Page 107 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
“I know what you did,” Marcus seethes, tightening his grasp on his robes. “I know you sent Dru to her death.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking?—”
Marcus tightens his grip and speaks through his teeth. “Don’t. Lie. To me.”
Face reddening, he finally chokes out, “She murdered a high-ranking senator in the Imperium, a friend of mine. That girl deserved to die.”
Marcus’s lip curls. “Unfortunately for you, she lived. But your lion wasn’t so lucky.”
Fear widens his gray eyes. “Deus auxilium.”
“Your gods can’t help you now,” Marcus growls.
“Marcus,” Alessandra calls to him.
He ignores her. “If it were up to me, I’d kill you where you stand. But you’re not worth starting a war over.” He leans in closer to the sacerdos. “You’re going to leave Anziano today. I don’t care how, but I’ll escort you over the Mercato Bridge myself if necessary.”
“Praetor Marcus!” the regina vedova barks at him.
Maintaining his grip, he glances over his shoulder to find a Phaedran man he’s never seen before holding a knife to Alessandra’s ribs, one thrust away from stabbing her in the heart. His tunic barely clings to his boney frame, and his dark eyes are sunken in, the hand holding the knife trembling.
His vengeance dissipates.Deodamnatus, I should’ve stayed at her side.
Cold fear sweeps down Marcus’s spine, spurring him into action. He releases Sacerdos Matteo; the holy man crumples to the ground and scrambles back into the corner. Turning on his heel, Marcus takes a step toward the other man?—
“Stay where you are.” His soft voice quivers. “Or I’ll carry out the order I was given and kill her.”
The Imperium’s order, no doubt.Marcus holds out his hands, trying to decide whether or not he has enough time to reach for the sheathed dagger at his hip and throw it before the man can make a move. “Let’s not?—”
A strange twang cuts him off. The man’s eyes roll into the back of his head before he collapses to the ground.
The bard stands behind him, lute held high over his head, chest heaving.
Marcus blinks, certain he’s imagining things. Yet the bard remains, the lute quaking in his grip.
Straightening, Marcus approaches the would-be assassin. He places the bottom of his sandal on the man’s cheek and pushes it to the other side. Mouth hanging open, he doesn’t stir.
“Well done,” Marcus commends, and the bard’s eyes brighten, a smile stretching across his lips. “Now go find one of my men.”
He nods seriously, slinging his instrument over his shoulder and running out of the tabernae.
Once he’s gone, Marcus regards Alessandra. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She pushes out her chin, though her voice wobbles slightly. “I knew something like this would happen. The Imperium will do anything and everything to hurt my son, including going after the people he loves.”
He steels himself, channeling his anger more productively now. “Don’t worry, this won’t go unpunished.”
The bard returns with one of his guards, Nico, who glances between Marcus, the unconscious assassin, and the sacerdos in the corner. His eyes widen once they find Marcus again.
“Arrest this one”—Marcus points to the man on the floor—“and take him to the holding cell in the arena barracks. Then meet me outside the palace with another guard and two horses.”
Nico procures the irons from his belt and kicks the assassin over so that he flops onto his stomach. Yanking back his arms,he locks them in place and hauls him to his feet, lifting him over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
Marcus turns back to the sacerdos. Standing once more, he grasps his quivering hands together. The dirt from the tavern floor has sullied his red robes, the fabric partly twisted at the throat from Marcus’s grip.
He holds up his hands. “I’ll come peacefully.”
They walk out of the tabernae together, close enough the holy man can’t escape but far enough apart they won’t arouse suspicion. Alessandra and the bard walk in front of them; the old queen murmurs something in the bard’s ear, and he smiles. Marcus hates to admit it, but Alessandra wouldn’t be alive if not for the bard intervening. A modicum of trust and respect takes root in his mind.
