Chapter 19
Dust drifted through the air as sunlight spilled in from the small window of the library, turning each floating particle to gold.
I could barely focus on the page before me, Secrets of the Lornwild lying open beneath my hands.
It was my favorite book. Elion used to read it to me as a child, his voice soft in the quiet of night.
This version remained untouched by Lunara fanatics or political influence, just a collection of children’s stories meant to invoke awe and tension in equal measure.
The pages spoke of the Starveil Lake behind the Bondward Shrine—of hidden ruins, winding caves, and treehouses woven high into ancient canopies.
Of silver-coated elks moving like ghosts through the forest. For now, it served as a welcome distraction.
Excitement stirred beneath my ribs at the thought of seeing Elion again tonight, impossible to fully contain.
A small smile kept threatening to surface, and I kept my head lowered, not wanting to draw attention to it or invite jealousy.
Being allowed to visit my family outside of protocol was already more than most were given.
So I kept to myself, tucked away for the day.
As I lost myself in the stories and Archivist Teralis rose to leave for lunch, the space slowly emptied until I was alone. My thoughts didn’t stay calm for long.
Tonight, I’d be able to judge Elion’s condition for myself. Afterward, I would plan our escape. I refused to think about what I’d had to do to see him. My morals, once steady, had begun to erode.
Thanor’s presence wore at me. The violence woven into every corner of the Ludaryn did the rest. It no longer shocked me the way it should have.
And the longer I remained, the greater the chance someone would succeed in ending me.
Not for who I was, but for what I represented.
Proximity to the champion. Something to be taken from him.
The only ones I suspected of Cassius’s and Nexra’s murders were Lucina and Sevrak. They were certainly trying to end me. But still, the killings had begun even before I arrived. There were too many possibilities.
Maybe Lucina had poisoned my water, but her expression this morning hadn’t suggested it.
And what reason would she have to kill Cassius or Nexra?
Her hatred seemed entirely focused on me.
Or perhaps Aelia was behind it. The man at the market could have been her servant, or a mercenary hired at her command.
Had he been one of the men Jorius warned me about?
I couldn’t remember the color of his cloak.
My thoughts then turned to Decimus. He had reason to want Thanor dead—but not me.
As their faces flashed before me, one after the other, unease pressed in. I was surrounded by enemies. I sighed, my shoulders slumping. Luckily, footsteps broke through the self-pity.
I looked up as Tavin entered the library. Surprise flickered across his face when he saw me—brief, but unmistakable. For once, his other half wasn’t at his side.
He gave a small nod before retreating to a seat in the corner, folding in on himself in a way that didn’t suit him. But then again… people learned to wear masks here.
It was why Jorius and Livia were the only ones I still allowed myself to trust, despite the secrets they were so obviously keeping from me. They both kept disappearing in the evenings, and more often than not, I couldn’t find them.
I returned to my book, determined not to dwell on it. I couldn’t afford to let suspicion cost me my friends. But a familiar sensation stirred within me. Subtle at first. Then persistent.
Eyes on me.
When I glanced up, I caught Tavin staring. He looked away immediately. It happened again. And again. A breath left me as I closed the book, the distraction no longer holding.
One of these days, I’d swear off men entirely. Peace was not something they seemed capable of offering.
“Enjoy your reading,” I said, offering him a small smile.
He only gave me an odd look in return. I raised a brow but didn’t linger. Without Talia, he wasn’t pleasant company. Or perhaps just… different. Quieter.
As I turned the corner, a guard stepped in front of me.
“Bondward Valentina. You have been summoned. Meet Marcus outside.”
My stomach dipped, then steadied as my smile returned, brighter this time.
Marcus was already waiting when I stepped out, a carriage prepared behind him. The sun hung low, casting the street—and the looming walls of the Ludaryn behind us—in a soft golden glow. Sand and stone shimmered beneath my feet, brushed with light.
I had chosen a simple green dress, leaving my leathers behind.
The fabric fell easily against my skin, light enough to move in without thought.
I needed to appear as nonthreatening as possible—harmless, even.
Marcus had been fair with me so far, measured in his dealings, but I would give him no reason to doubt my compliance.
No cause to suspect that escape had already begun to take shape in my mind.
