Chapter 24 #2
The firelight from the sconces flickered against the stone, casting long shadows as I descended toward the entrance. Marcus studied me, his expression softening.
“Everything will be alright… You look radiant, and this evening will be splendid. The Imperator and his wife will be present—such an esteemed gathering. It’s an honor for us to attend. Try to forget today and enjoy yourself.”
I nodded, my expression settling into a careful mask, everything else hidden beneath it.
Thanor waited near the carriage. He wore regal armor, striking in its simplicity.
His chest lay bare beneath black leather straps adorned with gold, crossing his skin in clean lines.
The gold contrasted with the silver ring in his ear.
A single shoulder plate, shaped like a saber, curved over him like a mark of rank.
No weapons—only fitted, plated trousers, dark and gilded, with black cloth woven through them so his attire mirrored my own.
We were meant to match. Meant to be admired together.
We stepped inside the carriage, and Marcus struck its roof once, signaling for it to move.
“I expect you both on your best behavior,” he said as the wheels began to turn. “Whatever is asked of you, whatever is required, remember that it is your duty to serve and provide. Though I am certain such an esteemed gathering would never ask anything dishonorable of you.”
He continued, launching into praise of the Imperator—his victories over the years, the favor he had bestowed upon the Ludaryn, the privilege of existing under his rule.
His voice faded into the background. My gaze fixed ahead, refusing to look at Thanor.
If I met his eyes, he would see it—the tears I was trying to hide, the resolve hardening inside me.
He always saw too much. I couldn’t risk that tonight.
Before I knew it, the carriage came to a halt, and my nerves peaked. Marcus stepped down first, smoothing his robes and giving us one final assessing look before schooling his expression back into practiced composure. Then he entered the Aedile’s villa.
I remembered standing here before—beside Elion, sheltered by his steady presence. Tonight, I stood without him. The protection offered by the man at my side would cost me too much to accept, and so I would survive alone.
The villa looked unchanged, its marble gleaming beneath torchlight, its pillars carved in needless grandeur.
Yet the atmosphere was different. The last time, I had seen excess—overflowing wine, loud laughter, banquet tables laden with indulgence.
Tonight, the splendor remained, but it was controlled.
The kind of exclusivity reserved for the city’s most powerful.
Servants greeted us, relieving Marcus of his cloak and placing goblets of wine into our hands before we could refuse. The gesture felt less like hospitality and more like preparation.
We moved through the halls toward the main chamber—the same room where I had endured the previous gathering. The air felt tighter this time. Quieter.
Marcus entered first, and Thanor stepped in ahead of me, as if he could shield me from whatever waited inside.
When he’d said he would risk everything for me, I hadn’t asked what that meant.
Would he have helped me escape? Would he have stood between me and Aelia…
or Decimus? Would he stop them from using me, hurting me…
The questions came too late. I had made my choice.
“Marcus. How lovely of you to join us.” Tyberion’s voice carried easily across the chamber as he welcomed us inside.
The room was arranged for indulgence—low, luxurious sofas curved around the space, draped in furs and fine linens, the fabrics spilling onto polished marble.
Fountains adorned each corner, their droplets striking the stone in scattered bursts of dark gold that almost resembled blood in the firelight.
Servants moved constantly through the chamber.
At the head of the room, elevated upon a broad podium, sat the Imperator and his wife.
The others were positioned around them—ornamental, reverent.
Cassara sat beside Aelia and her husband.
Decimus found me instantly. His eyes traced the earrings, the necklace, the collar at my throat.
Approval flickered there, as if I had worn them correctly.
Aelia’s stare was colder—her hatred obvious.
Cassara’s gaze dropped lower, pausing on the slit of my gown, on the fine golden chain resting against my thigh. Disdain tightened her mouth.
At the far end of the chamber stood a series of curtained alcoves built into raised platforms, their interiors concealed. Private spaces within the room. Those were places I’d have to avoid at all cost.
“Thank you, Tiberion. It is an absolute honor,” Marcus replied, offering a slight bow.
