Page 40 of Realms of Swords and Storms
She opened her eyes, and the heat in them nearly had me kissing her again. "I really do have to go to training."
"I know." I reluctantly stepped back, bending to gather her fallen books. "After classes, then?"
She nodded, taking the books from my hands. Our fingers brushed, and even that simple contact sent a shiver through me. "After classes," she agreed.
I watched her straighten her uniform, adjust her hair, and compose herself back into the disciplined student. It was fascinating, like watching a mask slide into place—but now I'd seen beneath it, I would never be fooled again.
"Lord Northreach?" A voice called from the main corridor. "Lord Northreach, are you there?"
I stepped back into the hallway to find a young page in imperial livery looking around anxiously. "I'm here."
The boy bowed, relief evident on his face. "Sir, you have a visitor waiting in your quarters."
I frowned. Other than my father, and Legate Santius, no one knew I was at the academy. "Tell them I'll be there directly."
The page bowed again and hurried off to deliver my message. I turned back to find Livia watching me, her expression unreadable.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I have to go."
She nodded, her earlier vulnerability now completely hidden behind a wall of composure. "Of course. Your duties call."
There was something in her tone I couldn't quite identify—not quite bitterness, but perhaps resignation. "We'll still meet later?"
"Yes." Her voice softened slightly. "Eastern courtyard after classes."
I wanted to kiss her again, but the moment had passed. "Until then," I said, and with a final glance, I turned and headed toward my quarters.
My quarters at the academy were fairly luxurious, and though they didn’t compare to my own at the Imperial Palace, I had a sitting room, bedroom, and private bath, with windows overlooking the western training grounds where dragons practiced aerial manoeuvres.
I found Legate Santius standing at those windows, watching a pair of red dragons performing synchronized dives. He turned as I entered, his weathered face breaking into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Lord Jalend," he greeted me, extending his arm in the traditional soldier's clasp. "Forgive my intrusion."
I clasped his forearm firmly, meeting his gaze directly as my father had taught me. "Legate Santius. This is an unexpected honour."
He was an imposing figure in his formal military regalia—scarlet and gold, the colours of the Imperial Guard, with the insignia of his high rank displayed prominently on his breast. His face bore the scars of numerous campaigns, and his lefteye was slightly clouded, the result of a Talfen spear during the Northern Rebellion fifteen years ago.
"Please, sit," I said, gesturing to the comfortable chairs near the hearth. "Can I offer you wine? Tea?"
"Wine would be welcome after the journey," he said, settling into one of the chairs with the easy confidence of a man accustomed to command.
I poured two glasses of the fine Westlands red my father had sent with me to the academy, handing one to Santius before taking the seat opposite him. "What brings you to the academy, Legate? I hope all is well with my father?"
"The Emperor is in excellent health," Santius assured me, taking a sip of the wine and nodding appreciatively. "He sends his regards. But I'm afraid my visit isn't purely social."
I set my glass down, giving him my full attention. "I suspected as much."
Santius studied me for a moment, his expression calculating. “Your father speaks highly of your progress."
"I've done well enough," I said modestly. "Fourth in my class overall, second in tactical theory."
Santius nodded approvingly. "Good. The empire needs men of intelligence as well as strength." He leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, Lord Jalend, what news reaches you here of events in the imperial city? Or the outer provinces?"
The question caught me off guard. "Very little," I admitted. "The academy keeps us rather isolated. Our focus is on our studies, not current events."
"A wise policy in many ways," Santius said, swirling the wine in his glass. "But perhaps too sheltering for someone who will one day sit on the Imperial Throne."
My curiosity was thoroughly piqued now. "Has something happened, Legate?"
