Page 29 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
Packed dirt scuffs beneath Dru’s feet as she glances up, taking in the breadth of the arena.It must fit at least five-thousand people.Turning back, she cranes her neck, barely able to make out the palace over the very top of the arena.
On the flatter side facing the ocean, large balconies have been carved into the jagged face of the rock. Royalty and the more affluent Durevolians must take their place there to watch the trials. The rest of the arena is built out from the cliff, encircling her.
The most impressive thing about the arena, however, hangs above her head. Suspended over the stands is a large semicircle structure carved out of what she believes to be strong oak, supported by a dozen posts set deep in the stone of the second row from the center. Overhead, long swaths of dark blue linen hover between them, aided by hundreds of wooden masts fixed around the top of the arena, along with a system of ropes. Almost as if the shades can be pulled back and forth with ease.
Dru can hardly believe her eyes.A true marvel.
Beneath the hot sun, she imagines every seat filled, trying to place herself in the shoes of all the competitors from the prior bloodtrials. Closing her eyes, she can almost hear the roaring crowds, the chanting and the cheering, the screams echoing along the walls. She feels impossibly small among the massive stonework.
The dirt beneath her stretches to either end, farther than her view from above led her to believe.So much blood spilled on this ground. She shivers as cold understanding seeps into her skin at the thought of the violence these stones have witnessed.
“This arena was built on the bones of what was once a gathering place and bath house. A symbol of selfish decadence,” Cato explains, breaking the silence between them. “Until one of my ancestors, King Caritatevole, decided he wanted to win over the people.”
Cato steps into the exact center, where a circular carved stone split in jagged halves rests. His feet cover the symbols and ancient words carved into it.
He regards her. “Marcus told me you already know the history of the Valorem Blood Trials, but humor me.”
She gestures for him to go on.
“King Caritatevole built the Ammaliare Arena to gain his subjects’ affection. Which, it did. For a few generations, this place hosted plays, musical acts, lively debates. Until his own great-great-granddaughter, Queen Iniga, who hated her ancestor’s love for the people and wanted to remind them her line was descended from gods, turned it into a battle arena. From that, she created the first trial.”
“That seems cruel,” Dru notes, as she’s always thought so and wonders how Cato feels about it. “To deprive her people of art and philosophy by exchanging it for blood and death.”
“Many Durevolian scholars agree with you. It was a dark time for Anziano.”
He continues, “The trials were once held yearly, but with so many people dying, the entire country threatened to revolt. She decreed magnanimously that they would take place every ten years. But once Queen Iniga died, her own daughter, who knew the countrywould kill her if she kept on like her mother, chose to host them once every one hundred years.”
Dru crosses her arms. “And this is one of those years.”
Gazing around the arena, he nods.
“And what do your people think about the Valorem Blood Trials? About their origin?”
He meets her gaze again. “That origin has been kept secret from my people. In their minds, it’s remembered as a test of bravery, a show of loyalty to their country, and a chance at glory in the eyes of the gods, rather than as a reminder of who holds power.” Cato’s nostrils flair. “Truthfully, I never liked the idea of them. But I can’t buck such a steadfast tradition so soon after my father died.”
He smiles. “Thank you for allowing me to recount the history to you. There’s something about telling it inside the very place it began.”
Her attention strays to the stands again. “You feel like you were there, at the creation of it all.”
Though she’s normally quick to mistrust, Dru finds it easier to speak her mind around Cato. Not like when she’s around Marcus. Which means she needs to be careful about what she divulges.
“Exactly.” He sighs. “It’s barbaric in many ways, but it’s the pride of the Durevolian people. A reminder of who we were before the Imperium.”
“That’s why you want to go through with it.” She also guesses, “And why you want to participate.”
Cato casts his gaze down. “If my father were still alive, I’d be his champion. Despite his many objections. Now, I’m my own champion.”
She chooses her next words carefully. “I think your people would rather have a king than a champion. Only one can survive the Valorem Blood Trials.”
He still refuses to meet her gaze. “Things will be different this time.”
She waits but he doesn’t elaborate, and she doesn’t push him.Yet.
The sparring weapons on the other side of the arena catch her eye, some glinting dully in the waning sunlight.
“When do the trials start?”
“In a few days’ time. I know it’s short notice,” he admits as Dru swallows her surprise.That’s an understatement. “But if anyone can make sure I’m ready to compete, I’m told it’s you.”
