Chapter 20
Isat curled up between Tarshi and Sirrax and told them about my conversation with Aytara.
The words felt like poison leaving my mouth as I told them what she had revealed.
Each detail—the cure, the sacrifice, the certainty that Taveth wouldn't survive.
By the time I finished, the silence in Marcus and Antonius's chambers was heavy with grim understanding.
Tarshi was the first to speak, his jaw set with quiet determination despite the pain I could see flickering in his eyes.
"She needs to tell him," he said simply.
"He deserves to know there's an option, even if it's..." He swallowed hard, but his voice remained steady. "Even if it costs him everything."
"Don't know would work," Sirrax pointed out, though I could see the conflict in his expression—concern for me warring with sympathy for a situation none of them could truly understand. Other than Tarshi, he was the only other one who could feel the darkness tainting the bond between us all.
"And we don't know that it wouldn't," Jalend said quietly, ever the scholar weighing possibilities. "But either way, keeping it from him isn't fair. Not when he's suffering like this."
Septimus was pacing like a caged wolf, his protective instincts clearly at war with the reality of our situation.
"I don't like any of this. The idea of you being anywhere near him if he attempts something like that.
.." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration radiating from every line of his body.
“I should go and be with him,” I said quietly, feeling utterly drained, and not quite wanting to leave the warmth of the two men on either side of me.
"The healers gave him something to help him sleep," Septimus said, moving to stand behind Tarshi's chair.
His hands settled on his lover's shoulders, offering silent support.
"He should rest through the night. Tomorrow, when Aytara tells him.
.." He shook his head. "Well, we'll deal with whatever comes next. "
I watched as Tarshi leaned back slightly into Septimus's touch, drawing strength from the contact. The gesture was small, but it spoke volumes about how much he was struggling with this—knowing his twin brother might choose death over the slow consumption of madness.
"You're staying here tonight," Marcus said suddenly, his tone making it clear this wasn't a request. "Not in your chambers, not near Taveth. Here, where we know you're safe."
I wanted to protest, wanted to insist that I should be with Taveth in case he woke and needed me. But the memory of his hands on me, of the violence in his eyes when the darkness took hold, made the words die in my throat. As much as I loved him, I couldn't pretend he wasn't dangerous right now.
"I don't want to be alone," I whispered, the admission making me feel small and frightened. "I can't... I can't stop seeing his face when he almost..."
"You won't be alone," Jalend said immediately.
"We're all staying." I smiled up at him, loving the way he had just fitted into our strange group, despite his background being so different from everyone else’s.
How he accepted the other men, and how they seemed to have accepted him.
It comforted me knowing that if they had absorbed him into our little family, then surely, they would do the same with Taveth.
Surely, they would help me fight for him.
Antonius moved to the wardrobe, pulling out extra blankets. "We'll make it work. The bed's large enough, and frankly, I don't think any of us want to be apart right now."
He was right. The thought of any of them leaving, of facing the crushing weight of tomorrow's revelation alone, made my chest tighten with panic. I needed them all here, needed their strength and warmth to keep me anchored.
They arranged themselves around the large bed like guardians, each finding their place in the familiar choreography of our unconventional relationship.
Marcus pulled me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me protectively, while Antonius settled behind him.
Septimus laid on my other side, holding my hand as Tarshi curled up behind him.
Sirrax and Jalend pulled up the bigger chairs to the side of the bed, so they were close enough for me to see as I drifted off.
"How are you holding up?" I asked Tarshi softly, needing to know he wasn't bearing this alone.
He was quiet for a long moment, his fingers intertwined with Septimus's.
"He's been slipping away for days," he finally admitted.
"I've felt it through our connection—little pieces of him disappearing into the dark.
But I kept hoping..." His voice caught slightly. "I kept hoping we'd find another way."
"We still might," Antonius said, though we all heard the doubt in his voice.
"No," Tarshi said with painful honesty. "This is what he'll choose. I know my brother. The moment he learns he can save others, he'll volunteer. He'll see it as redemption for all the darkness he's carried."
