Page 128 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
“What did you do to Drusilla the night of the festival? That symbol on her arm…”
He trails off, and a smile widens along her lips.
“I told her it was the ancient Durevolian symbol for loyalty.”
“But it’s not,” Marcus assumes. “Because there isn’t one.”
She watches him for a moment. “I’m sorry, Praetor Marcus—the symbol and the reason behind it are not mine to tell. When the time is right, I will tell Drusilla, and then she will decide whether or not to trust you with the truth of who she is.”
He takes a steadying breath before replying, “Is it hurting her?”
Ginevra shakes her head. “No. And that is all I can say.”
“It’s enough,” Marcus assures her.
They walk through the temple together in silence now, moving too slowly across the river-like floors for his taste. The sun is high enough in the sky that its light blasts through the opening at the top of the pointed ceiling. The rest of the Tredici pray on their knees at the base of the bronze dragon, speaking in the ancient language of the Durevolian people irreverently as he passes.
“Through there,” she gestures, indicating a simple wood door to the left of the altar where two of his guards stand watch.
Opening it, he finds himself in a small bedroom with a single bed. He imagines this room normally belongs to the high priestess, though not since Alessandra has been living in the temple. The only window sits beside the bed and faces the interior, the thick blown glass a light purple. The silk sheets on the bed are blue—no doubtbrought down from the palace—as is the chair the queen sits in, her son at her side.
Cato looks over at the sound of the door opening, surprise and caution written across his face.
“Marcus, what are you doing here?”
Alessandra clicks her tongue. “Don’t be rude, Cato.” She regards Marcus. “Even if it’s for no reason at all, I’m glad to see you.”
“And you, Regina Vedova.”
She laughs lightly. “I believe we’re past such formalities now. At least in here.”
“Why have you come?” Cato insists, tempering his tone. “Is something wrong?”
“When I returned from my run this morning,” he starts, belaying Dru’s presence, “Ettore was waiting for me. He thinks Blaise and Ambitus are poisoning him for daring to speak against them.”
Cato doesn’t consider the accusation for long. “It’s certainly plausible. What are his symptoms?”
“A tightening of his stomach and a nasty headache,” Marcus explains. “If I’m being honest, his nerves might be getting to him more than anything else. So, I released him from his position until the trials are over.”
Cato nods. “That was wise. There’s not much he can do now anyway.”
“That’s what I said. He claims he’s been fighting them at every turn, and while I’m inclined to believe him, I’m also not sure who we can trust anymore.”
“Do you think the Imperium has him in their pocket?” Alessandra asks.
Marcus shifts on his feet. “I doubt it—Ettore has been consistently loyal to your line. But there’s always a chance they’ve used his wife and children as leverage. At least to keep him out of the way.”
“Then why complain about ailments now?” Cato wonders.
“Probably so he doesn’t appear guilty at the finaltrial.”
Cato scratches beneath his jaw. “What are the chances he’ll try to leave on a boat to the Imperium tonight?”
“It’ll only prove his guilt,” Marcus argues. “More likely, he won’t leave his home for some time.”
“If the people realize he had a hand in helping the Imperium,” Cato reasons, “they won’t hesitate to exact justice in their own way.”
“We have no idea what’ll transpire between now and then. It could be moot.”
