I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the positive feedback I've gotten. Its been great hearing that you guys enjoy the story even if the fan base is so small (especially since it's exam time and I'm way too stressed out!). I even enlisted the help of one of my friends to create an actual cover for this story so eventually it will have a nice official cover. I'm interested to know if you guys think I should continue the story after the official sequel comes out or if I should start a new one after that. Ether way I enjoy writing these characters and this world too much to just end it. Let me know your guy's thoughts and thanks again!

V: Helene

The amber glow of the dying afternoon sunlight used to be my favourite time of day. Mostly because it meant lessons were over for the day and we were free to roam about. Some guys even snuck off during these hours to visit the docks. Not Elias. We would roam around for hours, sometimes skipping a meal at Blackcliff in favour of locally bought food in the city. Our favourite spot was just outside the academy walls on a ledge looking out over the landscape. If you had looked to your left you would have seen the tumbling sand dunes of the desert and the sand dune mountains in the distance. To your right was the city of Serra, and past that, the shimmer sea. Elias would always sneak food out there for us and we would sit on that ledge for hours wondering about what was far beyond. It was our spot and only ours. I'd never longed for freedom then, as I now know Elias had, but I do now. Not once have I visited that spot since his leaving and I don't plan to.

Now, after all that has happened, the fading afternoon is my least favourite time. Marcus has a knack for summoning me at that same time; at least he has been for the past few days. Maybe it's because he knows this time used to belong to only Elias and I, or maybe he just happens to enjoy interrogating his rivals in the warm glow of the setting sun. Either way I despise him for it.

His back is to me when I enter the council room - the room he had created just for his own personal meetings. It's set up in one of the old forgotten rooms in the amphitheater. Its window stretches unending along the length of the far wall. In this time of day the fading sun just barely reaches over the Blackcliff walls, eliminating the Bell Tower in a yellow glow.

"Aquilla." I was purposefully walking in loudly so I knew he would hear me.

"Marcus," I snap back. His back tights making the dark fabric of his shirt ruffle and he answers without turning his body from the window.

"That's Emperor to you." His face reflected in the glass is the same expression he held after training practices. He's angry; very angry. His eyebrows are drawn tight as if someone has come along and sewn them together. This is going to go great, I think sarcastically.

I keep my voice light, innocent, even though I'm far beyond that. "What have you summoned me for today?" I considering adding 'master' at the end but I'm not that low. And Marcus is as far from a master as I am to a house wife.

I can see his smirk in the reflection. He knows what game I'm playing. "It seems your boyfriend has managed to escape the city." My heart drops and I simultaneously feel relief and dread.

"He's not my boyfriend," I mutter through clenched teeth. It sounds like a lie.

Marcus turns around from the window. He has his hands tucked behind his back and he almost looks professional, if you ignored the obviously too tight shirt that he's wearing. Maybe he's trying to compensate for something. "Who would want to court you anyway?"

I scoff. This is a child's fight. I contemplate bringing up the fact that his brother wanted to court me, numerous times, but decide I'm not that cruel.

"What do you what," I mutter trying not to sound like his comment got to me

Marcus, arms crossed, frowns making his eyebrows curl up weirdly. Then he steps the few feet separating us and takes my chin is his hand, tipping my head so I'm forced to look at only his face. His hand is rough and it scratches against my skin. I want badly to get away from him, and I could with one easy swipe at his knee, but instead hold his steady gaze. He's not worth the fight. "Now now, buttercup." Maybe I am that cruel. "We've got other things to discuss before we get to that."

Then what was the point of mentioning Elias at all, I almost ask. But I know the answer: to get a reaction.

"Then talk."

Marcus glares. He was expecting more. He drops my chin and pulls a hand out from behind his back to gestures to the chairs set out in front of his overly large desk. Red cloth, dark oak. Even his chairs are obnoxious. I choose the one farthest for him. When I'm properly seated Marcus turns back to the window.

"I thought we were going to talk."

He tilts his head back to look at me and then, with a look of defeat - or maybe annoyance - walks over to the desk. The desk itself is surprising clean. Not a single paper lays scattered about. Even the quill pens are neatly arranged in a line along the top. A maid, I wonder. He sits down behind the desk, places his hands on the top of the wood and leans forward to stare at me. His expression reads clear as day: He's dreading this chat.