Septimus turned I saw him press a gentle kiss to Tarshi's lips. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together. All of us."
The weight of their support, their unwavering loyalty, finally broke through the walls I'd been building around my heart.
The tears came suddenly and without warning—great, silent sobs that shook my entire body.
I wept for Taveth, lost somewhere in his own darkness.
I wept for the impossible choice we were about to give him.
I wept for Tarshi, who might lose his twin.
I wept for the future that seemed to be slipping away from us with every passing hour.
Marcus held me tighter, his voice a low rumble against my ear. "We've got you. Whatever comes next, we'll face it together."
"Always together," Antonius murmured, his hand finding mine in the darkness and squeezing gently.
They took turns offering quiet reassurances, their hands stroking my hair and back, their presence a steady anchor in the storm of my emotions. Slowly, gradually, their warmth and love began to seep through the cracks in my composure, not healing the pain but making it bearable.
Eventually, exhaustion began to claim us one by one. The emotional weight of the day, combined with the safety of being surrounded by the people I loved most, finally allowed sleep to take hold.
I woke hours later, disoriented and aching.
The room was dark except for the faint glow of dying embers in the fireplace.
Marcus was still behind me, his breathing deep and even, one arm still wrapped protectively around my waist. For just a moment, I let myself imagine that this was enough.
That we could stay like this forever, safe and whole and together.
“Livia? Are you ok?” Septimus’ voice was so low, I barely heard it, feeling the warmth of his breath on my face. I opened my eyes to see the slight shine of his eyes in the dark.
“It's hard to sleep, I just can’t stop thinking about everything,” I confessed softly.
I shifted slightly, careful not to wake Marcus, and found myself studying Septimus's face in the dim light. There was something comforting about his steady presence, the way he always seemed to know exactly what I needed without me having to ask.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked quietly.
He was silent for a long moment, and I could see him weighing his words carefully. "Honestly? I'm thinking about how much I want to kill him for what he almost did to you tonight. And then I hate myself for thinking that, because I know it wasn't really him."
The raw honesty in his voice made my chest tighten. "Septimus—"
"I know it's not his fault," he continued, his voice barely audible.
"I know he's fighting something none of us can understand.
But when I saw you on the floor, when I felt your terror through the bond.
.." His jaw clenched, and I could feel the tension radiating from him.
"I wanted to tear him apart with my bare hands. "
I reached up to touch his face, feeling the rough stubble along his jawline. "But you didn't. You helped save him instead."
"For you," he said simply. "Because you love him. Because losing him would destroy you, and I can't bear the thought of that."
I leaned forward and kissed him, my heart swelling suddenly at his words, remembering the boy he’d been, and how long he’d stood at my side.
“I love you so much, Septimus,” I whispered against his lips, and I felt him smile before he kissed me again.
The kiss deepened, and I felt some of the tension in my chest ease. This was what I needed—not just comfort, but connection. Proof that despite everything falling apart around us, we still had this. We still had each other.
Thoughts of the day melted away as Septimus shifted closer, pressing close to me, and I sighed at the familiar feel of his body against mine. His hand slipped into my hair, holding me close, his kiss unhurried.
"I love you too," he murmured against my mouth, his voice rough with emotion and something deeper. "More than you know."
His hands moved to the fastenings of my robe, fingers working with practiced ease despite the darkness.
I helped him, suddenly desperate to feel skin against skin, to lose myself in sensation that had nothing to do with shadow magic or impossible choices.
When the fabric fell away, I shivered—not from cold, but from the way his eyes traced over me in the dim firelight.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his hands skimming along my sides with reverent touches. "Even after everything tonight, you're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Septimus's mouth found the sensitive spot just below my ear, and I bit back a soft moan.
The last thing I wanted was to wake the others—this moment felt too precious, too necessary to share.
His lips traced a path down my throat, pausing to lavish attention on the pulse point at the base of my neck.