Page 53 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
She has no issue spotting the Durevolians in the crowd: simple silk robes and tunics, and no jewelry to speak of except maybe an odd necklace here and there. And none of them look happy to behere. Nervousness and anger pinch their brows and tense their shoulders.
The area outside the temple where the market normally takes place now plays host to this farce. In front of the Viverna fountain, a short wooden stage has been set up. Phaedran soldiers flank either side of it, gloved hands on the hilts of their swords.
Three men stand atop the platform: Legatus Ambitus, Venatus Magister Blaise, and Ettore. She could swear both Phaedran men only brought the one outfit, though they’re clearly roasting inside them. One of their slaves fans them with palm leaves from below the stage as sweat charts multiple paths down the sides of their faces.
Blaise holds a bronze bowl in both hands.The names of their victims.
“Stay here,” Marcus bids her, leaving Dru and Sabina amidst the building crowd for the side of the stage, behind the Imperium soldiers. Once in position, he stands at attention, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword and the other behind his back.
The crowd murmurs around her, the sound trickling along her ears like rain on dirt. Loud, lurid words quickly extricate themselves from the torrent in the form of the loudest Phaedran voices behind her, unafraid of who might be around to hear.
“It’s been some time since we’ve seen such a fine spectacle of brutes,” one of them comments. She flinches.
“They’re not brutes.”
“Then what would you call these barbaric trials?”
“Tradition?” another suggests.
“I say a good bit of fun.”
It takes everything in Dru not to turn around and punch all of them in their smug faces. But she must behave, for Marcus’s sake.
“And lucrative. I’ve already placed my wagers on all four events.”
“Before seeing the competitors? Seems risky.”
“No one from this country can compete with a Phaedran. Their participation is merely sport.”
The others make sounds of agreement.
“I’ve heard the capital is calling this a good faith exhibition.”
“They always know how to frame things.”
The legatus holds up his hands in an order to quiet the masses, and they quiet down.Fucking finally.Sabina shifts closer to Dru.
“Phaedrans, Durevolians; today, we witness an auspicious moment in history. This will be the first lottery for the Valorem Blood Trials, a sacred competition where anyone can win if they are brave and determined enough.”
A lie.The Durevolians in the crowd shift uneasily on their feet. The Phaedrans, on the other hand, beat on their chests three times. Like the drums of war. Contempt hangs in the air between the two peoples like a thick fog.
“So far, thirty-two people from Anziano have volunteered. We need eighteen Durevolian citizens to harness their bravery and take their place among their peers for a chance to prove the love they have for their country.”
Angry murmurs ripple through the crowd. Sabina moves in closer to Dru, their arms brushing.
“Before I pluck a name from this bowl, would anyone like to volunteer?”
Dru glances around her discretely, unsurprised to see not one hand raised.
She finds Marcus again, his gaze already on her. Jaw clenched, grip tightened on his hilt, he watches her for a moment. Panic rises in her chest.He can’t be doing what I think he’s doing.
He steps toward the stage.
She stumbles forward before she can stop herself, wishing she could keep him from what he’s about to do—but it’s too late.
“I volunteer.”
Deodamnatus, Marcus.What a stupid thing to do.
