Page 32 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
Gritting his teeth, he forces himself to ignore the feeling of the weight of her entire body flush against his. The way his core warms and his breath hitches from her nearness.
He pushes down those sensations. As much as he might want her, he ruined anything that could happen between them the day he told her he didn’t care about her, after she bared her soul to him. He regretted it the moment he said it and every moment since. But it’s in the past now, and it had to be said. Once he knew what his first orders from the Three would be, he had to ensure she moved on from him.
Besides, he won’t allow his feelings for her to ruin Cato’s chances of surviving these trials. Even as his arms ache from not holding her.
He squirms carefully beneath her, which he quickly recognizes to be a poor idea. But it does the trick. Before anything happens, she shoots off of him, brushing imaginary dust from her clothing despite no part of her touching the ground.
Lying there, he perches himself on his elbows, watching her tuck her hair behind her ears and pick up both poles from the ground. She refuses to meet his gaze, clearly flustered. He hides his grin.
“We should get back to the palace,” she calls over her shoulder.
Before he can open his mouth to agree, she hurries over to the weapons stash and tosses the poles into the crate.
Marcus slowly climbs to his feet as she flits about, busying herself with organizing the other weapons.
“Dru—”
She stops fidgeting, choosing instead to glare at him. “What?”
He continues to fight against his lips tipping up. “You’ve gotten better.”
She raises a brow.
“At fighting,” he amends.
“Oh,” she breathes, her shouldersloosening. “Thank you. I hate to admit it, but I wouldn’t be nearly as good if not for you. You were the best trainer the Faithless had.”
A compliment. His chest warms. “Glad to see all my hard work hasn’t gone to waste.”
She shakes her head, and he knows she’s biting her tongue.
“What is it?”
She sets her shoulders again. “Nothing.”
And he watches her walk out of the arena.
CHAPTER TEN
DRUSILLA
Dru awakes the next morning to muted sunlight bathing her chamber in a warm glow, pressing in through her closed eyes.
Groaning from the lingering ache in her hip and shoulder, she grips foreign silk sheets between her fingers, the far-off sound of waves crashing around her.Where am I?
Her eyes snap open.
Heart pounding, she leaps from the bed, throwing the sheet off and gulping in the briny sea air. Out of the corner of her eye, the Multum Sea shimmers through the balcony door left ajar, the breeze rippling along the curtains.
Anziano.I’m in Anziano with Marcus Scaevola, and Ovi is dead.
Her stomach drops, and a single tear cuts down her cheek for her friend. She chooses not to wipe it away this time. She doesn’t often allow herself to feel loss. Physical pain is easy to ignore, to overcome. But when no one’s around to see it, she gives in to the scars only she knows exist.
Wearing a white slip she found in the trunk of clothes left at the foot of her bed, she walks out onto the balcony. She places her arms on the metal railing and peers out at the ocean as the gentle breezedries the tears on her cheeks. The morning fog clings to the water’s surface, making it impossible to see the Imperium shore on the other side.
The Imperium, who are only allowing the Valorem Blood Trials to take place in Anziano for their own personal gain.
She hasn’t figured out how yet, or to what end. But the moment Cato mentioned the lottery, she knew. The Imperium only does that which benefits them. They’re not allowing these trials out of the goodness of their vile hearts. And certainly not for the sake of a tradition for a country they’ve failed to successfully invade.
