Page 123 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
Closing her eyes, she recalls his nearness when he told her of his plan for the race, mere moments before it began. How close his lips were to the sensitive skin beneath her ear, how her body yearned for his. For that one moment, the race didn’t matter, and her and Marcus were the only two people there.
She flinches at the gentle knock on her door. Sabina’s never knocked softly once in all the time she’s been here, so it must be someone else.
What she doesn’t expect is to find Marcus on the other side.
Her body heats at what she was thinking about him just now. Dressed in a sleeveless tunic, his dark hair is pulled back from the nape of his neck, blue eyes bright and clear.
His gaze widens at the sight of her. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead, his gaze rakes down her face, her neck, all the way down her sheer nightdress. Heat radiates from below her stomach and up her neck.
She crosses her arms over her chest and feigns a shiver. Marcus swallows and meets her gaze. Whatever his reason for being here, she’s more than glad to see him—she needs to apologize for what happened.
“Marcus, I’m sorry for nearly killing myself yesterday; it was stupid and reckless. With him so far back in the race, we probably could’ve outrun if we rode hard enough. Instead, I took a risk I didn’t need to.” She takes a deep breath. “And then you had to save me from meeting his fate, which I can never repay.”
He watches her a moment and she wishes he’d say something.
Finally, he shakes his head. “You’re right, itwasreckless, and stupid as well. But you never need to repay me for saving your life,” he tells her, his voice rough. “Especially when you do most of the saving yourself.”
“Thank you.” She breathes out a sigh of relief. “Now, to what do I owe the honor of your presence this morning?”
He cracks a smile. “I couldn’t sleep and thought you might want to go on a run with me.”
She leans a hip on the threshold. “I think I saw enough of the island yesterday.”
That garners a small, painful smile from him. “You’ve never seen anything like what I want to show you.”
She bites the inside of her lip, debating if he means more than just the scenery.
“Besides, we both need a distraction before the final trial tomorrow.”
He couldn’t be more right about that.Stellae, the last trial—a trial I might not get to see the end of.
“When you say it like that, you’re not giving me much of a choice.”
His gaze deepens. “I didn’t plan on giving you a choice.”
She squints at him playfully, secretly pleased that he’s not making it easy to tell him no. “As you command, Praetor Marcus.”
Then she shuts the door in his face.
Searching through the trunk at the foot of her bed, she manages to find a tunic not made of silk, sown from what she believes to be finely-threaded wool. The material feels slightly scratchy on her fingertips. She’s not sure how breathable it’ll be, but given the linen tunic she came here in was likely incinerated by Sabina, she doesn’t have any other options.
After lacing up her sandals and pulling back her hair with a strap, she opens the door, finding the threshold empty.He must be waiting for me at the front. She makes her way across the courtyard, passing Cato’s chambers. The doors hang open and his bed is empty, the curtains pulled back.
“Where’s the king off to so early?” she asks once she meets Marcus at the palace doors.
“He’s spending the day with his mother, down at the temple,”Marcus answers, a bit too quickly. Dru sobers, knowing precisely why and wishing she didn’t.
Pulling open the bronze doors, they’re greeted by the shadowed mountains and silent olive grove, thick fog clinging to the land. It softens the sounds of the morning, of the birds in the trees and the crashing of the ocean waves.We’re the only people insane enough to be awake right now.It’s just as well: not running into anyone could not be more ideal at the moment.
She holds her hand out. “After you.”
He flashes her a grin, then takes off past his own guards and down the steps. Unwilling to hide her own giddiness, she hurries after him, careful not to slip as she runs down the slickened marble. The moisture from the fog clings to her skin, sticky to the touch. But she knows she’ll appreciate the coolness once they get moving.
She catches up to Marcus quickly, though only because he let her. He runs nearly every morning, and the last time she purposefully went on a run was before she took her oaths. He used to make her and Ovi run laps whenever they talked during his training sessions. To them, it was a punishment. But for Marcus, there must be something he loves about it to continue doing it all these years.
They dash through the olive grove, passing by the dark red, golden-stitched tents of the sleeping Phaedrans. The Imperium soldiers on duty watch them pass, their gazes following them until Marcus veers to the left, leading them into the wilds of Anziano.
They duck under tree limbs and leap over mangled roots, skirting along the sheer cliffs when the path takes them close to the ocean.
