Page 16 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
The truth is he wants to tell her everything that’s happened to him these past six years. But something stops him. Maybe it’s because the last time he spoke to her, he broke her trust and her heart when he told her he didn’t feel for her the same way she did about him. He can’t think of that day without guilt crushing him.
It was the first and only time he lied to her. For her sake.
“Here you are.” Ignavus hands Marcus the knotted top of a woven rope bag. “There’s a large skin of wine in there too, for your troubles.”
Marcus takes it from him and raises a brow. “I expect to see some hired protection here the next time one of my men passes through.”
He bows his head. “You have my word, Praetor.”
The brothel owner’s word holds little value, but Marcus doesn’t care enough to send any of his men to check on him.
Their business ended, he and Dru head for the horses.
Dru lets out a breath. “You left the horses with the bard, didn’t you.” It’s not a question.
“I had little choice. Not when your mouth got you into trouble again.”
Before he can pass through the threshold of the brothel, she steps in front of him. Ire squints her eyes and tightens her jaw.
“Do you truly believe that?”
Hewasteasing her, but a part of him wants to say yes to see how angry it would make her.
“Of course not. He was a drunk asinus who deserved worse than what you gave him.” He can’t help when his lip tips up. “But your mouth does get you into trouble. Always has.”
Her eyes widen at the small morsel of truth.Yes, I remember you. I remember everything about you.
She clears her throat. “We’d better find the bard before he loses our horses.”
“Bold of you to assume he hasn’t lost them already.”
But when they walk back out into the early-morning sun, they find the bard right outside the brothel with Marcus’s horse, the other horse’s reins tight in his grip.
In truth, Marcus expected to find the bard gone. There was no reason for him to stay—he’s no longer in the crossfire between Namicus and the Imperium, and he has his own horse, supplies, coin. He could’ve easily crossed back over the bridge, leaving Marcus and Dru with no way to follow him.
Yet he stayed.
What could he possibly hope to gain?It’s feasible he believes the Imperium could decide to arrest him for his performance last night, but they’d be easy enough to evade. Or perhaps he wants a fresh start in Anziano, a country so unlike the Imperium.
Either way, Marcus and Dru still need him. For now.
The bard clears his throat. “I did as you asked. Even got the horses to drink from the trough.”
Marcus grunts, keeping his quip and his thanks to himself. Thebard’s hopeful smile doesn’t waver. But he’s sorely mistaken if he thinks Marcus will praise him for doing the bare minimum.
Once he helps Dru back onto her horse, Marcus hands the provisions to the bard. Pulling himself up, they set off again.
Crossing the last of the worn cobblestone of the Mercato Bridge, they trot onto a wide dirt path that takes them through the small village there. The desperation of the vendors chokes the air, begging passersby to purchase their less-appealing wares. Chipped mud bricks and tattered curtains plague each multi-story insula, where dirt-streaked children peek out through the holes at them as they pass.
Dru slows down beside him, nodding toward the next insula. “What are these?”
“They were built to house the Durevolian soldiers during the time the Imperium threatened to take the bridge. But when they made peace and withdrew, so did the soldiers, leaving their dwellings abandoned.” He continues while she eyes the closest building. “Those who can’t afford to rent a space on the bridge live here with their families, while others simply find an empty room and stay there until they possess the means to move on.”
“Aren’t they on Durevolian land? Is it not the king’s responsibility to care for them?”
“It’s not Durevolian or Phaedran land, and therefore gets forgotten by both.”
Her jaw ticks. “Are they Phaedran? These people?”
