Page 52 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
“Why not ask the bard to do it?” A hint of jealousy sours her question.
“I don’t care about the bard. I wantyouthere.”
Her lips part in silence, and he can’t help the spark of pride in his chest at shocking her.
“All right,” she agrees after a moment. “Who should I pretend to be, then?”
Relief at her being there floods him, especially knowing what he has planned.
“A rich woman from the other side of Anziano. That way, you’ll look like you belong with the Durevolians, but no one will recognize you.”
She nods, standing to approach him. “I’ll take Sabina with me, then. She can be my servant.”
“Sheisyour servant.”
She shoots him a look. “You know what I mean.”
He nods; he does. The Dru he knew before thought she’d be placed in a palace like this one to infiltrate the home of a high-ranking military officer or one of the senators to report back on all their movements. But the Faithless had other ideas. Last he heard, she and Ovidia were living a life akin to the Imperium slaves.
The woman who stands before him now is no novice. She’s counted each and every one of her kills, wears them as ugly scars on her heart. A hardened warrior, if ever he saw one. Yet softness pervades too, in her small smiles, in the way he catches her looking at him sometimes, in how she cares for Cato despite having only just met him.
He brushes her open palm with the tips of his fingers, this time to reassure her. Her fingers twitch but she doesn’t pull away. The memory of grasping her hand tight inside the temple—of wishing he could take her pain away—invades his thoughts.
She doesn’t want you, he reminds himself.Not after what you did to her.
“I’ll come for you before the sun rises.”
Then he inclines his head and leaves her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DRUSILLA
The following morning, the Phaedran ships come.
One of Cato’s council members brought them the news at breakfast. The opulent vessels now crowd the small port tucked into an inlet not far from the capital. They brought with them Imperium clothes, goods, food, and whatever else they could carry from the mainland. The smaller boats hale from the nearby southern coast; others are larger, ferrying more people from the northern reaches of the Imperium.
According to the council member, the most affluent visitors brought their own luxurious tents with all the amenities one could imagine. Some have taken up residence among the olive groves more inland and across from the palace, while others chose spots directly on the beach. The less affluent rented rooms at the local inns, occupying every available space.
Knowing the Phaedran elite have invaded Notevole, however, doesn’t prepare her for it.
Mobs of Phaedrans crowd the street around Dru. Dressed in fine clothes and jewelry, outlandish hairstyles and imprudent footwear, their affluencesickens her.
If it weren’t for Marcus, she’d be uncomfortable among so many of them. She glances over at him and he meets her gaze, his expression stern but reassuring, and she remembers how gently he touched her hand in her room yesterday.
When he held her hand in the temple, it was for comfort, reminding her that he felt her pain as his own. But when he brushed his fingertips against her palm after she agreed to go with him to the lottery, it was as if he couldn’t help himself.
She’s unsure how to feel about it.
She can’t help being of two minds about Marcus. On the outside, he appears to still be the good man she once knew, if not a little different. He was never much of a deceiver; he could barely keep a secret from her when they trained together. But he’s certainly hiding something now—something important. Either he doesn’t trust her with it, or it involves her somehow.Or both.
Yet, she feels safer with him than anyone else.
Walking beside him, with Sabina trailing behind, he charts a path in his full military uniform. His brown leather chest plate forms to his frame, attached with tightened straps on one side. His belt sits low on his hips, his Gladius sword sheathed on his left. He tied his caligae sandals all the way up to below his knees, his hair knotted atop his head.
Dru fiddles with the pearl drop earring in her right ear, her skin slightly irritated from the metal. Pretending to be of nobler blood proves to be no easy task: her posture keeps slumping, and her feet shuffle along the dirt road in the slippers he insisted she wear. What she wouldn’t give for her sandals and the comfort of her pugio dagger. But he made her give that up as well.
She hates being out in public without it. Even when she sleeps, she keeps her blade within reach. The only weapons at her disposal now are her own hands and Marcus.
