Page 142 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
She shakes her head vehemently. “I’m not leaving you.”
“It’s nearly morning—no one’s going to come after me now.”
Marcus can tell Dru wants to argue, but the fight leaves her quickly, her shoulders slumping.
“As you wish, Sovrano.”
As she leaves, she catches Marcus’s eye, and they, too, share a long look of unspoken words.
“Marcus, a moment please.”
Once the door shuts, Marcus walks up to Cato and embraces him. The king of Anziano trembles slightly in his arms.
Marcus pulls back, gripping his shoulders. “Did you know your attacker?”
“No,” he bites out. “He was low-born, not much older than you or I. He tried to kill me with a dull butcher’s knife.”
Marcus glances behind him. “How did he get in?”
“The man snuck past the guards at the front somehow, then tried to kill Gio first. The pair of them fell through the doors during the scuffle.”
Marcus considers this. “I’ll station at least two guards outside your door, and another two to keep an eye on your balcony.”
“None of it will matter if I die today.”
Marcus shoots him a look. More than awake now, he walks over and pours himself and Cato a cup of water from the jug on the table.
“It’s a terrible thing to have happened the night before the final trial.” He hands Cato the cup and gestures toward the chair for him to sit. The king collapses into it.
Peering into his cup, he drinks the entire thing, then leans forward to pour himself a healthy cup of wine instead. “Even without the attempted murder, my night was much worse than yours.”
Marcus’s cheeks heat at the possible insinuation. “What do you mean?”
“It means that sound carries in this place, and you left your balcony door open.”
Cato laughs at what must be the fuming expression on his face. “Don’t worry, I only heard you because my chambers are closest to yours and I couldn’t sleep.” He smiles blearily. “I’m happy for you, Marcus. Though it does complicate things.”
“It doesn’t,” Marcus argues. “What happened hasn’t changed my duty to protect you, or how much I care about her.”
“You can say it, you know.” Cato gulps down his cup of wine and pours another. “That you love her.”
Marcus crosses his arms over his chest, not meeting Cato’s eyes. “I’m afraid what’ll happen if I admit it aloud. That whatever gods might be out there will hear and hold it against me.”
Cato fails to hide his tired grin. “True, best not risk it.”
Marcus decides a change of subject is needed. “Did you get what you needed from the temple earlier?”
“I did.” He opens a drawer in his nightstand and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He doesn’t open it, holding it out for Marcus. “Keep it with you. For the last trial.”
He takes it but doesn’t put it away. “You’re trusting me with it?”
“I wouldn’t trust anyone else with the fate of my country, Marcus.”
Marcus scoffs, “Not even your own mother?”
“Not with this,” he admits. “I can’t depend on her to make a rational decision when my life is involved.”
“If things go like we hope, neither she nor I will have to.”
