“Every moment you spend among these vipers is dangerous,” he murmured. “How did the evening go?”
I told him about the dinner, the clear social hierarchy established by the seating arrangements, and Jalend’s unexpected choice to join our table.
“He sought you out?” Tarshi asked, his fingers absently tracing patterns on my arm.
“No, I don’t think so. He seemed to be deliberately avoiding the established nobles. Our table was simply the furthest from the centre of influence.”
“Yet he engaged with you specifically,” Tarshi pointed out. “Discussed philosophy with you.”
I hadn’t considered it that way. “He responded when I made an observation about the trials. It wasn’t personal.”
Tarshi made a noncommittal sound, his lips finding the sensitive spot below my ear. “If you say so,” he murmured against my skin. “But I’ve noticed how men look at you, Livia. Even when you were covered in arena dust and wearing leather armour. Now, dressed as a noble woman…” His kisses trailed down the side of my throat.
Desire pooled warm in my belly as his hands slid over the thin fabric of my sleeping garment. I wanted him — gods, how I wanted him. The way he touched me, as though mapping territories he intended to worship rather than conquer. But...
“Tarshi, wait,” I said, pulling back slightly. “I... we need to be careful.”
He withdrew immediately, hurt flashing across his features before he masked it. “Septimus,” he said flatly. Not a question.
I nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “He might come tonight. If he found you here…”
“He’d kill me,” Tarshi finished. “Or try to.” The bitterness in his voice cut deep.
“I’m just trying to protect you,” I said, reaching for him, but he stepped back.
“Is that what you’re doing?” His amber eyes searched mine. “Or are you protecting him from having to face what you really want?”
“That’s not fair,” I protested, feeling a flash of defensive anger. “You know how complex this situation is.”
“I know you’re sleeping with Septimus too,” he said quietly. “I’m not a fool, Livia.”
The words hung between us, heavy with unspoken emotions. I hadn’t explicitly told him about what had happened with Septimus earlier today, but Tarshi had always been perceptive.
“It’s complicated,” I finally said, hating how inadequate the words sounded.
“It always is with your kind,” he replied, then winced. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair either.”
I crossed my arms, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “You’ve never had a problem sharing me with Marcus,” I pointed out, my tone sharper than I’d intended.
Tarshi’s laugh held no humour. “Marcus treats me like a human being,” he said. “Septimus would cut my throat like a pig with little provocation. Can you see the difference?”
“Septimus is a good man,” I insisted. “He’s just... he needs time. He needs to get to know you, to see beyond the propaganda the Empire has fed him his whole life.”
“A good man,” Tarshi repeated softly. “A good man who would murder me for touching what he considers his property.”
“I’m not his property,” I snapped.
“No? Then why are you waiting for him tonight instead of taking me to your bed? Why are you sending me away?” His voice wasn’t accusatory — somehow that made it worse. There was a resignation in his tone that suggested he’d expected nothing different.
“It’s not that simple. We need Septimus for this mission to succeed. He has connections, information—”
“And you care for him,” Tarshi interrupted. “You don’t need to deny it, Livia. I’ve always known your heart has room for more than one person.” He sighed, running a hand through his short hair. Now he was no longer required to shave it, the tight curls grew a startling white against his ebony skin, another reminder that he wasn’t human.
“But you don’t want me to want him.”
“I just don’t think his heart has room for anyone but himself, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
The words stung because part of me feared he might be right. Septimus’s possessiveness had always bordered on obsession. Even his suggestion about sharing me with Marcus had come with conditions, with the clear implication that he would remain in control.