"The Emperor is expected to bear an heir, as you know," He mutters, "even if the line of succession doesn't not remain in the family."

My mouth is dry and my hands have turned clammy. Where is he going with this? "I know."

Marcus nods then continues. "Good." He glances down at the lines of pens and his fingers twitches as if he wants to pick one up and fiddle with it. "It has been," he pauses looking for the right word, "pointed out to be that you be a good choice for the task."

I choke on my own spit. The task? Bile tickles its way up my throat at the thought of... that. My hand clenches in a fist and before I know what I'm doing I'm up and around the desk, a knife to his throat. Anger burns for the tips of my fingers and I swear flames have erupted in my eyes. I want nothing more than to end his despicable life now.

"I am not a fucking choice to be made," I spat. The blade digs into his skin. It feels powerful knowing I could end him right here right now. "I am not an object to be used to your advantage, much less to bear your distinguishing off spring!"

"But you are." He's calm. It makes me want to punch him more. "You swore loyalty to me."

"I swore loyalty to the Empire!"

"I am the Empire!" Marcus's vice suddenly bellows across the room sending my bones rattling under my skin. He grabs at my loose writs and twists until I hear a snap and the blade drops to the floor. "There is no Empire without me." He's out of the chair behind the desk, bent over my form to roar in my face. There isn't too much of a height difference between us, but I feel as if I am a toddler next to him now.

My mouth is dry and I barely get the words out. "I won't. You can't make me." I immediately regret the latter. His eyebrow tips.

"Is that a challenge?" My skin crawls. I want out of this room; I want to get as far away from him as possible.

"Fuck you." Stupid, once again.

"You obviously don't know me as well as I thought you did." He tips his chin up, forcing my head up higher as I refuse to break his stare. I'm too far in this now to back down. "I expected more for you."

I smirk in spite of him. "I expected more from you, Emperor. The leader of a nation should be commanding, not heartless."

Marcus's eyebrows untwist. His shoulders un-tense and he smiles the cruelest smile I ever seen. Its ahs if he has been waiting for me to say that. He leans down close enough that I can smell the liquor and smoke on his breath. "You should only despise those with a human heart. They're the ones to be fearful of."

He tugs on the braid running down my back and I have the urge to run for the door. The smell of alcohol and smoke is still enveloping my senses. It makes me gag. "I only loathe you."

Marcus smiles like it's the most natural thing in the world to be told you are hated. Maybe it is for him. I turn on my heel to leave, but Marcus grabs at my shoulder and pushes me back until I'm pressed against the bookshelf, his arm across my neck. Shit. I let out an innocent laugh and glance at the books that got knocked to the floor out of curiosity. One lies on top of a pile, its worn brown cover and gold lettering dully shinning. 'Prophetias magica.' The Prophecies of Magic. My heart nearly stops its movement. Staring at it brings back the hours of singing next to Elias's bed, slowly watching the wounds close and never stopping the music until my throat was too dry to even speak. Then there was the slave girl. She had been far worse than Elias, the skin barely hanging on her bones in some areas. Her wounds had closed just as quickly. Power shimmers through my finger tips just looking at the cover. All the secrets it must hold. All the power…. I realize I have been staring far too long.

"I didn't know you could read," I mutter quickly. I tilt my head, giving him access to the end of the braid again. He smirks, tugging on my hair, not picking up on the obvious distraction.

"Like I said," he states. "You don't seem to know me all that well. Perhaps we should change that." He almost, almost, sounds enduring.

Bile crawls up my throat and I push it back down again. "I can't say I'm too interested in that." His arm tightens around my throat. Shit. I can't risk pissing him off too much, nor can I be too distant or else there's no chance of sneaking back in here to get that book if he has me being followed.

His lips brush my ear when he leans down to talk. It's a disturbingly intimate position. "Perhaps you'll reconsider my offer."

This time I nearly do throw up, but I'm saved by the slam of the chamber doors being thrown open. No servant would dare open the door, much less that dramatically, without knocking. I already know who it is before they talk.

