Page 12 of Realms of Swords and Storms
Livia didn't know. Couldn't know. She believed I hated Tarshi, tolerated him only for her sake. What would she think if she knew the truth? That while she slept, I was on my knees for her Talfen lover, begging for the touch I publicly claimed to despise?
The shame of it burned through me. I was betraying her—not just with my body but with my silence. Every day I didn't tell her deepened the deception.
But how could I tell her? How could I admit that I, who'd spent years calling the Talfen demons and monsters, now craved the touch of one? The hypocrisy of it made me sick.
The meeting continued. A half-Talfen man spoke of discrimination getting worse in the city. How those with Talfen attributes were afraid for their lives.
A former soldier described atrocities he'd witnessed at the border, sanctioned by Imperial commanders.
With each testimony, my certainty wavered. These weren't the ravings of zealots or the propaganda of enemies. These were ordinary people sharing lived experiences.
"The Storm festival approaches," Kalen announced, returning to the platform. "The Emperor plans a grand display of Imperialmight—a reminder of who holds power. But we will send our own message that day."
Tarshi leaned forward. "What kind of message?"
"One that cannot be ignored," Kalen replied cryptically. "The Emperor's pride will fall, and with it, the illusions he's built. And we’ll need volunteers, but it’ll be dangerous."
The room hummed with energy—anticipation, fear, determination. For a moment, I almost understood the appeal of their cause. To fight for truth, for justice. To believe in something larger than survival.
Then I remembered Tarus, my murdered brother. The Talfen raid that had destroyed everything I loved. My hatred was the only thing that had kept me alive in those early days as a slave. I couldn't surrender it now, not even in the face of these compelling stories.
And yet... what if everything I believed was built on lies? What if the hatred that had sustained me was misplaced?
The questions threatened to unravel me. It was easier to hate Tarshi, to blame his kind for everything I'd lost, than to consider the alternative. Easier to call what was between us nothing but shameful lust than to examine the confused tangle of feelings that grew more complex with each encounter.
The meeting concluded, and people began to disperse. I needed to leave before Tarshi spotted me. I backed toward the stairs, but as I turned, I collided with someone coming down.
"Watch it!" she hissed, dropping the stack of papers she carried.
Pamphlets—identical to the one I'd picked up earlier—scattered across the floor. I cursed under my breath, dropping to gather them before anyone noticed the commotion.
The woman crouched opposite me. In the dim light, I could see her features clearly now—skin the colour of mine but eyes blacker than midnight, and the unmistakable pointed ears ofTalfen heritage under her greying hair. But there was something else, something in the curve of her mouth or the arch of her brow, that was strikingly human.
I shoved the thought aside, focusing on collecting the pamphlets. "Keep these covered," I muttered. "I just saw someone arrested for carrying one of these in the market."
She studied me, suspicion evident in her gaze. "You're not one of us."
"No."
"Then why are you here?"
I glanced toward Tarshi, who was deep in conversation with Kalen. "Just... curious."
She followed my gaze, understanding dawning in her expression. "Ah. You're here for him."
The way she said it made heat rise to my face.
"Not like that," I snapped, though the lie tasted bitter. "We have mutual... interests."
She smiled, a knowing look that made me want to disappear into the shadows. "If you say so." She took the pamphlets from my hands, our fingers brushing briefly. "Thank you for the warning."
I nodded curtly and turned to leave, eager to escape before Tarshi spotted me.
I made it halfway up the stairs before a strong hand grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around. Tarshi's black demonic eyes blazed with fury, his grip painfully tight.
"What in Inferi are you doing here?" he snarled, voice low enough that only I could hear.
I tried to wrench free, but his strength far exceeded mine—another reminder of his inhuman nature. "Let go of me."
