Page 146 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
She raises her chin. “I won’t leave without making sure Dru’s safe.”
I don’t have time for this.“And I’m ordering you to go. If this ends like I think it will, I want you as far away from this arena as possible.”
He turns back to his men. “Valente, your sword.” Marcus’s most trusted guard unsheathes his blade and hands it over without question.
Leaving Sabina there, he takes the stairs two at a time up to the balcony level, his men at his heels. He glances out through the openings, finding the crowd has filled every available space in the arena, the last stragglers taking their seats. Do the Durevolians realize their king might die today? That, if he does, there will be consequences beyond their imaginings?
Although none of that matters if the king turns out to be missing.
The Imperium wouldn’t be reckless enough to assassinate Cato outside the arena, and not allowing him to participate defeats thepurpose of killing him and ending his monarchy in his own trials.Something worse is at work here.
Sprinting through the emptying corridors, he stops outside the legatus’s balcony.
Gripping Valente’s sword in his hand, he barges inside. Ambitus’s own men don’t have time to react before Marcus places the blade at the ambassador’s throat. The sharp edge bites into his skin, drawing a bead of blood.
“Where are they?” Marcus demands between his teeth.
Legatus Ambitus has the gall to chuckle, despite the blade poised at his throat, one small movement away from slicing him open.
“It’s all part of the game, praetor.”
Marcus glances around the balcony, not seeing Venatus Magister Blaise anywhere. The only other bodies in the room are Ambitus’s guards, their swords pointed at him from nearly every angle.
“I’m going to give you a choice, Marcus Scaevola,” Ambitus says evenly. “Either let this trial play out as intended and accept the outcome, or watch your king and your love die without a chance to defend themselves.”
Marcus flexes his grip on the sword and his arm begins to tremble—not from the weight of the blade, but at the thought of not giving Dru and Cato a chance to survive whenhe’sthe one who’s supposed to die today.Not them.
Slowly removing the blade from the legatus’s neck and stepping away, he hands the sword back to Val. Ambitus’s men sheathe their own swords in return.
“If you’ve hurt them in any way?—”
Ambitus stands and regards him, his remorseless expression cut with malice. “What can you possibly do to me when you’ll be down there with the rest of the riffraff?”
Marcus’s nostrils flare, almost wishing he still had the sword in his grasp. “I can throw a spear farther than you’ve ever seen.”
Without waiting for a response, he pivots on his heel and hurries down to the area entrance, anger and fear propelling him. He picksup a shield and spear from their respective crates, then regards his men.
“Go find Regina Vedova Alessandra and protect her at all costs. She’s likely on her way here already from the temple after her morning prayer—take her back to the palace and don’t let her leave your sight.”
They nod and hurry off, leaving Marcus to join the other remaining competitors. Sweat born from nerves drips down his face and pools under his arms. He’s not sure what Ambitus has done with Dru and Cato, but at the very least, it sounds like they’re still alive.I should’ve expected some sort of trick.
The drum beats once and the murmuring crowd goes silent.
“Phaedrans, Durevolians, it is time for the final Valorem Blood Trial: gladiator combat, where the last of the competitors will fight to the death until one Phaedran and one Durevolian claim victory,” Ambitus booms, and the crowd cheers. Marcus swallows down the bile in his throat.
“Given how unique these particular blood trials are, we thought we’d surprise you with a twist.”
At his command, the floor of the arena cranks open, revealing the top of a rounded stone pilar rising from below. Dru and Cato, and a few others, soon come into view, each with metal irons clamped tight around their wrists, leaving them utterly helpless. Horror consumes him, his jaw clenching from the unfairness of it all.
He’s not alone. The crowd boos, their dissent palpable. Even the Phaedrans don’t appear to think this is very fair. But he only has eyes for Dru, and for Cato directly beside her.
He grips the spear tight, physically stopping himself from going out there and setting them both free right now. The only thing staying his hand is the certainty that Ambitus will keep to his word, giving him no choice but to wait until the fighting starts.
Two drum beats, and then: “Competitors, please enter the arena.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
DRUSILLA
