Page 10 of Realms of Swords and Storms
Gods help me, I was obsessed with a half-demon.
My body tightened at the memory of our last encounter, three nights ago in the abandoned storeroom behind the winemerchant's shop. Tarshi had bent me over a barrel, one hand gripping my hair, the other holding my wrists behind my back. "You hate this, don't you, human?" he'd growled, his breath hot against my ear as he thrust into me. "Tell me how much you hate it."
And I'd begged for more, hating myself even as pleasure coursed through me.
It had been like this since that first night in the alley, when he'd caught me following him and forced me to my knees. I should have fought him—would have, if I'd been the man I pretended to be. Instead, I'd opened my mouth and let him push his cock between my lips, my own hardening shamefully as he gripped my hair and used me.
"This is what you've been wanting, isn't it?" he'd snarled down at me. "This is why you can't stop watching me."
He'd been right, damn him. For months I'd been fighting this hunger, this inexplicable need that contradicted everything I believed. When it was over, I'd wiped my mouth, called him a filthy demon, and promised to kill him if he ever touched me again.
The next night, I'd waited for him in the same alley.
We'd been meeting in secret for weeks now—in alleys, abandoned buildings, once even in the stables behind the academy while Livia slept. Each time I’d told myself this was the last time. Each time I promised myself that I would tell Livia the next day, but I could never bring myself to utter the words that would reveal my darkest shame and self-loathing. I knew she cared for Tarshi, that she hadn’t wanted to leave him behind, that she saw him as human, but would she still see me the same way if I confessed to what I’d let him do? To what I’d let him do over and over again? Would she be disgusted at how I’d let him use me, at what I did at his bidding? What if she never wanted to see me again? I couldn’t bear it, and yet here I was, followinghim again, my body already responding to the mere sight of him ahead of me.
Tarshi paused at a crossroads, glancing over his shoulder. I pressed myself against the rough stone wall, holding my breath. His nostrils flared slightly—those damn Talfen senses of his—but after a moment, he turned down a narrow street lined with dilapidated taverns and brothels.
Before I could follow, a commotion erupted from the main thoroughfare. Imperial guards, their armour gleaming even in the dim torchlight, had surrounded a merchant's stall. The poor bastard was on his knees, hands raised in surrender.
"Please," he begged, "I was just holding them for someone else. I didn't even read—"
A guard's armoured fist silenced him. "Possession of seditious materials is treason against the Emperor." He held up a stack of pamphlets. "Take him."
"It's just paper," a woman called from the gathering crowd. "You can't arrest a man for having paper!"
The guard captain turned, his face hardening as he scanned the onlookers. "Anyone who defends traitors shares in their guilt. Anyone who harbours sympathy for the half-breed abominations is an enemy of the Empire."
The crowd fell silent, eyes downcast, no one willing to challenge the Imperial guards further. I couldn’t see if the man was of tainted blood or not, but I'd seen this scene play out dozens of times since we’d been in the city. Any citizen with Talfen blood was forced to document themselves with the Imperial census and was restricted as to where they could live, what work they could do. Mere sympathy for their plight was enough to be branded a traitor.
As they dragged the merchant away, his wife fell to her knees, clutching at the captain's cloak. "Please, he has children! He's loyal to the Empire!"
The captain kicked her aside. "Then he should have remembered his loyalty before aiding demon sympathizers." He gestured to his men. "Search the house. If there's any evidence of Talfen blood or sympathy, take the whole family."
I pressed deeper into the shadows, my stomach churning. This was justice, I reminded myself. The Talfen were demons—unnatural creatures whose very existence threatened humanity.
The screams still haunted my dreams—my mother, my father, my little sister. The way the soldiers had torn through our homes like a wave of white and gold, their armour gleaming in the light of the burning houses. Imperial soldiers, acting on orders to purge any village suspected of Talfen sympathy, but it was still the Talfen's fault. If Livia's parents hadn't been trying to make peace with those demons, if they hadn't been communicating with Talfen elders, the Imperial forces would never have come. Our families would still be alive.
The Talfen were the reason for all of it. Their existence threatened the Empire, threatened everything I loved, including Livia, and I hated them. That hatred sustained me through five years as a house slave, then through the brutal training of the ludus. It gave purpose to my life when I had nothing else. The memory of Tarus, Livia's brother and my best friend, dying in my arms after he'd tried to protect his sister from the soldiers, only strengthened my resolve. His final words—making me swear to keep Livia safe—were a vow I'd never break. And in my mind, that meant protecting her from the creatures whose very existence had brought destruction to our village. Even though I knew it was Imperial swords that cut down my family, it was easier to place the blame where the Empire directed it—on the Talfen and their half-breed offspring.
Like Tarshi.
And yet, something inside me was shifting, fracturing. I'd watched Tarshi rage against gladiators who’d insulted Livia. I’dseen him become almost possessed by something demonic and yet only when facing a man who’d tried to hurt the woman I loved. He could be cruel, yes — the gods knew he was brutal with me in our encounters — but I'd also seen him guard her with his life, place himself between her and danger without hesitation. Seen the gentleness in his eyes when he looked at her, a tenderness I'd never witnessed in anyone else. Not the gaze of a monster.
I shook my head, trying to clear these treasonous thoughts.
The merchant's sobbing wife was being dragged away now, her children screaming for her. One of the guards cuffed a boy no more than ten across the face when he tried to follow his mother. The child crumpled to the ground, blood trickling from his lip.
Something twisted in my gut. This wasn't justice. This was...
I couldn’t help. There were six soldiers, and even if I tried, I’d be dragged away too. Instead, I turned away, bile rising in my throat, trying to ignore the rising shame. I needed to find Tarshi. Needed to lose myself in the mindless pleasure of our coupling, to forget what I'd just witnessed.
One of the pamphlets caught in the breeze, landing near my feet. I snatched it up, glancing quickly at the bold letters across the top: THE EMPEROR'S WAR—TRUTH AND LIES.
I should have left it. Should have stomped it into the mud or handed it to the guards to earn their favour. Instead, I stuffed it inside my tunic, my heart pounding. If I were caught with this, I'd suffer the same fate as the merchant—or worse, given my status as a slave.
The crowd dispersed quickly as the guards continued their search of the merchant's home. None wanted to linger, to be associated with a traitor. I understood their fear. The Emperor's justice was swift and brutal for those who questioned the official narrative of the war.
"The Talfen are demons," the Imperial priests taught. "Half-breeds are abominations—impure vessels for demonic corruption. To show them mercy is to betray humanity itself."
