Septimus’s glare shifted to Marcus, but there was no real heat behind it. “Only because if you waited, the chunks of meat would all be gone.”
“‘Meat,’” Octavia said with exaggerated air quotes. “I’m still not convinced it wasn’t rat.”
“On good days, maybe,” I added, and suddenly we were all laughing — even Tarshi, whose rare smiles were usually reserved for private moments. The tension that had filled the room earlier dissipated somewhat, replaced by the simple camaraderie of shared hardship.
As we ate, the conversation flowed more easily. Marcus and Octavia wanted to hear about our journey to the Imperial City, while we were curious about their escape from the ludus during the attack.
“I didn’t think we’d make it,” Octavia admitted, refilling our cups with the watered wine. “The streets were chaos — rebels fighting imperial soldiers, buildings burning, people running in every direction.”
“Marcus got us through,” she continued, casting him a grateful look. “He knew which alleys to take, when to hide, when to run. We joined a group of refugees heading north and just... kept going.”
“Wasn’t as exciting as stealing a dragon,” Marcus said, his eyes finding mine across the table. “But it got us here.”
I felt heat rise to my cheeks at his steady gaze. “We did what we had to.”
“As did we all,” he replied softly.
An awkward silence fell until Septimus cleared his throat. “So, this plan of yours, Octavia. You really think you can turn Livia into a convincing noblewoman?”
Octavia straightened, clearly pleased to be asked. “With work, yes. She has the natural grace for it, and the right kind of beauty — unusual enough to be memorable, but not so exotic as to raise suspicions.”
“She’ll need more than beauty,” Tarshi said, his deep voice serious. “The nobles here are like a different species. They can smell an impostor.”
“That’s why we start now, with a full month to prepare,” Octavia countered. “And we focus on making her a provincial noble — they’re expected to be a bit rough around the edges. Less polished than court nobles.”
The conversation turned to the practicalities of our deception — what documentation we’d need to forge, what clothing would be appropriate, how I should speak and carry myself. To my surprise, Marcus and Septimus engaged enthusiastically with the planning, offering suggestions based on nobles they’d observed in the arena.
“You’ll need a family crest,” Septimus said, reaching for a scrap of paper and a stub of charcoal from a shelf. “Something distinctive but not too memorable.” He began to sketch, his artistic skill — something I’d forgotten about from our childhood — evident in the quick, sure strokes.
“And a family name,” Marcus added. “Something that sounds noble but isn’t well-known.”
“Cantius,” Octavia suggested. “It was the name of a minor noble house in the eastern provinces that died out a generation ago. Few would remember it now.”
“Livia Cantius,” I tried the name on my tongue. It felt strange, foreign, yet somehow right for this new deception. “Fifth daughter of…”
“Lord Cassius Cantius,” Octavia supplied. “And his wife, the late Lady Serena, who died shortly after your birth.”
I nodded, committing the names to memory. “And my reason for coming to the trials now, rather than earlier?”
“Your father kept you isolated out of grief,” Tavi suggested. “And perhaps fear of losing his last daughter to the dangers of the capital.”
“But he recently passed,” Tarshi added quietly. “Freeing you to pursue your own path.”
The simplicity and effectiveness of the story impressed me. “And my servants?”
“That would be us,” Septimus said, gesturing to himself and Tarshi. “Your loyal retainers who’ve accompanied you from your family estate.”
“And what about you and Octavia?” I asked Marcus. As my slaves, Tarshi and Septimus would live in the academy rooms with me, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to go another few weeks before seeing Marcus again now I had him back.
“We’ll remain here,” Marcus said. “Maintaining this safe house, gathering information, preparing for... after.”
After. The word hung in the air between us. After I infiltrated the academy. After I got close to the Emperor. After I took my revenge. What then?
“It could work,” I said finally, hope building in my chest despite the enormity of what we were planning. “With the gold, with all of us working together... it could actually work.”
“It will work,” Marcus said firmly, his confidence bolstering mine. “And whatever comes after... we’ll face it together.”
I looked around the table at these people who had, in different ways, become my family. Octavia with her practical wisdom and unwavering loyalty. Septimus, my childhood friend, complicated by his feelings for me but still standing by my side despite our differences. Tarshi, my unexpected lover, whose quiet strength had become my anchor. And Marcus, returned to me against all odds, still looking at me like I hung the moon and stars, as Octavia had said.