“Good evening, Marcus,” I said warmly, allowing him to take my hand as I stepped into the carriage.
The interior smelled of wood and oil, the space close but comfortable. He followed, settling across from me with a stern expression on his face.
“Valentina,” he began, his tone courteous but edged with authority, “thank you for joining me. I should remind you that this visit falls outside the regular rules. I will indulge you this once—out of consideration for your uncle, and for the abrupt manner in which you were brought here. But do not test the rules again. They exist for a reason.”
The words were delivered calmly, as one might instruct a servant rather than a peer. I dipped my head, keeping my expression open. “Thank you for your patience. And for making this exception. I understand the weight of the rules you uphold, and I am grateful for your consideration.”
Outwardly, I was all deference. Inwardly, a frown settled.
He spoke as if this decision had been his alone, as though his order still reigned unchallenged.
But we both knew the truth. He hadn’t been given a choice, not when I had maneuvered the Praetor into granting this visit.
His rules were rigid, yes, but they bent easily in the hands of men like Decimus—sleek, patient, and opportunistic as eels slipping through stone.
I’d been in the Ludaryn for nearly two weeks now. In that time, I’d learned Marcus clung to control and structure, believing they were unassailable. Men like Decimus proved otherwise. For once, I’d been able to use the Empire’s unfairness in my favor.
The carriage lurched as the horse was set into motion, wheels rolling over stone worn smooth by centuries of passage.
Candlelight flickered past the narrow windows, flames guttering in iron brackets as the Imperial Quarter opened itself around us.
At night, the city felt older somehow—timeless.
Voices murmured in the distance, low and indistinct, and somewhere a fountain trickled.
It was almost romantic. If one didn’t know better.
Marcus leaned back once the carriage found a steady pace. “How is Kharos? I’ve been meaning to ask your opinion. You’ve spent quite a lot of time tending to him now.”
I folded my hands in my lap. “He’s holding his strength well. His recovery is quick, his endurance consistent. I’m glad he’s accepted me so easily.”
He hummed. “I knew Vayren and Kharos would be a good fit for you. I’m glad you accepted my judgment.”
My nails pressed into my palms. I swallowed my reply.
The carriage turned, the sway drawing my gaze toward the narrow opening beside me.
Torchlight traced arches and columns beyond the slatted wood, stone layered upon stone, history stacked so high it felt as though the city might collapse beneath its own weight.
The Imperial Quarter really was beautiful. The golden-pierced were lucky. They probably didn’t even know it.
“I’m curious,” Marcus said. “Your magic, combined with Vayren’s.
” He glanced at me, interest sharpening.
“If the tether between you proves… compatible, the results could be extraordinary. Kharos might reach a level of strength we have not seen before. Vibius told me you have not felt anything forming between you yet. Are you trying hard enough?”
“I’m giving it everything I have.”
“Good. If you need advice regarding Vayren, my office is always open to you. He is not like the others. There is a reason he rose quickly.”
That caught my attention at once.
“Why do you say that?”
He stared outside the window. “He was the only one left standing in the Maw, even though he was the youngest. He was meant to die. His parents—I’ve never met them—but the Imperator made it clear that under no circumstance should Vayren survive.
So he was thrown in with fully trained enlisted.
He had never even met Kharos… but they endured.
Not a scratch on them. Against all odds, they were victorious. ”
His voice remained even, but something more somber edged beneath it.
“The Imperator had no choice but to obey the crowd. They chanted his name. So he was given into my care, despite not being fully trained. He has been in the Ludaryn since he was ten. Most only enter as adults.”
“What was he like?”
“Mad with anger,” Marcus said. “He fought every command. Kharos alongside him. Both of them feral. It took Gaius and me years to shape them into what they are now.”
The image formed unbidden—of a boy and a saber thrown into the Maw beside warriors far older, with no understanding of what awaited them.
The Imperator had thrown a child to die.
So much for Lunara’s balance. Thanor had endured more than I’d allowed myself to consider.
Perhaps I had judged him too quickly. He’d likely never been given the chance to be anything else.
“Do you know why the Imperator wanted him dead? I must admit I am surprised to hear it. He seems to love how he ignites the crowd.”