Page 44 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
Dru stares at the dress Sabina left on her bed for her that morning. It shimmers in the half-light, sewn from the finest silk in Anziano—or so she’s told. She brushes her fingers along the violet-dyed fabric, extraordinarily soft against her skin.
“Why a dress?”
Sabina regards her. “All the Durevolian women wear this. Cato thought it might fit you. It once belonged to his sister, and she was about your size.”
I don’t have it in me to argue.Though she does note how Sabina speaks of his sister in the past tense. She wonders what happened to her: was she married off, or did she pass away?
“Let me take a bath first.”
“I think that’s wise.”
Sabina combs her hair once she’s done, then helps her into the dress.
The fabric clings to her curves the moment she slips it on over her head. More so when Sabina pulls a thin woven rope around her waist a few times before tightening it, accentuating her smaller waist and ensuring she breathes less easily.
Thin braided straps rest gently on her shoulders and loop across her back, while the neckline plunges down the front, nearly reaching her bellybutton. The hem of the dress falls just above her feet, except for the thin slit that comes to a point higher on her right thigh than she normally cares for.
“Is this an appropriate outfit for a religious ceremony?”
Sabina laughs. “You’ve spent too long in the Imperium.”
While Dru places the armband back over her tattoo, Sabina shifts on her feet uneasily.
“What is it?” Dru asks.
“What happened to your cheek?”
Dru reaches for her face but doesn’t touch the wound. She completely forgot about it. “A Namican soldier sliced it open with their arrow before I killed them.”
Eyes wide, Sabina follows Dru as she leaves her room for the front of the palace. “That’s where Marcus found you.”
“Yes, in Nusquam, across the river from Namicus.”
“I’m glad he did,” Sabina confesses after a moment. Dru doesn’t press the matter, but she’s glad for Sabina’s company.
The open doors of the palace frame Marcus, Cato, the bard, and a handful of guards, waiting in the bright sunlight of midday.
Her heart nearly stops at the sight of Marcus. He cleaned up for the first time since bringing her to Anziano—he shaved off the days’ old stubble and slicked back his hair so it curls slightly around his ears. She can’t help staring at him as he stands beside Cato, wishing he didn’t have this effect on her. Wishing she could get over wanting him so badly she can barely think of anything else.
Marcus, it seems, has no problem watching her beneath his hooded gaze once he notices her approaching. Or maybe he has no idea he’s doing it.
But most men would look at her the way he does with this dress. At least, that’s what she tells herself. Because she can’t fathom the alternative, and the dress in question warrants it.
His own clothes don’t help the situation. Instead of a tunic, a pair of black, wide-legged, silk trousers sit low on his hips, and a matching short-sleeved silk shirt clings to his shoulders—with all the buttons undone. Her idea of what he might look like beneath his tunic does him no justice. The muscles she convinced herself to be hidden under his cloak that first night are on full display, as is more of his bronzed skin.
She swallows, her body warming at the sight of him.Stellae, he looks good.Toogood.
Cato finally notices her, a genuine smile lighting up his face. “You look magnanimous, Drusilla. I’m glad the dress fits you.”
“Thank you. Sabina told me it’s your sister’s?” she prods.
“It was, yes.”
“Was?”
His eyes tighten, but otherwise he gives nothing away. “Yes, was. But I’m glad to see some of her things being put to good use.”
As much as she wants to pry, he clearly doesn’t plan to elaborate. Though she might ask Sabina later.
