At the table closest to the dais, several young nobles fromprominent houses shifted to make space, their expectant expressions making it clear they’d deliberately saved him a place. Yet after acknowledging them with a slight nod, Jalend continued past their table.
And the next.
And the next.
Whispers followed his progress as he moved through the room until, to my astonishment, he stopped at our table — the furthest from the centre of power — and took the empty seat directly across from me.
“Is this place taken?” he asked, though he was already settling into the chair.
“No,” I answered, catching the startled glances of the provincial nobles sharing our table.
Without further comment, Jalend signalled a servant who hurried over with considerably more haste than any had shown our table previously. The servant poured wine and offered the first course while Jalend, to my further amazement, withdrew a small leather-bound book from within his formal attire and opened it, beginning to read and ignoring the rest of us.The baron’s son from Estermont, seated to my right, leaned forward eagerly. “Lord Jalend, what an unexpected pleasure. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced — my father holds lands near the southern border of Estermont. Perhaps you know of the Valerius estate?”
Jalend’s gaze lifted briefly from his plate. “I’m afraid I don’t,” he replied with a polite but distant smile that suggested further conversation would be unwelcome. “My family’s holdings are quite remote.”
The baron’s son faltered, clearly unsure how to respond to someone who showed so little interest in the usual social dance. “Ah... well, it’s a modest holding, to be sure...”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling as the man’s words trailed off awkwardly. The other provincial nobles exchanged glances, visibly reassessing this strange newcomer who had chosen our table yet seemed to have no interest in building alliances among us.
As the first course was cleared away, Jalend continued to read, apparently unconcerned with the social norms he was flagrantly violating. I studied him covertly while pretending to focus on my food. What game was he playing by choosing our table? Was it a deliberate insult to the other noble candidates? Or something else entirely?
“I quite look forward to tomorrow’s water trials,” remarked the merchant’s daughter seated across and along from me, her voice pitched to carry just a bit too far. “The afternoon sun will make for such a lovely spectacle. All those fine physiques glistening in the light.” She tittered behind her hand, glancing sideways at Jalend as if hoping to draw his attention.
“The scheduling seems poorly conceived to me,” I countered, finding her shallow assessment irritating. “Holding endurance tests in the afternoon sun rather than the cooler morning hours will test heat tolerance more than swimming skill.”
I hadn’t expected a response, least of all from Jalend, who had appeared wholly absorbed in his reading. Yet he closed his book, keeping one finger between the pages to mark his place.
“An astute observation,” he said. “Perhaps the purpose is precisely that — to assess how candidates perform when multiple physical stressors are combined. The battlefield rarely presents ideal conditions.”
I considered this. “True, but wouldn’t a more realistic assessment incorporate unpredictable elements? By scheduling the trial at the hottest part of the day, they’ve simply replaced one known variable with another.”
A flicker of interest crossed his features. “You suggest randomizing the conditions? Interesting. Though it raises the question of whether we’re testing adaptability or specific skills.” He tilted his head slightly. “If survival depends on your ability to swim across a river, it matters little whether you can adapt to unpredictable circumstances if you simply lack the necessary strength to fight the current.”
“But surely the essence of adaptability is finding alternative approaches when the obvious solution isn’t viable,” I countered. “The strongest swimmer might drown if they insist on crossing at the most dangerous point, while the weaker swimmer who identifies a narrower crossing might survive.”
“You’re arguing for intelligence over physical capability?” His expression was unreadable.
“I’m arguing for balance. The most effective warrior understands both their capabilities and their environment, adjusting strategy accordingly.”
Jalend studied me for a long moment, something new in his gaze that I couldn’t quite identify. “A philosophy with applications beyond warfare, one might say.”
“Most philosophies worth considering have broad applications,” I replied, surprised to find myself enjoying this exchange despite the intensity of his scrutiny.
He nodded once, as if confirming something to himself, then reopened his book. The conversation ended as abruptly as it had begun, leaving me with the distinct impression I’d passed some sort of test I hadn’t known I was taking.
The meal progressed through its elaborate courses. Our table remained neglected by the servants, though Jalend’s presence ensured we weren’t completely forgotten. The provincial nobles made several more attempts to engage him, each rebuffed with the same polite indifference he’d shown the first.
I found my thoughts drifting again to Septimus, to the decision awaiting me when I returned to my chambers. His possessiveness had always been there, simmering beneath the surface of our contentious relationship. Part of me was thrilled at finally acknowledging the tension between us, at giving in to what we’d both wanted for so long.
Another part feared what it meant. Septimus didn’t share easily. If he discovered about Tarshi, about our nights together... the thought made my chest tighten with anxiety. And yet, he’d spoken of sharing me with Marcus. The apparent contradiction confused me.
Perhaps his hatred of the Talfen outweighed any jealousy he might feel toward Marcus? Or perhaps his jealousy took different forms with different men. Marcus he respected, Tarshi he despised. The politics of desire were as complex as those playing out around us in this ballroom.
If I allowed Septimus back into my bed tonight, was I making a choice I couldn’t undo? Setting events in motion that might threaten everything we’d worked for? Yet the thought of turning him away made my heart sink.
I wanted him. I wanted Marcus. I wanted Tarshi. The realization should have shamed me, but instead brought a strange clarity.
Each of them saw different facets of who I was, who I could be. With Septimus, I was fire and fury, matched in intensity and drive. With Marcus, I found gentleness I’d forgotten I possessed. With Tarshi, understanding and acceptance of parts of myself the Empire had taught me to hate.
