Page 46 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
She glances at Cato, who stands beside the ambassadors from the Imperium. The legatus now wears his full military garb, armor and all, sticking out among those in attendance. If Dru had to guess, he hails from one of the more southern territories where war wages less often. As if he feels the need to announce his military prowess when he likely hasn’t had to fight a day in his life.
The naked Tredici kneel before the statue of the Viverna. They throw back their heads and croon in their language, the ancient words keening along the high domed ceiling. Their voices harmonize perfectly with each other, and a pleasant chill floats along her skin, settling in her bones.
She closes her eyes, recalling her mother’s voice singing her tosleep as they curled up together on the floor. An ache she’s fought hard to suppress wraps itself around her chest and tightens around her stomach.
Opening her eyes, she places a hand over her midsection to staunch it.
In the midst of their chanting, the Imperium priest steps forward, taking his place directly beneath the dragon. Uneasy murmurs fill the temple from both peoples as the drum beats cease.
She leans into Marcus, whispering, “What’s happening?”
“The sacerdos insisted on inserting himself into the ceremony—to show unity.”
There’s that word again: unity.
“Liar,” she can’t help saying. “There’s no unity in this; they’re trying to convert the Durevolians.”
He clears his throat gently. “They’re a proud people. Believe me, they won’t be so easily manipulated.”
She could swear he and Cato rehearsed their speeches together. Dru’s about to argue with him when the bard, of all people, steps out from behind the dragon, lute in hand. She blinks a few times to make sure the tight ties around her waist aren’t causing her to hallucinate.
How did he manage to talk his way into a sacred ceremony for theDurevolians?
The sacerdos holds out his hands to the congregation. “Phaedrans, Durevolians, thank you for coming today. Ad deorum misericordia.”
For the gods’ mercy.
“Ad deorum misericordia,” the Phaedrans repeat.
Dru stares at her feet to temper her anger. She wishes she could scream at them for coming here, for trying to push their ways onto these people. But others in the room do it for her.
Although it’s not the powerful hymns of the Tredici, the Durevolians around her begin to hum together, filling the temple with a sound unlike anything she’s heard before. It rattles the stone andshakes the fiery torches, and she could swear the Viverna trembles. Looking at Cato, a grin slides across his lips.
The Tredici priestess in the middle turns to face the congregation, bearing her unclothed figure to all. Her messy, aurous hair hits the small of her back, her eyes more golden than any other Durevolian Dru has encountered so far. Shoulders back, chin high, she holds herself as a person with immense power. Whether she actually has any or not, is yet to be seen.
When she holds out her palms, the humming stops. The priest, in turn, takes another step forward. His neck strains forward as he glances down at her form.What I wouldn’t do for my dagger right now.
“We are here today to bless the Valorem Blood Trials. For it is now not merely a Durevolian tradition but one that can be shared across the Imperium. In this, we will set a precedent for peace across the Imperium and with our neighbors. A melding of two great nations has commenced.”
Dru tightens both her hands into fists, likely drawing blood from the nails cutting into her palms.
“In your king’s great wisdom, he has decreed that any person in Anziano can pledge themselves to the promise of glory in the Valorem Blood Trials.”
For your glory, not theirs.
Marcus’s attention snaps to her.Merda, I said that out loud.She presses her lips closed, refusing to meet his gaze.
“However, in the event not enough people volunteer, we will host a lottery.”
Worried murmurs trickle through the temple as panic seizes Dru. “Wasn’t Cato supposed to draft rules for us to go over?”
“I read them,” Marcus admits. “The Phaedrans arrived so early this morning, I didn’t want to bother you with them.”
“You should’ve brought them to me.” Anger overtakes any embarrassment of her previous outburst. “Never assume what I can and cannot handle—not when my sole purpose here is to help the king.”
He pauses. “You’re right; I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
She takes a measured breath to cull her frustration at Marcus as the priest continues. “You’ll be given the great opportunity to prove your loyalty to your country and, in some cases, win your freedom from your masters.”
