Now that we were alone, I studied Livia more carefully. She looked tired, her face drawn, shadows beneath her eyes suggesting recent sleeplessness. There was a tension in her posture too, a subtle readiness that reminded me she had been trained as a warrior long before she became a dragon rider.
"Are you alright?" I asked, genuine concern overriding my usual carefully calibrated charm. "You look... troubled."
She attempted a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm fine. Just tired. It's been a long day."
I wasn't convinced, but I didn't press. We all had our secrets, after all. Mine were perhaps more consequential than most, but I had no right to demand hers.
"Well, tomorrow's a rest day for the festival," I said, falling into step beside her as we walked toward the dormitories. "You could use it to catch up on sleep."
"That's true," she agreed, though something in her tone suggested sleep was the furthest thing from her mind.
A wild, reckless idea struck me. "Or," I suggested, keeping my voice light, "you could come to my rooms instead. I'm told I provide excellent relaxation services."
The flirtation was automatic, a defence mechanism to hide my growing worry. But to my surprise and relief, Livia laughed—a genuine sound that momentarily erased the strain from her features.
"I'm not sure 'relaxation' is what would happen if I came to your rooms, Lord Northreach," she retorted, a spark of her usual spirit returning.
I clutched my chest in mock offense. "You wound me, Lady Cantius. I am the very soul of gentlemanly restraint."
"Is that what you call what happened in the stables?" she asked, one eyebrow raised in challenge.
Heat flared in my blood at the memory—her body pressed against mine, her soft gasps as I touched her, the way she hadtrembled when she came apart in my hands. Not for the first time, I wondered what it would be like to have her fully, to feel her beneath me, around me...
I cleared my throat, forcing my mind away from that dangerous path. "Actually, I believe that was a mutual abandonment of restraint," I countered, enjoying the blush that rose to her cheeks. "But my point stands. You should rest tomorrow. Recuperate."
"I wish I could," she said, the brief lightness fading from her voice. "But Octavia and I are planning to attend the festival. Neither of us has ever been, and they say it's quite the spectacle."
My stomach dropped. Of all the people in the capital, Livia was perhaps the last person I wanted anywhere near tomorrow's events. The thought of her in danger, caught in whatever trap the Empire was setting...
"The festival happens every year," I said, keeping my tone casual despite the sudden tension gripping my chest. "And it's always a crushing crowd, more noise than spectacle. You'd have a much better time elsewhere." I moved closer, my voice dropping to a suggestive murmur. "My offer of relaxation services still stands. I promise to provide entertainment far superior to watching sweaty peasants dance around a pole."
She laughed again but shook her head. "As tempting as that sounds—and it is tempting—I've made a promise to Octavia. We're going to explore the market stalls, watch the procession, maybe try some of those honey cakes everyone talks about."
We had reached the academy gates now, the torches flanking the entrance casting flickering shadows across her face. I looked at her—really looked at her—and was struck again by how beautiful she was, not in the carefully cultivated way of court ladies, but in a fierce, authentic manner that made those women seem like pale imitations of femininity.
And she was walking straight into danger.
I couldn't bear it. To hell with caution, with my promise to Santius, with the complex game of court politics and appearances. I took her hands in mine, feeling the calluses that spoke of her warrior training.
"Livia," I said, all pretence falling away from my voice. "Don't ask me how I know this, but please, don't go to the festival tomorrow. Something is going to happen—something dangerous. I can't explain more than that, but I'm asking you to trust me."
She stared at me, confusion and suspicion warring in her expression. "How do you know that?"
I shook my head, frustration tight in my chest. "I can't tell you. I wish I could, but I can't. Just... please. Stay away from the festival. Keep Octavia away too."
She was silent for a long moment, studying my face as if searching for some sign of deception. I met her gaze steadily, willing her to believe me, to heed my warning even without understanding its source.
"All right," she said finally, her voice soft. "I won't go."
Relief flooded through me, so powerful it made my knees weak. "Thank you," I said, squeezing her hands before releasing them. "I know it doesn't make sense, but—"
"You're right, it doesn't," she agreed, but her tone was gentle rather than accusatory. "But I trust you, Jalend. If you say there's danger, I believe you."
The simple statement of trust hit me with unexpected force. How long had it been since someone had trusted me simply because they believed in my character, rather than my rank or my father's power? I couldn't remember. Maybe it had never happened before.
"I'll check on you tomorrow," I promised. "Make sure you're not too bored without the festival excitement."
She smiled, a small, tired expression that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm sure I'll manage to entertain myself somehow."
