Page 111 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
She groans, sweat dampening her forehead as the events from the day before come rushing back through the pain.Fucking lion; fucking sacerdos. Reaching over blindly to the table beside the bed, she grabs one of the blown glass vials left there by the physician, catching sight of her arm wrapped tight.
After he burned her wounds, he left her these concentrated concoctions of silphium root to keep the pain at bay. He claimed he gave her all the vials she would need, instructing her to take them starting in the morning when the bell tolls eight times, then twelve times, and so on.
He warned her about taking too much of it at once, though she doubts she’ll need it more often than recommended. She learned to handle pain long ago.
A part of her already hates the ugly burns on her arms, despite insisting on them. As one of the Faithless, their scars define them, especially ones so visible. The Three claim they flaunt your mistakes, but she’s learned not to see them that way. Her scars mark hertriumphs, all the times in her life when death gave her a second chance.
Although Dru normally bears her wounds with pride, she doesn’t deserve these scars—the sacerdos does.
Sitting up, she swallows the contents of the vial without waiting for the bells to toll, the intense pain enough to warrant it. The bitterness runs down her throat and sits heavy on her tongue; she drinks the rest of the water in the cup beside the vials to chase it away.
Sabina knocks on her door right as she places her bare feet on the cold marble floor.
“Wait, let me help you,” Sabina insists as she practically drops the linens on the ground.
Dru’s already standing on her own, wincing.
“Are you never not carrying linens?” Dru asks, padding over to the balcony.
“Do you want clean ones or not?” Sabina counters, grabbing a silk robe from the clothes trunk and placing it over Dru’s shoulders. Dru nearly shrugs it off but clenches her hands together instead.
Dru watches the morning waves crash onto the shore. As she has most mornings, she realizes.At least I’m here to see another sunrise.
“I’m sorry I can’t train you today.”
Sabina scoffs. “After what happened, I wouldn’t let you.”
As the medicine winds its way through her, slowly numbing the worst of the pain, she turns to Sabina. “I noticed you’re always at the palace. Don’t you have any friends besides your cousin?”
She pauses, her shoulders wilting. “My brother forbade me from seeing those who spoke up against his treatment of me. Which was everyone.”
Anger and pity rise up inside Dru. “Why didn’t Cato do anything about your brother? He’s king, after all.”
“He didn’t know—he still doesn’t.”
The look in her eyes begs her not to tell him.
Oh, Sabina.“I understand.” An idea forms in her mind. “In lieu oftraining, why don’t we go into the city today and find something fun to do?”
For the first time since meeting her, Sabina offers Dru a small smile.
After a bath, Sabina helps Dru put on a dark green dress with golden stitching. It’s more conservative than the ones she wore to the ceremony and the festival, but it’s main draw is the lack of sleeves. That way, her exposed arms won’t get irritated by the fabric. The open back leaves the fabric to cover only her chest, starting from where it’s hooked around her neck and tightening around her waist.
She allows Sabina to braid her hair loosely, despite wanting to leave it down. Another annoyance that would bother the wounds on her arms.
Dru offers for Sabina to choose a dress as well, though it takes some convincing. Once Dru argues that they’re her late cousin’s dresses and shouldn’t be Dru’s anyway, it does the trick.
“I can’t believe what Marcus did yesterday,” Sabina comments as she wipes her hands on her blue silk dress. On Dru, the hem would hit the middle of her thighs, but on Sabina, it brushes the tops of her knees.
“What did he do?”
Sabina’s eyes widen. “You don’t know?”
Dru shakes her head.
“I don’t know if I should tell you,” she admits.
Concern sets Dru’s heart pounding. “Now you must.”