“Come, come. Bring your champion forward—and your Bondward. The Imperator is most eager to greet them. And admire them up close.” Tiberion gestured for us to follow.
Marcus nudged us ahead. I stepped into place beside Thanor, instantly aware of the tension rolling off him in controlled waves. I barely recognized him. He was entirely closed off—no trace of the fire he showed me in private. His eyes were empty, cold.
He looked the same as he had the last time I stood in this villa beside Elion, when strangers had touched him without invitation, when he’d been observed like something purchased rather than human. Now I understood. I was part of the display this time. An object arranged for admiration.
I drew a slow breath and let my expression still, smoothing away thought, smoothing away feeling. If I were to survive this night, I would have to wear the same mask.
The Imperator rose as we stopped before the podium. Marcus dropped to one knee without hesitation. Thanor followed with mechanical precision, and I mirrored him, lowering myself, forcing my pride down into something silent and obedient.
The Imperator looked every bit the ruler he claimed to be. A crown of golden serpents rested upon his gilded hair, his features strong and sculpted, as if loyalty and power had been bred into his blood for generations. A gold septum ring set with a single diamond gleaming beneath his nose.
Beside him stood Severa, radiant. The last time I’d seen her she wore silver, tonight she was draped in flowing gold silk that shimmered with each movement.
Her hair was styled immaculately, a slender crown woven through it, adorned with delicate serpent heads to match her husband’s, while a matching gold lip ring bearing an identical diamond caught my eye.
The Imperator made a small motion with his hand, bidding us rise. His robes rustled as he moved, carrying a distinct scent toward me. Something about it tugged at my memory. I knew I’d smelled it before, but I couldn’t place where.
“Sit, Marcus. And thank you for bringing such a fine specimen from your Ludaryn. You are truly the most remarkable Lanista Valystria has to offer,” he said.
As he spoke, he circled Thanor slowly, studying him with an odd look on his face. Thanor remained utterly still. They stood at equal height—impressive, considering he rose above most warriors.
Severa approached me, and I fought the urge to recoil. She reached out and gathered a lock of my hair between her fingers, testing its softness, studying my face with a gleam in her light eyes I didn’t trust.
“I agree, My Lord Imperator,” she said smoothly. “Exceptionally lovely.”
The Imperator stepped back into the center of the chamber and clapped his hands.
“Music, Tiberion. Let us make this affair a night to remember.”
At once, flutes and strings filled the air, the melody winding through the room as servants hurried forward to refill goblets and offer clusters of grapes to eager hands. We were placed at the back, positioned like we were statues.
I didn’t dare look at Thanor beside me, fearing even that small movement would draw attention. I wanted Decimus to forget me. I wanted Aelia and Cassara to keep their distance.
The hours stretched on, wine flowing freely as laughter rose and fell in measured waves. My legs began to ache from standing so still, the slit of my gown offering no comfort against the cool air. The music pressed in around me, and beneath it an unspoken tension coiled through the room.
Marcus spent most of the evening deep in conversation with the Imperator, leaning in as if each word were sacred. Across the chamber, Cassara, Severa, and Aelia whispered among themselves, their glances drifting toward me often enough to unsettle.
Every so often, I felt Decimus staring at me.
Yet even he seemed restrained tonight, the presence of the Imperator looming over everything like an unmovable weight.
The highest rank in Valystria was not to be challenged.
Still, when I caught Decimus glancing toward him, I didn’t see admiration.
I saw envy. And something dangerously close to fear.
The Imperator missed nothing. His pale skin and fair hair matched his blue-gray eyes, and those eyes returned to us again and again.
Each time his gaze passed over me, a flicker of familiarity stirred within me, faint but insistent.
He was assessing me. And once—just once—I was certain I saw something else. Confusion. Before it slipped away.
My breathing grew shallower as time stretched on.
The tears had dried, but the dread remained.
I was standing in a room filled with people who most likely wanted me dead.
One of them had already come close. The thought circled, tightening with each breath.
The one pulling the strings was likely here, among them, watching, waiting—and there was nothing I could do if they chose to act tonight.