Page 27 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
Dru laughs at her boldness.
Sabina holds up Dru’s dirty clothes, her arm extended. “Do these garments hold any… sentimental value for you?”
“Only my cloak.” She nods toward the bed. “The rest can be washed.”
Sabina eyes them. “Yes, washed. Not burned and tossed out.”
Dru truly smiles for the first time since Ovi passed.
She clears her throat. “Do with them what you will.”
Understanding the dismissal, Sabina leaves with Dru’s clothes, shutting the door softly behind her.
Dru sinks back down into the bath before the water can grow cold. She closes her eyes and Ovi’s face immediately shows itself to her.
Instead of sadness holding her captive, a look of content graces the soft lines of her face, deepening the dark green of her eyes.Freedom. It was something Ovi always wanted but knew she could never attain in this life. And so, she found it in death. Tears slice down Dru’s cheeks, salty and hot, stinging inside the wound on her cheek.
Dru has been prepared to die since before her oaths, never considering the deaths of others. Her own inevitable demise doesn’t bother her, but to find herself adrift now without Ovi…
The loneliness grips her throat, threatening to suffocate her.
One thing she learned early on from her mother: none but the living can mourn the dead. And yet she fully believed death would come for her first. Not that she wished for Ovi to mourn her, but she never expected to have to go on without her best friend. She hasn’t felt this pain since her mother died—a pain she never wanted to relive again.
Love begets loss.A common saying of the Faithless she hasn’t taken seriously until now.
Before getting out, she takes the scraper Sabina left, brushing it against her skin with enough pressure that the caked-on dirt tumbles into the bathwater.
Body scrubbed raw, she steps out of the bath and grabs a linen to dry off. She blots one of the smaller linens with the oil-ash concoction inside the flask, taking her time to rub it nearly everywhere except her face. She puts some in her hands and runs it through her hair, untangling the knots.
Once that’s done, she pulls out the large cork on the jar and gently brushes the thick salve over the wound on her cheek. The smell of bitter earth, strong florals, and what she can only describe as apple peel tingle inside her nose.
Letting her wet hair dry freely, she finds new undergarmentsand a training-appropriate tunic in the trunk at the foot of the bed. Lastly, she dips her sandals in the water to remove some of the dirt before lacing them up again.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she waits for Sabina to return.
But enough time passes for her to become restless. And when no one checks on her, she decides she’s done waiting.
Opening the door, she doesn’t find Sabina anywhere. And when no one else comes by, she walks the opposite way down the hall, making her way toward the main entrance without running into a single soul.
Outside the palace walls, she shuts the front doors behind her. The guards stationed at the columns out front take little note of her presence. Beyond them, the sun bathes the land in a deep golden light, darkening the leaves of the olive trees in the distance and warming the rolling hillsides. The twittering of sparrows and goldfinches disguises her footfalls as she sneaks off to the right.
Rounding the column at the corner of the palace, a sloping dirt path appears between the edge of the cliff and the mulberry trees bordering its wall. Curious, she starts down it, quickly finding herself on a flat, ample ledge hidden behind the rockface. Rows of garden boxes fill the available space?—
—with a figure crouching down at the center of them, dark curls obscuring his face.
“Cato?” His name leaves her lips before she can stop it.
The king leaps to his feet, a metal spade gripped tightly in his hand, dark blue eyes manic. But he relaxes his form the moment he recognizes her—his trust in Dru mere hours after their meeting confuses her.Marcus must’ve told him about me.
In fact, that’s the only logical reason for her being here at all—Marcus. Not Cato.
“Oh, Drusilla.” He relaxes the arm holding the spade and places his hand over his heart. “You startled me.”
“It’s my fault. I didn’t know anything was down here, much lesssomeone occupying it. I’m surprised you’re alone.” She glances around her. “Where are your guards?”
“Elsewhere. This is the one place Marcus allows me to be on my own.”
She wants to ask if that’s wise, but bites her tongue.
