Page 31 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
Cato folds his arms and tucks his chin. “That it’s too closed and too stiff.”
“Right, so why does it remain so?” He squares up with Dru, whose expression remains serious. “Watch and learn.”
Nodding in mutual respect, they tap their poles together once, beat the ground, then begin to circle each other. But while Dru keeps her eyes on his weapon, Marcus watches her face. Despite her calm demeanor, her eyes and lips pinch slightly in concentration, her grip flexing along the chipped wood.
A slight breeze whips through the arena, bringing her sent with it. Marcus can’t help breathing her in. It’s been clear since the tabernae that she hadn’t bathed in all the time it took her to travel from the Faithless compound to Nusquam. But now she smells clean, slightly floral with a hint of olive oil.
He nearly stumbles.
She surprises him by moving first—a thrust to his midsection. He blocks it away easily. The way she positioned herself, though, allows her to swing the pole around, whacking his hip before he can get over to block it. She cracks a genuine smile, and he swears his heart stops at the sight of it. He forgot how infectious it can be—likely because he’s only seen it a handful of times since meeting her.
Cato laughs. “She got you there, Marcus.”
Marcus rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck, bending his knees.Time to get serious.
The second Dru settles into her stance again, he comes down on her with his pole, aiming for the top of her head. As expected, she brings hers up in time to block him. And he lets her.
He releases his grip on the pole, and her effort, as well as the angle he positioned his pole at, causes it to flip in the air. Catching it lithely as it falls, he immediately aims for her legs in a sweeping motion. A moment later, she’s on the ground flat on her back, her feet knocked out from under her. Dust plumes around her and she gasps out a breath.
But she finds her bearings quickly. In a move he never had the chance to teach her before he left, she flips herself up. A challenge sparks in her gaze as she pushes her damp, loose hair out of her face with her free hand. His pulse quickens.
Someone who’s not Cato clears their throat.
Marcus turns to find Ettore speaking softly into the king’s ear. Cato and Marcus share a look before the two of them depart the arena. Dru doesn’t seem to notice—or she doesn’t care.Probably pissed off I bested her.
Breathless, she says, “Can’t recall being taught that move before, Praetor Marcus.”
He falls back into position. “There are plenty of my moves I haven’t taught you, Drusilla.”
She stops long enough to consider the implications of what hemeant for him to make his next strike. But she parries his advance at the last possible moment.
“Where did my orders come from?” she asks after they exchange a few blows.
He falters at her question, taking a misstep. She takes advantage, striking out at him—he feints in time.
“From you?” She lunges for him, and he blocks her down. “Or from the Three?”
Stellae, she’s relentless. He knew she’d ask about her orders eventually. He wouldn’t do any differently and expected no less. But she’s barely had a chance to settle in before questioning her reason for being here.
More importantly, he can’t reveal the truth of it.
“The Three,” he lies, chest aching. “They require someone here besides me who knows about the blood trials. To keep the king alive and Anziano from falling into Imperium hands.”
In response, she attacks, which he blocks again.
“Is that the whole of it?”
His stomach clenches with guilt. “Yes. Now, let’s put this behind us.”
She doesn’t answer, circling him instead. Which is answer enough—for now.
Certain he has her beat when she leaves her flank open, he lunges forward. But she feints easily to the right, as if waiting for him to make that move. She knocks into his chest with the center of her pole hard enough that it forces him to drop his weapon and fall backward. But her own momentum allows him to reach out and wrap a hand around her arm, dragging her down with him.
Marcus hits the ground hard first, followed quickly by Dru’s weight on top of him. Luckily, her pole flew away and rolled off somewhere—otherwise, she would’ve cracked his ribs with it. Maybe worse.
When she doesn’t move off him, he meets her gaze. Shock raisesher brow and parts her lips. Their chests heave in rhythm, the gold in her warm, brown eyes sparking beneath the curtain of her dark hair.
Stellae, she’s beautiful.
