Page 56 of City of Secrets and Shadows
He pressed his face into my neck, kissing me softly, then inhaled deeply.
I could feel every hard plane of his body, the heat of him seeping into my skin. Despite my exhaustion, despite everything, my treacherous body responded, melting against him.
“I do hate you,” I whispered, but the words lacked conviction even to my own ears.
“I know.” His lips brushed the nape of my neck, surprisingly gentle. “Hate me tomorrow. Tonight, just sleep.”
15
Istepped into the tavern with a grimace, the sharp stench of cheap tallow candles and cheaper beer assaulting my senses. After just two days surrounded by the academy’s stark corridors and ostentatious military styled rooms, this tavern near the workers district was a stark reminder of the real Empire — the one that sweated and bled and stank. Marcus had chosen the place. Of course he had. The man spent his days elbow-deep in offal, wearing a butcher’s apron splattered with blood like some perverse badge of honour. Another escaped gladiator hiding in plain sight, chopping meat instead of men. I’d never understood how easily he seemed to adapt to civilian life.
The tavern was crowded despite the early hour, filled with labourers enjoying an afternoon drink before returning to their shops and stalls. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air, adding another layer to the already pungent atmosphere. The wooden tables were scarred from years of abuse, stained with rings from countless mugs and pitted with knife marks from drunken games.
I spotted Marcus in the corner, his hulking frame unmistakable even in the dim light. The countless scars that crisscrossed his forearms were visible as he raised a hand in greeting, a lopsided smile appearing beneath his roughly trimmed beard. Unlike me, he looked perfectly at home among these commoners, chatting easily with the serving girl who delivered a fresh pitcher to his table.
“Septimus!” he called as I approached. “Beginning to think you’d forgotten me.”
“The academy isn’t exactly generous with free time,” I replied, sliding onto the bench across from him. “Even after just two days.”
Marcus poured beer into a clay mug and slid it across the table. “How’s life as Livia’s loyal body slave? Keeping you busy?”
There was something in his tone — a hint of suggestion that made me narrow my eyes. But his expression remained innocent enough.
“Busier than you might think.” I took a long pull from the mug, grimacing at the sour taste. “Gods, what is this swill?”
“The finest this place has to offer.” Marcus laughed, the sound booming and genuine. “Some of us haven’t been sampling academy wines.”
“Two days isn’t enough to develop refined tastes,” I said dryly. “Though I won’t deny the food is better than anything we had in the pits.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between us. This was the challenge with Marcus — we’d never spent much time alone together. Our connections had always been through Livia, orbiting her like twin moons around a planet. Without her to mediate, our interactions often stalled, weighted down by the unsaid.
The serving girl returned, placing a wooden platter between us — roasted meat, a chunk of hard cheese, and bread that looked suspiciously like it had been baked yesterday.
“So,” Marcus said, tearing off a piece of bread, “how fares our noble woman at the prestigious Imperial Academy? Living up to her family name?”
“More than living up to it. More physical tests today.” I took another drink, the beer tasting marginally better now that my palate had adjusted to the sourness. “From what I’ve gathered, it’s an intensive demonstration of water manipulation that pushes even talented students to their limits.”
“She won’t fail,” Marcus said with such certainty that I almost believed him. “She never has. Not when it matters.”
I grunted in acknowledgment. He wasn’t wrong. Livia possessed a stubborn determination that bordered on the miraculous. I’d watched her overcome seemingly impossible odds before — seen her rise from defeat time and again, stronger and more resolute than before.
“How’s she handling the pressure?” Marcus asked. “The Livia I remember doesn’t cope well with the threat of failure.”
“She’s…” I paused, considering how much to share. “Tense. Focused to the point of obsession.”
“That sounds like her.”
He trailed off and for a few minutes we sat there in an uncomfortable silence.
“Something else on your mind?” Marcus asked, his tone casual but his eyes shrewd.
I hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t planned to bring it up at all. But something about sitting here with Marcus, the only other person who knew her as I did, who’d followed her as I had, broke down my usual restraint.
“We’re sleeping together,” I blurted out suddenly, immediately cursing myself inwardly.
The words hung in the air between us. I watched his reaction carefully — the subtle tightening around his eyes, the twitch of his jaw before he forced his features into neutrality. Jealousy, quickly masked. I’d expected as much.
“Ah,” he said finally, reaching for the pitcher. “I wondered when that would happen.”
