Page 130 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
Frustration boils inside her, and she can’t escape it.
All around her sit the remaining competitors and their families. Cato invited them in the name of unity—breaking bread between nations and all that. Yet the Phaedrans speak with no one but their own, and the same with the Durevolians. Not everyone has chosen to accept the invitation either. Some of the competitors she remembers seeing at the end of the horse race, alive and well, are notably absent.
Cato’s doing all he can in the name of diplomacy, namely,ensuring everyone’s cups are constantly filled with either mulsum wine from the Imperium or the Nettare.
“Friends, visitors, countrymen,” Cato starts, getting to his feet from his place at the head of the table. His bronze crown rests perfectly atop his head, and his patterned indigo robes hold no wrinkles. “Thank you for accepting my invitation to this feast of champions. Tomorrow, we will face the greatest trial yet, and only two of us will be allowed to claim glory. For tonight, let us eat and drink together, to share in all that the Valorem Blood Trials have to offer to its competitors.”
He raises his glass. “May the gods, both old and new, smile upon each of us tomorrow.”
The rest of them raise their cups, a few Durevolians pounding the table and shouting “hear, hear.” But once they take a sip, they swiftly go back to their conversations. Cato won’t find comradery among the people here, not even from his own. Not that he wishes for it, more that the Phaedran competitors care so little for anything that might befall the people of this country. All they care about is how they might achieve their own glory or how much money they can win from betting against the Durevolians.
“I imagine you feel as if these trials are unnecessary?”
She blinks at the regina vedova’s words at her place beside her. Dru’s face must’ve given her away again.
“Not the trials exactly; I have great respect for your traditions. What I hate is the Imperium’s involvement in them.”
Alessandra smiles. “They were much worse at their inception. The killing of the last competitor to cross the finish line in the race is tame compared to what it used to be.”
Dru leans in, lowering her voice. “I imagine it’s been a few centuries since that’s been true.”
“Correct. Honestly, as a country, we’ve outgrown these trials. When my husband was well, he considered getting rid of them entirely.” She looks away. “Things changed when Legatus Ambitus began coming more often for his peace campaigns.”
“I don’t understand why your husband allowed those campaigns to continue,” Dru argues, unable to keep her thoughts to herself. Luckily, the other conversations drown her out, and only Cato sits at her other side. “What good did he think it would do?”
“My husband…” She sighs, smiling softly. “In his younger years, he thought war was the answer to everything. But as our children grew, he came to realize that war meant risking death for the people he loved. His first attempt at peace was to make an alliance with the Imperium by marriage.”
“Cato’s sister,” Dru guesses.
“Yes, my daughter, Vittoria. She was betrothed to a powerful member of the Imperium oligarchy.” She takes a breath that rattles inside her chest. “On the night before their wedding, a servant found her dead, an empty vial of poison in her hand.”
Dru’s heart aches for Alessandra, for Cato, for Vittoria. She doesn’t know what to say beyond, “I’m sorry.”
“No amount of time can rid you of the pain of laying your child to rest. Her last wishes were to be buried at sea—she always loved the water.” She purses her lips. “Once that alliance was no longer an option, my husband did all he could to maintain peace. And when Legatus Ambitus brought up the blood trials, he thought it would be the perfect opportunity to mend the strife between our countries.”
Dru works to soften her tone. “How could he possibly think that?”
“In truth, he was desperate and wouldn’t listen to me or to Cato. Even in his last days, when he’d gone mad with illness and grief, he was certain this was the right path.”
Inviting the Imperium into your bed is never the right path.
“Your people have suffered for a long time,” Dru says after a moment. “This island is all you have left after the Phaedran armies ransacked the rest of your country. He did what he thought was right to protect it.”
“Not everyone remembers we were once a great nation on the continent,” Alessandra laments. “From the moment the Imperiumrose to power, they sought to snuff us out. They were founded on a republic and wholly rejected our monarchy, finding our one ruler and strong governing bodies to be so tyrannical we needed to be eradicated. And they’d amassed the army to make it so.”
Dru sighs. “They didn’t want anyone to see there was another way of life.”
She nods. “That has remained a constant. They’ve stolen much from us—there was never any chance for peace between our nations. All my husband did was let in his greatest enemy, offering him a drink and a place to stay with a smile on his face. He hoped doing so would convince the Imperium we’re not a threat and allow us to live independently, but he was misguided.”
Dru snorts. “Fostering independence isn’t their strongest quality.”
“It’s why I’m glad you’re here, to protect Cato.” She chuckles lightly. “As much as he hates to admit it, he’s as stubborn as his father. He should’ve let Marcus be his proxy, but instead he put himself and the entire country in danger.”
“Your son will live through these trials if I have anything to say about it.”
She pauses. “Have you thought about what will happen tomorrow if, by some luck of the gods, you, Marcus, and Cato are all alive at the end?”
“To be honest, I haven’t.”
