Page 108 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
Marcus plans not to say a word to the blasphemous sacerdos until he opens his mouth.
“I suggest killing the man who tried to assassinate Regina Vedova, and soon. Legatus Ambitus will do far worse to him if you leave him alive tonight.”
Instead of divulging to Matteo that the assassin is too valuable for him to die yet, Marcus says, “I’m not going to take advice from a man who failed to kill their own intended victim.”
Sacerdos Matteo doesn’t respond.
Rage continues to race through his veins as they make their way to the palace in silence. Everything in him wants to fatally stab the sacerdos and leave him to bleed out in the street. But he can’t. Not when he’s a welcome guest of Cato’sanda Phaedran holy man.
Like he told the sacerdos, Marcus refuses to be the reason the Imperium wages war against Anziano.
Climbing the steps to the outskirts of the olive grove, he finds two of his men on horseback waiting for them. Nico dismounts and places a set of irons around Sacerdos Matteo’s wrists. He doesn’t struggle as Nico helps him onto his horse, and then gets into position behind him so he can’t escape.
Sacerdos Matteo juts out his chin. “You’re going to regret this. The Imperium won’t take kindly to you exiling their holy man.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Marcus concedes. “I have no doubt I’m going to regret not killing you the moment I found you in the tabernae. You’ll do well to remember my mercy.”
He regards Nico. “Take him to the bridge and leave him there. He can find his own way to Phaedra.”
Watching them until they pass through the olive grove and meet with the main road out of Anziano, he catches up to the bard and Alessandra as they enter the palace.
The physician passes them, his head down. Marcus fights the urge to stop him and ask how Dru is, or to go straight to her room. But not until he tells Cato what happened.
He finds the king floating on his back in the pool with his eyes closed. Having not changed out of his attire from the arena, he taints the water with blood and dirt and oils.
“Already back from your ill-fated attempt at revenge, Marcus?” Cato asks, keeping his eyes shut. “Dru told me.”
Marcus crouches at the pool’s edge. “I took my small bit of revenge and threw the Imperium’s sacerdos out of Anziano. But your mother was nearly assassinated.”
Cato’s eyes wrench open, and he flails in the water, sputtering. “Che cazzo, what do you mean she wasnearlyassassinated? Where is she?”
Marcus points behind him, where she’s in deep conversation with the bard.
“She’s unharmed, if not a little shaken.”
Cato’s dark blue gaze sparks. “What happened?”
Marcus recounts for him what transpired at the tabernae: how he went to the temple first to find Sacerdos Matteo and Alessandra followed him; how he confronted the sacerdos for trying to kill Dru; how some Phaedran threatened to murder her and the bard hit him over the head with his lute before he could.
“I owe Jove a great debt,” Cato mutters, watching the bard converse with his mother. “A debt I can never repay.”
Marcus doesn’t speak aloud how deep his distrust of the bard has run since meeting him, though he certainly hasn’t tried to hide it. But he also knows he let his anger at the sacerdos get the best of him when he should’ve been protecting Alessandra. He made revenge his priority, and she nearly paid for his mistake with her life.
“He certainly put himself in my good graces, especially after I shirked my duties to stay at her side in the name of vengeance.”
Cato doesn’t take his eyes off his mother. “I understand why you did it, but it can’t happen again.”
Marcus nods. “I completely agree.”
“I’m sure you saw the physician leave?” Cato asks after a moment.
“I did,” Marcus answers carefully. “How is she?”
“Healing. But he gave her enough sedative to last her through the night.”
Imagining her lying there, unconscious, Marcus’s chest aches. “Was it that bad?”
“After he sewed her up, she asked him to burn the wounds.” Marcus sucks in a breath, but Cato holds up a hand. “We both fought her on it, but she reasoned she’d be no good to herself or me if the stitches on her wounds opened up in the middle of the race or during the gladiator fight.”