"It seems I have interrupted something private," The Commandant snarls as Marcus with drawls himself from me. My muscles loosen and I breathe in much needed oxygen. Her face is hard as stone, the silver mask long since settled into all the grooves of her face, yet no emotion shows through. Heat rises to my neck when her eyes skim over me. It's as if I'm a school being caught out of class with a boy. Pathetic, I think.

"No matter," Marcus says. In an instant his entire domineer had changed. He glanced back at me then nodded his head over to the far side of the room where they could talk without being interrupted. Instead of following suite the Commandant raises a hand to him then walks towards me. Not only was I in terrible state since that Marcus encounter, now I had the Commandant ready to interrogate me.

"Aspirant Aquilla."

"It's Blood Shrike." Her eyebrow twitches.

"So it is." She shots a look back at the Emperor. "I wonder, are you aware of the betrayal of Veturius?" I nearly scoff at her.

"How could I not be?" She doesn't take my sarcasm well.

"I see," She snaps. The Commandant pulls back her cloak ever so slightly so that the blade strapped to her hip shimmers. She's trying to show her danger. The only problem is I outrank her now. "I'd think the Emperor would have sought out some form of punishment, for being associated with that traitor. Perhaps he should have even found himself a new -."

"Are we done here," I ask looking around her small shoulder to Marcus who showed no sign of being surprised, or even annoyed. No one ever dared to interrupt the Commandant. When I steal a look back at the women her eyes are flames and her thin lips pressed in a thin line.

She howls, "You foolish, idiotic -."

"If we are done I wished to be dismissed. I have other things to attend to," purposefully adding that last bit to watch her nostrils flare at all the thought of what things a young female might go out and do. The Commandant doesn't say another word. Instead she tilts her chin up and stalks back toward Marcus. She knows I've won, she knows that I'm untouchable unless Marcus says otherwise. And he wouldn't dare let anyone go after me now, not with the favour he is requesting of me.

"You should consider thinking about who is loyal to you, and who is only here for the humor of it," she stares back at me. Marcus's face reveals nothing. He only motions to the door where they step out in the corridor to talk alone.

When the door slams shut I scurry over to the pile of books and gently pick up the one of a worn spine and gold lettering. 'Prophetias magicae.' It's been a long while since I have read Latin, but I have no doubt that that is what it says. Some deep part of me aches to burn the book and all its secrets, but the part of me that desires to read it cover to cover is much stronger. I swore I'd never think about the power I held, the magic that ran through my veins, but now that the answer is so close its impossible not to. As silent as a falling feather I tuck the book back on the shelf and memorize its location for when I return. Instead of leaning back against the book shelf, or even taking a seat in the obnoxious chair, I perch myself on top of a desk.

Marcus and the Commandant walk back in, faces blank, to see me cleaning nonexistent dirt from under my fingernails with a blade. The Commandant approaches me and I don't try and hid my smirk. "Yes?"

Her nose flares. I never thought pissing off the Commandant would be so easy, or fun. She takes a deep breath, like I'm an immature child she had been forced to deal with, and then says, "Training day tomorrow. You will be at the Secondary Training field at high noon."

"And if I refuse?" They flare more.

Marcus bellows behind her, "She will be there." I raise an eyebrow at him but don't object. I take that as my clue to leave. The Commandant nostrils are still flared while I jump off the desk and head for the door, bypassing Marcus. He grabs my arm as I go and I almost see a proud expression on his face, but it's gone as soon as I see it. "Do I need to question your loyalties?"

My gaze lands on the Commandant. She's leaning against the desk. She's so much more petite than I ever thought. "You tell me." I should be anxious of his reaction, but strangely enough I feel powerful against him. He seems to pick up on this.

"You're my second," He growls low enough that the Commandant can't hear. Marcus quickly glances at the women now leaning against his desk, then he pulls me back until I'm pressed against the door, his hands on my arms. It doesn't feel threatening, the way he's acting. "We aren't done with our discussion." I know he's talking about Elias.

"I guess I'll see you at tomorrow then, same time?" I don't wait for him to answer before I twist away and pull the door open. I slip through without a sound. I'm done being shoved into walls by him. It's only when I'm down the corridor before I realize had had pressed me against the door because he was adamant about the Commandant not hearing us. He didn't want her coming after me about Elias. But did he do it for me or him?