Page 36 of Realms of Swords and Storms
"What's wrong?" he asked, leaning against my desk, arms crossed over his chest. "And don't say 'nothing.' I know you better than that."
I sank back onto the bed, suddenly exhausted. "Everything," I admitted. "Everything is wrong."
Tarshi waited, giving me the space to continue or not as I chose. It was one of the things I loved most about him—his patience, his willingness to let me find my own way to difficult truths.
"I did something stupid," I finally said, staring at my hands in my lap. "With Jalend."
Tarshi's posture stiffened, a subtle change that most wouldn't notice, but I knew every nuance of his body language. "The western noble's son?" His voice remained neutral, but I sensed a tension in him at the mention of Jalend's name.
I nodded, not looking up. "In the stables yesterday. We... it got out of hand."
"Define 'out of hand,'" Tarshi said, a dangerous edge entering his voice.
"We didn't—it wasn't—" I stumbled over the words, heat rising to my face. "We just kissed. And touched. Nothing more."
"I see." His tone had cooled considerably. "And now?"
"Now I don't know what to do," I confessed. "He wants to talk. He wants... more. And I can't give him that. I can't give him anything."
"Because of who you are," Tarshi said softly. It wasn't a question.
"Because of everything." I finally looked up at him, feeling the sting of tears I refused to shed. "Because I'm living a lie. Because even if I wasn't, his family is so far above mine that it would never be permitted. Because I came here to learn how to kill the Emperor, not to fall for some noble's son."
I hesitated, then added the fear I couldn't bring myself to fully acknowledge: "Because I love you, and I'm terrified I'm losing you anyway."
Something in Tarshi's expression shifted, softened. He moved from the desk to sit beside me on the bed, his presence a familiarcomfort even with the recent distance between us. "Why would you think you're losing me?"
"You've been different lately. Distant. Secretive." I turned to face him fully. "You and Septimus both. You disappear for hours without explanation. You have conversations that stop the moment I approach. What am I supposed to think?"
Tarshi's hand found mine, his fingers interlacing with my own in a gesture so achingly familiar that it made my throat tight. "Liv, no. It's not like that."
"Then what is it like?" I demanded. "Because I feel like I'm drowning here, Tarshi. Everything is falling apart. I can't focus on my training, I can't sleep, I see Arilius in my dreams every night with his blood on my hands, and now I'm questioning everything—my purpose, my strength, my resolve."
I pulled my hand from his, standing to pace the small confines of my room. "What if I can't do it? What if, when the moment comes, I don't have the strength to kill the Emperor? What if I'm too broken, too weak?" My voice cracked on the last word.
Tarshi rose, moving to intercept my restless pacing. His hands caught my shoulders, gently but firmly stopping my movement. "Your worth isn't measured by your capacity for vengeance," he said quietly. "You're not weak, Little Dragon. You survived when no one else did. You escaped when it should have been impossible. You found Sirrax and bonded with him when most riders spend years just learning to communicate with their dragons."
His words were kind, but they didn't ease the knot of failure in my chest. "If I can't avenge my family, what am I even doing here? What's the point of any of this?"
"Maybe vengeance isn't the only way to honour them," Tarshi suggested. "Maybe changing the world that allowed their deaths is a better tribute than one more killing."
I looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
Tarshi hesitated, something guarded entering his expression. "The resistance isn't just about assassinating the Emperor, Liv. It's about transforming the entire system. Creating a world where what happened to your family couldn't happen to anyone else."
"And how exactly am I supposed to help with that?" I asked, a hint of bitterness creeping into my voice. "Politics have never been my strength."
A small smile curved Tarshi's lips. "You're a badass warrior with a ferocious dragon," he reminded me, a hint of pride in his voice. "When the fighting starts—and it will—we'll need people like you. The Emperor won't surrender the power his family has held for centuries without bloodshed."
I considered his words, trying to imagine a different path for myself—not a solitary assassin, but part of something larger. It was both terrifying and strangely comforting, the idea that I might not have to carry the weight of vengeance alone.
"Is that what you and Septimus have been doing?" I asked. "Why you've both been so secretive lately? Resistance work?"
Tarshi's expression closed slightly. "It's complicated, Liv. There are things I can't tell you. Not yet. But I promise, nothing has changed in how I feel about you."
His hands moved from my shoulders to cup my face, his touch gentle despite the strength I knew he possessed. "I love you. That hasn't changed. That will never change."
"But something has changed," I insisted. "I can feel it. You've pulled away from me, Tarshi. And I can't bear it. Everything else in my life is chaos and lies, but you—you're the one true thing I have. If I lose that..."
