Page 131 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
“Do you not fear death?”
Dru smiles gently. “When you do what I do, you worry about death a lot less.”
“Have you nothing to live for?”
She can’t help glancing over at Marcus, deep in conversation with Cato. The top half of his hair is pulled back, the dark blue tunic he wears stitched with gold. He even shaved since this morning, looking far too handsome than should be allowed.
“It’s not that. I almost died beneath the rubble of my home when the Imperium army burned it to the ground. The people who foundme took care of me, fed me, clothed me, gave me purpose—this second chance at life, I owe to them.”
Alessandra watches her for a moment, pity spoiling her gaze. “Drusilla, you don’t owe anyone for taking care of your most basic needs.”
Dru swallows, unsure of what to say and missing her mother more than she has in a long time. At that moment, the servants bring out the first plate of food: large colorful serving dishes of some sort of rolled-up white fish.
Using the serving utensil to place one on her plate, she cuts into it with her fork, finding it stuffed with breadcrumbs, capers, pine nuts, and what appear to be currants. Taking a bite, she’s met with the sour tastes of lemon zest and the capers, as well as the potent tang of garlic and the currants.
Ravenous from the day’s events, Dru eats in silence, giving her time to consider Alessandra’s words carefully. All her life has been spent in the service of the Faithless. After they rescued her, she felt it her duty to serve them. Or… maybe, they made her feel as if she had no other choice. She was so young then that even now she can’t be sure of her own mind.
No, that’s unfair, she decides, dropping the idea. She’s been given no reason to distrust the Faithless.
On the other side of the table, she finds the bard holding the attention of all the visiting Phaedrans. Dru realizes she hasn’t seen him in days and wonders what he’s been up to—if he’s been spying for the king all this time or if he’s merely been taking advantage of Anziano’s hospitality. When he turned out to be right about the lion, a part of her softened toward him, as much as she wanted to deny it.
After saving Alessandra’s life, and being there for Cato in his darkest moments, she finds she can’t hold her first assumptions about him in her heart like she did before.
Grinning, he says something, and his audience throws back their heads in laughter, a few clapping their hands. Dru shakes her head. She’s never been able to hold an audience like that. Only Ovi could.
Oh Ovi.With so much going on, she’s barely had time to think about her lost friend. How different would things be if Ovi were with her?She would’ve told you to make a move on Marcus your first night here. Her heart aches at the thought of her. Things would’ve been more bearable with her at Dru’s side, simpler to ease into. Living without Ovi has been one of the hardest trials she’s ever endured.
With little time in between, the main course comes out: a bowl of ingredients she doesn’t recognize.
She leans over close to Alessandra. “What is this?”
“We call it spaghetti con i ricci di mare.”
Dru blinks. “I don’t know what any of that means.”
A laugh bursts out of the regina vedova, quieting the conversations around them.
Alessandra clears her throat, collecting herself. “The yellow strings on the bottom are formed from wheat and water, sliced thinly with tools—a new Durevolian tradition. The meat on top is sea urchin mixed with olive oil and ripe tomatoes.” Dru must make a face because she assures her, “It’s good, I promise.”
Dru eyes it, then picks up a bit of everything with her fork and takes a bite. The urchin certainly tastes of the sea, but it’s been cooked perfectly. The spaghetti, as the queen called it, is slightly chewy with an edge of toughness but pairs well with the sauce.They have nothing like this in the Imperium, she thinks, knowing she’ll miss it once she leaves this place and returns to the Faithless.
The bard continues to entertain the masses between bites, but after all that food, it’s all Dru can do to keep her eyes open. If she survives tomorrow, she’ll sleep for a week.
When the dessert comes out—soft crescents of dough filled with what she hopes to be something sweet—Sabina leans down over her shoulder.
“The Tredici high priestess wants to see you after dinner.”
Dru glances up, finding the head of the Tredici seated almost directly across from her. Her attention is on Marcus, whose placebeside Cato means she likely hasn’t looked in their direction the entire dinner.
“Why?” she whispers.
“She wouldn’t say. All I know is she’ll be in the king’s garden at the sun’s setting.”
Dru nods, taking a long sip of her wine and forgetting about the dessert in front of her, stomach turning. She doesn’t hold the holy woman in the best regard, given that she watched the Viverna burn her and did nothing to stop it.She did heal you afterward, she reminds herself. A small consolation. She also shouldn’t be surprised that the woman knows of the garden’s existence, though still feels uncomfortable that she does.
After another healthy pour of wine, the entire dinner party begins to disband. Many of them—mostly Phaedran—decide to pay a visit to one of the local tabernaes, with the bard as their source of entertainment. Dru can’t be bothered, and the Durevolians seem to feel the same.
Marcus has already vacated his seat, and the priestess seems to have disappeared as well. Only Cato and his mother remain.
