Page 99 of Realms of Swords and Storms
"You were right," I whispered, my voice raw from smoke and screaming. "All along, you were right."
His expression didn't change, but something in his stance shifted—wariness mingled with confusion. "What?"
"About me." I set the bomb aside carefully, then raised empty hands in surrender. "Not about the Talfen. We're not monsters by birth. But I... I became one by choice."
The sword in his hand wavered slightly. Around us, the square continued to burn, smoke billowing toward a sky that seemed impossibly blue above the devastation. Distant screams and cries for help punctuated the crackle of flames consuming what remained of imperial buildings.
"I helped do this," I continued, needing him to understand, needing someone to hear my confession even if absolution was impossible. "I planted bombs, believing I was striking a blow for freedom, for justice. I told myself it was about buildings, symbols, not people. That warnings would be given. That innocents would be spared."
A bitter laugh escaped me, edged with hysteria. "But I knew. Deep down, I knew there would be casualties. And I acceptedit. Because I was angry. Because I was hurting. Because hating was easier than feeling the pain of everything I'd lost—my home, my freedom, my..." I hesitated, then forced myself to finish. "My heart."
Septimus's eyes narrowed, but he remained silent, letting me speak the words that burned like acid in my throat.
"I wanted to build a world where we could be different," I said softly. "Where you could touch me without shame. Where I could love you without the pain that goes with it—the knowledge that you never could, never would let yourself love me back. Not ever."
Pain flashed across his face, quickly masked. But I had seen it, and in that moment, I knew I had struck closer to his truth than he had ever allowed.
"I thought if I fought hard enough, sacrificed enough, somehow I could create that world." I gestured at the devastation surrounding us, at the bodies half-buried in rubble, at the blood staining ancient cobblestones. "Instead, I helped create this. I let myself be tricked, manipulated by a man who knew exactly how to use my hatred against me."
I slumped back against the platform struts, suddenly exhausted beyond measure. "Nothing was worth this," I whispered. "No cause, no ideology, no dream of freedom or justice or... or love. Nothing justifies what happened here today."
Septimus lowered his sword slowly, his expression softening into something I couldn't read—not forgiveness, certainly, but perhaps a shadow of understanding.
"What now?" he asked, the question hanging between us like smoke.
I looked past him at the square, at the city beyond, at all the lives that would be forever marked by this day. By my choices. By my failure.
"Now I try to make amends," I said, knowing it was impossible, knowing no amount of good could ever balance the scales weighted with so much innocent blood. "Not for forgiveness. I don't deserve that. But because it's the only thing left I can do."
I rose to my feet, swaying slightly, aware of every cut, every bruise, every ache in a body that felt suddenly, profoundly human in its frailty. "You should go," I told him. "Find the others. Help who you can. There's nothing for you here."
He studied my face for a long moment, as if memorizing it, or perhaps searching for something he had once seen there and now feared was gone forever.
"And you?" he asked finally, his voice softer than I had ever heard it.
I looked toward the burning heart of the city, where more devices might wait, where more lives hung in the balance. Where, perhaps, Kalen still moved like a shadow through the chaos he had created.
"I have work to do," I said simply.
And for the second time that day, I walked away from someone I loved, into a fire of my own making.
27
Dawn found me pacing the confines of my chambers like a caged animal. Sleep had eluded me entirely, my mind too full of Santius's revelations and my own tangled thoughts to find any peace. The festival was due to begin in a matter of hours, and something terrible was going to happen—something my father had orchestrated, something I was powerless to prevent.
I paused at the window, watching as the first golden rays of sunlight spilled across the imperial city. From this height, everything looked peaceful, orderly, the cobblestone streets already beginning to fill with citizens making their way toward the central square. They were excited, happy, anticipating a day of celebration. They had no idea they were walking into a trap.
And I had done nothing to warn them.
The realization sat like lead in my stomach. I had spent the night convincing myself there was nothing I could do. Any public warning would be dismissed as the ravings of a madman, orworse, as treason against the Empire. My father's agents would silence me before I could reach more than a handful of people.
But I had warned one person. Livia.
The thought of her brought both comfort and fresh anxiety. She had promised to stay away from the festival, but the doubt in her eyes haunted me. Would she heed my warning? Would she be safe?
I needed to see her. To make sure. And perhaps... perhaps to tell her the truth. Not just about today's danger, but about who I truly was. The thought made my heart race with fear, but also with a strange, desperate hope. If anyone could understand the impossible position I found myself in, it might be her.
Decision made, I dressed quickly, choosing plain clothes that would attract minimal attention. No Imperial insignia, nothing to mark me as the Emperor's heir. Today, I would be just a man, seeking the woman who had somehow become essential to my peace of mind.
