Page 51 of Realms of Swords and Storms
I smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Am I that transparent?"
"Only to me." She propped herself up on one elbow to look at me, her expression serious. "Are you truly alright with what I told you? About Jalend? About Tarshi?"
I considered my answer carefully. "I won't pretend it wasn't a surprise. Especially about Tarshi." I traced the curve of her cheek with my fingertips. "But who am I to dictate your heart, Livia? I'm just grateful to have any part of it."
"You have more than a part," she said fiercely. "You saved me, Marcus. When I thought there was nothing left for me but vengeance, you showed me I could still feel. Still love."
Her words hit me with unexpected force, making my throat tight. "I could say the same about you."
She settled back against my chest, her hand coming to rest over my heart. "Are you worried about me?"
"Constantly," I admitted with a short laugh. "You've infiltrated the Dragon Elite Academy, you're planning to assassinate the Emperor, and now you've caught the eye of a nobleman. Worry seems like an appropriate response."
She smiled against my skin. "When you put it like that, it does sound rather reckless."
"Reckless is your natural state of being," I teased, running my hand down the smooth curve of her back. Then, more seriously: "I used to fantasize about taking you away from all this. Findingsome quiet corner of the world where the Empire couldn't reach us."
"And now?" she asked softly.
"Now I know you'd never forgive me if I tried." I sighed, tightening my arm around her. "You're a warrior, Livia. Fighting for what you believe in is as essential to you as breathing. It's one of the things I love most about you, even when it terrifies me."
She was quiet for a moment, her fingertips drawing circles on my chest. "Hearing you say that means more than I can express," she finally said. "Too many people have tried to change me, to make me smaller, safer."
"Never." I pressed another kiss to her hair. "Though I reserve the right to worry about you."
"Fair enough." She tilted her head up to look at me. "What about you? Getting involved with the resistance is dangerous too."
I hadn't expected her concern to be directed at me. "It's different," I argued. "I'm not infiltrating the Imperial Palace or sleeping with nobles."
Her expression turned serious. "It's still dangerous, Marcus. If they catch you..."
"They won't," I assured her, though we both knew it was an empty promise. No one was truly safe in this fight. "Besides, now that I know about you and Tarshi, my involvement with the resistance makes even more sense."
"How so?"
I chose my words carefully. "If there's any hope for a future where you and Tarshi could be together openly, where none of us have to hide or pretend, things need to change. Fundamentally change." I stroked her hair, the silky strands sliding through my fingers. "The resistance isn't just fighting against the Emperor's tyranny; they're fighting for a different kind of world. One where a person's worth isn't determined by their blood or birth."
Understanding dawned in her eyes. "A world where Tarshi and I could walk in the daylight together. Where you and I wouldn't have to hide."
"Exactly." I cupped her face gently. "So you see, my involvement isn't just about bringing down the Empire. It's about helping to build something better in its place. Something worth fighting for."
She leaned in to kiss me, a soft, sweet press of lips that conveyed more than words could have. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I don't deserve you," she whispered.
"You deserve everything," I corrected her. "All the love, all the freedom, all the joy this world has to offer. And if I can help you find even a fraction of that, it will have been worth it."
She settled back against my chest, her arm tightening around my waist. I held her close, listening to her breathing gradually slow as she drifted toward sleep. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, painting the small room in hues of gold and amber. Soon we would have to rise, to dress, to return her to the Academy before her absence was noted. Soon we would step back into our separate lives – me as a labourer in the city, her as a noble student training to be a dragon rider.
But for now, for this brief stolen moment, we were just Marcus and Livia. Two people who had lost everything and somehow found each other in the wreckage. Two people bound by love, by shared pain, by a vision of a world that might someday be better than the one we'd been given.
And despite everything – the danger, the uncertainty, the complexity of her heart that encompassed not just me but others as well – I found myself profoundly grateful for this moment, for this woman in my arms.
Whatever came next, we would face it together. Not just the two of us, but all of us who loved her. And somehow, that seemed like enough.
14
The pain in my thigh was a constant throb, a steady reminder of my carelessness. I shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench, trying to find a position that didn't send shooting pains up my leg. The wound was healing, but slowly—too slowly for my liking. And for Livia’s. She hadn’t said anything when she’d seen the dressed wound, but her lips had thinned, and she’d looked away. I knew she hated the idea of me getting hurt, but she understood me enough to know that it wasn’t enough to scare me off. Just like it wouldn’t be for her. We were the same. I’d tried to take it easy, but I was impatient. I needed to be at full strength for what was coming.
The cellar beneath The Crow's Coin was more crowded than I'd ever seen it, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder in the dim, smoky space. The air was thick with sweat and anticipation, making it difficult to breathe. Or perhaps that was just the lingering effect of the arrow wound—a fever that came and went, leaving me alternately burning and freezing.
