Page 80 of Realms of Swords and Storms
"What I feel," he said, his voice glacial, "is disgust. At myself, for letting this happen. At you, for corrupting her. At both of you, for thinking I could ever accept this perversion."
The words struck like physical blows, each one calculated to inflict maximum damage. I knew it was his fear talking, his panic at being exposed, at being vulnerable. But knowing that didn't lessen the pain.
"Septimus," Livia began, reaching for him, but he stepped back, avoiding her touch.
"Don't," he said, his voice cracking. "Just... don't."
He turned toward the door, his shoulders rigid with tension. At the threshold, he paused, not looking back.
"You need to know something else," he said, the words directed at the doorframe. "Tarshi is a demon. I’ve seen it, seen the evil beneath his skin try to escape, watched him rip Varin apart in his rage." He glanced back then, his eyes meeting Livia's. "Did he tell you that part? Or was he keeping that secret too?"
Livia's expression didn't change. "I know what he is," she said steadily. "I've known for weeks. I've watched him transform. And it only makes me love him more."
Something broke in Septimus's face—the last fragile thread of hope, perhaps. He nodded once, a sharp, painful gesture.
"Then you're both lost," he said, and walked out, the door closing with a finality that echoed in the sudden silence.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The room felt colder without him, emptier somehow. I stared at the closed door, half-expecting him to return, to say he didn't mean it, that he was scared but willing to try. But the door remained closed, and the silence stretched between us like a void.
Livia moved first, crossing to where I stood and wrapping her arms around me. I held her tightly, feeling the fine tremors running through her body, the dampness of silent tears against my chest.
"I'm sorry," I murmured into her hair. "I should have told you about us sooner. I should have been honest from the beginning."
She pulled back just enough to look up at me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I understand why you didn't," she said. "You were protecting me. Protecting him, too, in your own way."
"I thought he might..." I trailed off, not sure how to articulate the foolish hope I'd harboured. That Septimus might eventually see past his prejudice? That he might admit his feelings went beyond physical desire? That we might somehow forge a future together, the three of us, despite everything that stood between us? It seemed laughable now, in the wake of his rejection.
"I know," Livia said, reading my unspoken thoughts as she so often did. "I hoped so too."
The simple admission broke something inside me. All the anger, all the hurt, all the frustration of the past months came rushing out in a tide I couldn't control. I sank onto the edge of the bed, my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking with emotions I couldn't name.
Livia sat beside me, her arm around my waist, her head resting on my shoulder. "He's scared," she said softly. "He's been taught his entire life to hate what you are, what he feels for you. That kind of conditioning doesn't disappear overnight."
"I know," I said, my voice rough. "But knowing doesn't make it hurt less."
"No," she agreed. "It doesn't."
We sat in silence for a time, finding comfort in each other's presence. Outside, the moon continued its path across the sky, indifferent to the human drama playing out beneath it. Finally, Livia sighed, a sound of bone-deep weariness.
"He'll come around," she said, though I wasn't sure if she was trying to convince me or herself. "Once he's had time to think, to process everything. He cares for you—I've seen it, even if he can't admit it to himself yet."
I wanted to believe her. Gods, how I wanted to believe her. But the memory of Septimus's face, the disgust and rejection in his eyes, was too fresh, too raw.
"And if he doesn't?" I asked, voicing the fear that hung between us.
Livia was quiet for a long moment. "Then we go on without him," she said finally, her voice steady despite the pain I knew she felt. "It would break my heart, but I won't let his fears destroy what we have. What we've built together."
Her unwavering loyalty, her absolute acceptance of me—of all of me, human and Talfen alike—was a gift I still wasn't sure I deserved. I pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"I love you," I said simply. "Whatever happens, whatever comes next—remember that."
She nodded against my shoulder, her body relaxing slightly as exhaustion began to claim her. I guided her to lie down, pulling the blankets over her trembling form. She looked small suddenly, vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. I stretched out beside her, gathering her close, offering what comfort I could.
"Stay with me," she murmured, already half-asleep. "Don't leave."
"I'm here," I assured her, stroking her hair until her breathing deepened and her body went slack against mine.
I lay awake long after she had fallen asleep, my mind racing with the events of the night. The hope I'd briefly allowed myself to feel had been crushed under the weight of Septimus's rejection. But beneath the hurt, something else was growing—a cold, hard anger that had nothing to do with personal betrayal and everything to do with the system that had created this situation. The Empire, with its lies and its prejudice, its careful cultivation of hatred and fear. The society that had taught Septimus to despise himself for wanting me, that had forced me to hide my true nature for my entire life.
