Page 124 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
“Is this the route you take every morning?” Dru asks, embarrassed by how breathless her words come out.
Marcus, however, doesn’t sound winded at all. “I haven’t been this way in months. But it’s beautiful this time of year.”
She wants to ask more questions, but it’s all she can do to breathe in and out while keeping up with him.
A sea of purples and yellows and oranges blur past them, floating atop the waves of emerald and gold.Natural steps formed by the roots of the oak trees encroach on the path, helping guide them down a slight hill. The sky above them holds none of the rain clouds from the race yesterday, leaving only a pale blue.
Dru feels her legs grow stronger beneath her, her muscles remembering their training as Marcus leads them through a trickling creek. Water splashes up onto her calves through her sandals, cooling her down as she navigates the rocks carefully so she doesn’t twist an ankle. Despite the sun staying concealed behind the mountains, sweat pops up on her brow.It’s going to be a warm day.
They pass beneath a canopy of trees that grew over the worn path long ago, spitting them out into a small glade. Marcus stops, barely breathing hard. Meanwhile, Dru bends over to place her hands on her thighs, struggling to draw breath.
Chuckling softly, Marcus walks back over to her.
“Have you forgotten everything I taught you?” He brushes her elbows, and she straightens. “Place your arms above your head so your chest opens up more and you can breathe easier.”
He guides her elbows up, and she sets her forearms on top of her head. The warmth of his hands on her sends a pleasant shiver down her spine, planting an ache deep inside her. This close to him, the scars she saw at the tabernae in Nusquam become more pronounced. For the first time since noticing them, she wonders how he got them; if he suffered; if he killed the people who gave them to him.
And then, she wants to press her fingers against each one, as if doing so will erase them.
When he doesn’t step back, she swallows. “Are we close?”
He pauses, searching her gaze before backing away. “Not yet.”
She huffs. “Stellae.”
“I wanted to show you this first.”
He faces the direction of what she believes to be the palace though she can’t be sure. Until she follows his gaze.
The thick oak trees part to allow in the coast. Blue water, lightening as the sun crests over the mountains, laps onto the white sand.In the distance, the palace shines in the sunlight atop its craggy plateau, the limestone and marble sparkling. Dru didn’t think it could be any more beautiful, but when the light hits it from this vantage point, it’s otherworldly.
“You don’t see things like this in the Imperium,” Marcus murmurs at her side. She merely nods, words evading her.
Her mother used to tell her stories of a bright white palace hanging over cool blue water. She didn’t notice it until now, but from here, Cato’s palace looks exactly like the one she imagined when her mother told her stories about it.
He grabs her hand and squeezes. “Come on.”
Turning from the spectacle and the memories it sparked, she follows him as they start along the path again. He takes them through a thicker part of the forest, flitting between tree trunks and leaping over wild roots. Eventually, the forest opens up again, gravel and dirt turning into larger rocks and pebbles.
At the end of the path, a short ridge stands in their way. In the distance, she swears she recognizes the persistent sound of a waterfall but doesn’t see any nearby.
Wordlessly, Marcus approaches the wall and steps into the first natural foothold, and then the next, grasping onto the thick vines growing out of the rock. His back muscles flex around his tunic, his calves contracting inside his sandals.
Once he’s halfway up, he looks over his shoulder and holds out his hand for her to take.
This had better be worth it, she thinks, grabbing his hand and following in his footsteps. She pays attention to every single place she puts her hands, testing each foothold before pushing herself up. They did plenty of climbing training at the Faithless, and she didn’t care for it then, either. But it’s easier than she thought it would be. Her fingers dig into the rock until she reaches the roots, thick and sturdy in her grasp.
Marcus reaches the top first; he offers hishand to help her again but she ignores it, climbing up the last part on her own. The sound of rushing water grows louder, mist clinging to her skin and hair.
Marcus places a steadying hand on her back and she tries not to focus on the heat emanating from it. “Welcome to the Cascate.”
Dru’s eyes widen at the sight before her, her breath catching. A beautifully complex system of pools and waterfalls fills the wide valley below them, separated by thick groves of trees. Similar to the ones they trotted across during the race, each pool is connected by the constant flow of the waterfalls, eventually reaching the sea in the distance. Dru glances behind them at the Scabroso mountains, a few gentle wisps of clouds settled over the top.
She turns back when Marcus’s hand leaves the small of her back. Having already removed his belt, he grasps the back of his tunic and pulls it over his head, revealing the thick, sinuous muscles beneath. Dru stares, breath halting in her chest as her hands ache from not touching him.
Mouth dry, she swallows. “Marcus, what are you?—”
Gripping the tunic and belt in his hand, he spares her a glance, winks, and then leaps off.
