Page 45 of City of Secrets and Shadows
But wanting wasn’t having. And having all three seemed impossible given the tensions between them — especially Septimus’s hatred of Tarshi.
My brooding was interrupted by a subtle shift in the ballroom’s atmosphere. The legates had risen from the HighTable, signalling the transition from the formal meal to the less structured portion of the evening. Musicians positioned at the corners of the room began to play, their melody providing backdrop to the increasingly animated conversations as nobles moved between tables, forming and reforming groups based on interests and alliances.
“You seem preoccupied,” Jalend observed, closing his book as the dessert plates were cleared away.
“Just considering strategies,” I replied vaguely.
“For the water trials or for surviving this gathering?” A trace of amusement coloured his tone.
“Both require careful navigation of treacherous currents.”
He actually smiled at that — a small, quick expression that transformed his features momentarily before disappearing behind his usual reserve. “Indeed. Though I find most prefer to travel the expected paths, regardless of the dangers.”
“And you don’t?”
His eyes met mine directly. “I prefer to evaluate paths based on where they lead rather than who has travelled them before.”
“A luxury not everyone can afford,” I said, thinking of how precarious my position here truly was.
“A necessity few recognize,” he countered. “The consequences of blindly following established routes often prove far costlier than charting one’s own course.”
Before I could respond, one of the legates approached our table. The conversation around us faltered as everyone straightened, suddenly attentive.
“Lord Jalend,” the legate addressed him with curiosity rather than the deference shown to the established noble families. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. Which province do you represent?”
Jalend closed his book with deliberate slowness. “Northreach. My family’s estate lies in the shadow of the Ashen Mountains.”
The legate’s brow furrowed slightly. “I’m not familiar with noble holdings in that region.”
“Few are,” Jalend replied without elaboration. “We value our privacy.”
A flicker of uncertainty crossed the legate’s face before his diplomatic training reasserted itself. “Well, we look forward to seeing your performance in tomorrow’s trials. It’s always refreshing to welcome new blood into the academy.”
“Indeed,” Jalend said, his tone making it clear the discussion was concluded.
As the legate retreated, I reassessed Jalend once more. There was something odd about his interactions, about the way he carried himself with such quiet confidence despite apparently having no established connections among the imperial elite. Either he was playing a very complex game, or he was exactly what he appeared to be — an outlier by choice rather than circumstance.
Jalend rose from the table, tucking his book inside his formal attire. “An enlightening conversation,” he said, addressing me directly. “I look forward to observing your performance in the water trials.” With a curt nod to the table at large, he departed, leaving a wake of whispers behind him.
The remainder of the evening passed in a blur of calculated conversation and careful observation. I noted which candidates attracted the attention of the legates, which were ignored despite their efforts. The social hierarchy grew clearer with each interaction, and my position near the bottom was confirmed repeatedly by subtle and not-so-subtle reminders.
It should have bothered me more than it did. But my mind remained divided between the immediate challenge of navigating this political landscape and the more personal dilemma awaiting me in my chambers. As the evening drew toa close, I still hadn’t decided what I would do when — if — Septimus came to me.
The walk back to my quarters gave me time to think, but brought no clarity. Octavia had already gone back to the apartment she and Marcus were staying in, and I was glad, preferring privacy as I removed the bronze jewellery and unwound the metal threads from my braids, examining my reflection in the polished metal mirror.
I barely recognized myself. The woman who looked back at me seemed far removed from the gladiator who had fought for her life in blood-soaked sand, from the slave girl who had watched her family die. This woman wore her transformation like armour, but underneath...
Underneath, I was still me. Still driven by the promise I’d made to my dying brother. Still determined to see the Emperor pay for what he’d done to my family, to my village. I hadn’t lost sight of my purpose amid the luxury and political games. That, at least, was something to hold onto.My thoughts drifted to Jalend, that strange provincial noble who had chosen our outcast table. There had been something compelling about him — not just his handsome features, though they were undeniable. Strong jawline, eyes that seemed to see more than others, and a quiet intensity that commanded attention despite his apparent desire to avoid it. His arrogance should have repelled me, but there was substance behind it, a quick intelligence that had engaged with my thoughts rather than dismissing them.
He seemed different from the other nobles, lacking their desperate need for validation, their constant jockeying for position. What drove someone like that to seek entry to the academy? Most provincial families viewed it as a path to greater political influence, a way to insert themselves into the imperial hierarchy. But Jalend had shown nothing but disdain for those social games.
A soft sound at my door interrupted my musings. Not a knock this time, but a subtle scratching pattern I recognized instantly. My heart quickened as I moved to unlatch it.
Tarshi slipped inside with the fluid grace that characterized all his movements. Unlike Septimus with his warrior’s bulk or Marcus with his scholarly bearing, Tarshi moved like water — adaptable, flowing, impossible to constrain. His amber eyes caught the lamplight as he closed the door behind him.
“You’re safe,” he breathed, pulling me into his arms with a gentleness that belied his strength. His lips found mine in a kiss that tasted of relief and longing.
When we separated, I leaned my forehead against his. “I wasn’t in any danger.”
