Chapter 17 #2
Talia’s voice drifted after me, but I didn’t answer.
I hurried through the Atrium without slowing, the familiar space offering no comfort now.
The stone corridors beyond felt colder than usual, the quiet pressing in where noise might have softened the edges of my thoughts.
By the time I reached Jorius’s door, doubt crept in—but I ignored it and knocked. It opened almost immediately.
Jorius blinked when he saw me, surprise flickering across his face before it eased into something warmer, easier.
“You look like someone who’s had enough of today,” he said lightly, stepping aside to let me in. “Come.”
I didn’t argue. I slipped past him into the quiet of his chamber, the door closing behind me with a muted click.
The air inside was calm, carrying that faint scent of citrus and clean linen that was unmistakably his.
He moved across the room without a word, pouring water into a cup before filling another and handing it to me.
I took it, only then realizing how unsteady my hands were.
“Jorius, I’m s—”
“Tina—I’m sorry.”
We both stopped. For a second, we merely stared at each other.
Then, almost at the same time, we laughed—low and a little breathless, the tension breaking all at once. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. Our Bondward leathers creaked against one another as I held on a little longer than necessary, tears slipping from my eyes.
“Let’s not fight again,” I murmured.
“Agreed,” he said, his voice low. “Finding another person willing to tolerate me sounds exhausting.”
I smiled as he pulled back, his hands settling briefly on my arms.
“Let’s just… go back to how things were. Alright?”
I nodded. “I’d like that.”
A small silence settled between us.
“So,” he said after a moment, tilting his head, “how are you? I didn’t see you this morning.” His mouth curved. “You or Vayren.”
I exhaled slowly, leaning back against the edge of the table.
“Well… angry as I was, I made him wait. For over an hour.”
“That’s cruel,” he said, a wide grin on his face. “I approve.” He sat down on his bed, padding the spot beside him. “So? Was it worth it?”
“Let’s not talk about Thanor,” I cut in quickly, sitting down on a chair instead. I lifted my cup as if that might deflect the entire subject. “I’ve had enough of him for one day.”
His expression shifted—not entirely serious, but no longer amused.
“Something happened. Didn’t it?”
Heat crept up my neck, and I looked away.
“You can tell me. I don’t mind. After we parted yesterday, I found my own way to… unwind.”
He gave me a knowing look. I groaned. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Well, that’s where we differ,” he said, amused. “I want to know everything.” He lifted his cup. “That’s what friends are for.”
“Alright. If you’re sure…”
I bit my lip as I told him what happened. He listened without interrupting, though the look on his face shifted more than once, somewhere between interest and barely concealed amusement. By the time I finished, he shook his head slowly, his gaze flicking over me with unmistakable mischief.
“So,” he said slowly, “did you discover how impressive his reputation is when he’s… motivated?”
I shot him a flat look. “You’re unbearable.”
He laughed, completely unbothered.
“I’m curious. Entirely different thing.” He raised his hand in mock surrender. “But I’ll take that as a yes.”
Despite myself, I felt something in my chest loosen. The edge of the day dulled just enough to breathe again. I set my cup aside. “All jokes aside… something else happened.”
The humor dropped from his expression as he straightened. “Tell me.”
“A man bumped into me at the market. Near the fountain. It was crowded, I didn’t think anything of it at the time.”
“But he slipped poison into my satchel.”
He swore under his breath and pushed off the bed.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Thanor caught it before it could do any harm.” My jaw tightened. “And now he’s convinced that proves I can’t handle myself. That I need watching. Next time we leave the Ludaryn, I doubt I’ll even get the illusion of freedom.”
“You’d be wise not to provoke him further,” he said. “Giving in will cost you both more than you think. Marcus isn’t gentle when his rules are broken.”
“I know,” I said immediately. “It’s just… he’s… I couldn’t help myself.” I drew my shoulders back and stared at the floor. “But I’m not something to be owned. I don’t want what he’s pursuing—and I won’t belong to anyone just because they’ve decided I should.”
He studied me for a moment, then nodded, accepting that without argument.
“There’s more,” I added. “I overheard an elderly couple talking near the fountain. They mentioned a rebellion. Do you know anything about it?”
Something in him stiffened, but it was gone before I could study it.
“No more than anyone, I suppose. It’s good you came to me about this. Don’t speak of it anywhere else. Not even around Livia.”
“What? Why not?”
“Just… trust me on that. If the guards overhear you, it’s a one-way trip to the Maw.”
Now I had even more questions. Why couldn’t I tell Livia? I was just supposed to trust him. It felt wrong. He was wrong.
After a moment he spoke. “Elion never mentioned it to you?”
“No. Never.”
“Then you know as much as everyone else—and that isn’t much. There’s been an uprising these past years. Quiet. Organized. No one knows where they operate from or how they move. They’re unpredictable. And very effective.”
He studied me as I drank. “Merchants. Senators. Patrons. Some disappear entirely. Others are taken—and no one speaks of them again. They say the movement is led by a woman. Uncatchable and ruthless. The Imperator has tasked the Praetor with ending it,” he continued, a faint edge returning to his tone. “That’s all I’ve heard.”
He pushed a hand through his hair before he fixed on me, his eyes sharp.
“You should be careful. Curiosity like yours… has a way of getting you killed.”
“Of course,” I muttered dryly. “Just another way to die. At this point I might as well walk around with a target painted on my forehead. The list is getting long enough that I’ve stopped keeping track.”
His mouth curved, the tension easing slightly.
“Don’t look so grim,” he said. “We’ve got something to look forward to.”
“Oh?” I raised a brow.
“Carnis Noctyra.” His eyes lit with familiar mischief. “It’s almost here.”
I laughed despite myself. Of course that was what he chose to focus on. I’d forgotten all about it, considering everything.
Carnis Noctyra—the one night Valystria abandoned restraint.
Wine flowed without limit, tables laden with rich food steeped in exotic spices, every corner of the city wrapped in secrecy and indulgence.
Masks hid faces and blurred status, men and women dressed as gods and temptresses alike, devotion and desire tangling together until no one could quite tell where ritual ended and revelry began. If nothing else…
It promised distraction.