Chapter 18
Steam clung thick to the bathing chamber, curling low over the water and softening the harsh edges of stone and marble. The pools murmured, fed by unseen channels, their surfaces broken only by slow, lazy ripples that caught the amber light and fractured it into wavering patterns along the walls.
I slipped into the water, the heat closing around me, loosening muscles I hadn’t realized I’d been holding so tightly. It sank deep, slipping past my skin, easing the ache from my shoulders, my spine—the constant vigilance I carried like a second posture.
For a moment, I allowed myself to simply exist.
The servants kept to the edges of the chamber, practiced and silent, but the rustle of their movements grated against the fragile calm easing over me.
“Thank you. That will be all,” I said.
They paused, surprised, then dipped their heads and withdrew without question, the doors closing behind them with a muted finality. The stillness that followed felt earned.
It didn’t last.
Lucina. Sevrak. Decimus. Jorius. Thanor.
The names pressed in one after the other, dragging everything with them—threats, warnings, touches, looks—until it blurred into something shapeless and exhausting.
I let out a slow breath and leaned back against the smooth stone, letting the steam dull the edges of it all. Livia approached silently, her fingers slipping into my hair as she began to massage my scalp.
“I’m sorry I was gone all day yesterday. The medicus needed me,” she whispered.
“That’s alright. We had to go to the market,” I said, leaning subtly into her touch. “Was everything well?”
She hummed. “And you? Did you have a good day?”
“It was… eventful.”
Jorius’s warning flashed in my mind before I could say more. I had no reason to mistrust Livia—none—but the moment he’d spoken, something had shifted. The seed was there now, whether I wanted it or not. I cleared my throat.
“More than I care to recount. I don’t want to burden you with it. But there’s something I think you’d like to know.”
Her hands stilled.
I opened my eyes enough to catch her reflection in the steam-softened water. Her large olive-green eyes were fixed on me, her heart-shaped face thoughtful.
“Sevrak and Lucina. They’re breaking the rules. They were going at it in the storage room yesterday.”
Her breath caught.
“They realized I was there,” I continued. “And they didn’t take it well. Lucina made it very clear she isn’t afraid of me. She said she has Aelia’s ear.”
Livia swallowed before her fingers resumed their slow movement.
“I… I’d heard whispers,” she admitted. “From the other servants. That Sevrak stopped cornering them. Stopped prowling the cells the way he used to. At the time, I thought it was a blessing. Now I understand why. If he has regular access to Lucina…” She hesitated.
“Especially now that she and Vayren are no longer involved.”
A flicker of bitterness surfaced before I could stop it. I adjusted my position against the stone, forcing the feeling down.
I dragged my fingers through the water, watching the ripples spread. “Let’s talk about something other than that viper. Are you looking forward to Carnis Noctyra?”
“Very much! It’s my favorite festival. My father and I used to celebrate it in the market. We both love to dance. And Marcus makes a great affair of it as well. He insists it honors the goddess—and the system itself.”
“Yes, that seems like him.”
An image of Elion dancing in the square flashed in my mind, and I bit back a laugh. He’d never let himself go like that in public. Neither would I, unless there was a lot of wine involved.
“They say the Imperator funds everything,” she went on. “The kitchens prepare enough food to feed half the city, and barrels of wine arrive by the cartload. For one night, the Ludaryn opens its doors to everyone—servants, warriors, commoners. No one cares where you came from.”
“Are Bondwards allowed to join?”
“Of course! It’s meant to remind us that, for one evening, we all belong to the same world. We servants have to work hard to prepare, but afterward we’ll finally be able to relax.”
“That does sound like fun,” I said. One night to let go. No expectations. No one to judge me. Goddess knows I could use some time in the shadows.
A wistful note slipped into my voice. “I envy you for the memories you have with your father. Elion and I always stayed home. He did make a feast for us, but we never went into the market.” I glanced at her. “It would have been nice if you and I had known each other back then.”
The reflection of Livia’s face lit up in the water as she gathered my hair, drying it before she fastened it into the high ponytail I favored.
“Well,” she said lightly, “at least we do now.”
We lingered in the quiet a little longer before she left me to dress. By the time I joined the others, I felt stronger—ready to face whatever the day chose to bring.
Jorius and the twins were already seated at their usual places as I sat down for breakfast. For a while, it almost felt normal. I laughed more than I had in days, drawn into their easy humor. It gave the morning a deceptive softness, as though the day might pass without incident.
