Page 102 of Realms of Swords and Storms
The woman stepped forward immediately, compassion overriding caution. "Of course," she said, holding out her arms to Miri. "Come, little one. You can stay with us for now."
Miri hesitated, looking up at me with those too-old eyes. "My mama's not coming back, is she?" she asked, her voice small but steady.
I couldn't lie to her. "No," I said gently. "I'm so sorry, Miri. But these people will take care of you until we can find your family."
She nodded, a tiny, solemn movement, and allowed herself to be transferred to the woman's arms. As they hurried away, I felt something inside me crack—a fissure in whatever remained of my faith in the Empire, in my father, in the order I had been raised to uphold.
I turned back to find Livia trying to rise, trying to return to the square, to the inferno that had claimed Octavia. Septimus blocked her path, his hands firm on her shoulders.
"She's gone, Livia," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle for such a hard man. "Octavia is gone. There's nothing you can do for her now."
"I have to try," Livia insisted, though her voice was weak, her struggles feeble. "I can't just leave her there."
"You'll die too," Septimus said bluntly. "Is that what she would want?"
I moved to them, placing a hand on Livia's back, feeling the tremors that ran through her body. "He's right," I said softly. "We can't go back there. Not now."
Something broke in her then. She let out a sound—not quite a scream, not quite a sob, but something primal and wounded that seemed to come from the deepest part of her. Her legs gave way, and she would have fallen if Septimus and I hadn't caught her, lowering her gently to the cobblestones.
She curled in on herself, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. I knelt beside her, stroking her hair, murmuring nonsense words of comfort that I knew could never touch the depth of her grief.
Septimus stood over us, his face a rigid mask that couldn't quite hide his own pain. "The resistance," he spat, the words like venom. "They did this. All of this."
"No," Livia's voice was muffled against her knees, but the vehemence in it was unmistakable. "It wasn't the resistance. Itwas a setup, designed to look like the resistance. It was the Emperor. The Empire."
Septimus stared at her, disbelief warring with something else in his expression—something that looked almost like hope. "How could you possibly know that?"
I spoke before I could consider the wisdom of it, before I could weigh the consequences of revealing what I knew. "She's right," I said, still stroking Livia's hair, feeling her lean into my touch like a wounded animal seeking comfort. "The soldiers were ordered to pull back from the festival. Noble families were quietly warned to stay away. It was engineered to make the resistance look like terrorists, to turn public opinion against them and against the Talfen."
Septimus's eyes narrowed, suspicion replacing disbelief. "And how do you know this, nobleman's son?"
I held his gaze steadily. "I have contacts in the military," I said, the half-truth coming easily to my lips. "I heard things. Rumours. Enough to piece it together, enough to know something terrible was planned for today."
I looked down at Livia, who had gone still against me, her sobs quieting though tears still tracked through the soot on her face. "That's why I asked you not to come," I said, unable to keep the anger from my voice. "Why I begged you to stay away. Why you promised me you would."
She lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen, but clear with a terrible understanding. "I had to come," she whispered. "For Tarshi."
The name meant nothing to me, but it clearly meant something to Septimus. He straightened, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.
"What do you mean?" I asked, looking between them, sensing undercurrents I didn't understand. "Who is Tarshi?"
Neither answered me directly. Livia pushed herself to her feet, swaying slightly until I steadied her with a hand at her elbow. "Where are you going?" she asked Septimus, who had turned toward the alley leading back to the square.
"To find him," he replied, his voice gruff with an emotion I couldn't identify. "To bring him home to us."
"I'm coming with you," Livia said immediately, taking a step forward.
"No." Septimus's refusal was absolute, brooking no argument. "You stay here with your... friend." He glanced at me, a flicker of something—assessment, perhaps, or warning—in his eyes. "Keep her safe," he told me, the words an order despite his lack of authority over me. "Don't let her follow me."
Before either of us could protest, he was gone, disappearing back into the smoke-filled streets with the purposeful stride of a man who knew exactly what he was seeking.
Livia moved to follow him, but I tightened my grip on her arm. "You heard him," I said. "You're staying here."
"I can't," she said, turning to me with pleading eyes. "Jalend, you don't understand. Tarshi is... he's important to me. And if what Septimus implied is true, if he was somehow involved in this..."
"All the more reason for you to stay clear," I insisted. "Livia, please. I've already watched you nearly run into a burning building today. I can't bear to see you put yourself in danger again."
She stared at me, something shifting in her expression—a softening, a recognition of the emotion I had inadvertently revealed. "You really do care for me," she said, sounding almost surprised.