Jorius and Tavin drifted into a discussion about careless Bondwards, their voices half-amused, half-critical, settling into something distasteful.
Talia wrinkled her nose at something her brother said, cracked her knuckles, then swept the thick ebony locs from her face.
I stepped in before she could spiral into annoyance.
“So,” I said, “are you looking forward to the festival?”
“Absolutely. Back home, we celebrated properly. After the festival, you see—we had more coin than we could count.” A hint of pride entered her voice. “Our village specializes in corn and wheat. The Imperator buys our entire stock before the festivities.”
“Then you must be from Messara. Do you miss it?”
A faraway look came over her.
“Every day. Tavin and I used to run through the fields when we were young. They stretch so far our parents would panic if we disappeared too long.” A smile touched her lips.
“They’d search for hours. Sometimes for days.
But we never listened. We love to sleep beneath the stars.
Tavin makes a quick fire, and I’m the better hunter. ”
“That sounds lovely,” I said. “Your parents must look forward to seeing you both every month.”
She hummed. “They were proud when we received our piercings. We’re the only ones from Messara who didn’t end up with iron.” She glanced at me. “What about you? Any siblings?”
“No. My parents died when I was young. It’s just Elion and me.”
I smiled—but it didn’t quite reach.
“She’s got me, though.”
Jorius shot to his feet, ruffling my hair with no regard for the tie holding it in place. I rolled my eyes, but my smile came easier this time.
“That’s more of a curse than anything else,” Tavin added as he set a plate of food in front of us. Honeyed fruit, a piece of cheese and some bread. My stomach growled at the sight. I muttered my thanks before grabbing a grape and popping it into my mouth.
“To you, maybe,” Jorius shot back. “Tina appreciates a refined sense of wit.”
He winked and I shook my head, smiling as I absentmindedly reached for my water—
A high-pitched scream split the air. Livia.
She rushed toward me, striking the cup from my hand. It hit the floor with a sharp crack, rolling across the stone. Red liquid spread slowly across the surface.
Every Bondward turned to face us, shock visible on their faces. My pulse thundered.
Laughter rose from further down the table. Iris and Mira. Next to them Lucina said nothing as she stared at the liquid.
The silence that followed pressed in from all sides.
“What’s wrong with you?” Talia asked, staring at Livia with an odd look on her face.
Livia straightened as her cheeks slowly turned red. “It was a bug,” she replied quickly. “I didn’t want her to swallow it.”
But her voice carried something else—a warning.
I stared at the food in front of me. I’d already eaten one of the grapes. If it had been poisoned… I could only hope it wasn’t enough.
Jorius rose beside me without a word. We grabbed what we could from the table behind us. My appetite had left me entirely, but I grabbed a loaf of bread all the same.
Behind us, I heard Talia mutter something under her breath as we left. Her brother didn’t answer. But I felt his gaze linger, along with everyone else’s. We didn’t slow until we reached the courtyard.
“What happened?” I asked, turning to Livia.
“I told you I would bring your food,” she said, still breathless. “Tavin brought your plate—but not your cup, Tina.” She swallowed. “It was already there. You always sit in the same place.”
I stilled before turning to Jorius. “Did you see anyone?”
He shook his head, jaw working. “No. I’m sorry. I told you I would know if anyone was targeting you…”
“It’s not your fault,” I said quickly, taking his hand. “I’m not your responsibility.”
His features hardened—not in anger, but in resolve.
“I could have warned you about the man in the square, at the very least.”
“Jorius—”
He raised a hand. “Don’t. I can’t tell you how I know this. But listen carefully.” Something in his tone stilled me. “From now on, watch for hooded figures.”
I scoffed.
He glared at me as he continued. “Not just regular cloaks. Specifically men with black cloaks marked with a gray claw. They carry silver belts and oddly shaped daggers. If you see a dagger like that, or a cloak… you run. And you tell me. Immediately. And if I’m not there, at least go to one of the warriors. Even if it’s Vayren.”
“What—”
“Don’t push me,” he cut in. “I’ve already said too much.”
Silence stretched between us. Then, slowly, I nodded. This was the first time he’d opened up to us in the slightest and I wouldn’t jeopardize his trust by pressing him further.
Livia looked between us, her brows drawing together. “What man in the square are you talking about?”
I exhaled, forcing the tension from my shoulders. “Never mind him… you may have just saved my life. I owe you. You’re very perceptive.”