Page 54 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
The crowd’s mutterings grow, falling away when Ambitus holds up a hand again.
“So it is done, Marcus Scaevola.”
He nods at the recorder on the opposite side of the stage, whoscratches Marcus’s name down on the ledger in his hand. Dru’s stomach revolts, bile climbing up her throat. Why would Marcus do this? He knows how dangerous the trials are. She wants to stomp up there and shake him until he changes his mind.I should’ve known he would do something like this.
But what’s done is done.
The legatus gives the crowd another moment to follow in Marcus’s footsteps. When he’s met with silence, he dips a ringed hand into the bowl.
“Ersilia Locatello.”
A moment later, an older woman slips through the crowd and approaches the stage. Age and fear curl her shoulders and color her hair gray.Stellae, she won’t last one round in the arena.
“I am Ersilia Locatello.”
The recorder scratches her name down—when a single voice from the crowd calls out.
“Morte all’Imperium. Morte all’Imperium!”
A handful of others join him. Before it can gain momentum, Phaedran soldiers sift through the crowd and haul the dissenters away, easily squashing it.
Despite the disruption, the lottery continues on over a dozen more times, each person’s reluctance greater than the last. The old, the young, and all those in between are chosen, becoming nothing but a spectacle for the Phaedrans to hedge their bets. Yet it’s her anger at Marcus that refuses to wane.
Until the next name is called.
“Sabina Cantu.”
Dread squeezes Dru’s heart as she shifts her attention to Sabina. “Please tell me your last name isn’t Cantu.”
But the fear in her eyes and the trembling of her lower lip confirms it.
Thinking quickly, Dru yanks the necklace Cato gave her in order to pass off as one of the rich Durevolians over her head and hands it to Sabina.
“Put this on right now,” Dru whispers, pulse thundering.
Sabina doesn’t fight it, her eyes blank, no doubt certain that her life’s been made forfeit by simple chance.Not if I can help it.
Unclipping the earrings from her ears, she slips them into Sabina’s pocket. She doesn’t look like a servant, but the envoys from the Imperium have no idea what any of those chosen from the lottery look like. Even Blaise is unlikely to remember her from the previous morning. She just has to hope no one else will say a word, or that Sabina’s awful brother isn’t somewhere in the crowd.
She steps up to the stage, ignoring the murmurs of the Durevolians and the rageful glare from Marcus. But no one dares argue that she’s not who she claims to be.
“I am Sabina Cantu.”
As she hoped, neither the legatus nor the venatus magister appear to recognize her from yesterday; their attention shifts over her as if she’s nothing. She supposes, to them, sheisnothing. Ettore recognizes her, of course, but he stays silent with the rest of the Durevolians.
A few more names are called, but she doesn’t hear them. Sabina stares at her from the crowd, wide-eyed and grasping the pendant around her neck. Dru holds her gaze.Please, don’t say anything.
“With that, we have the last of our one-hundred participants. May the gods favor you.”
The Phaedrans turn away and depart the crowd, but the Durevolians don’t disperse. Another loud voice pierces the silence.
“Morte all’Imperium! Morte all’Imperium! Morte all’Imperium!”
More voices join him this time, moving toward the stage. Blaise takes a tentative step back, but Ambitus doesn’t flinch.
When the Durevolians rush forward, he nods to his soldiers on either side of the stage. At his command, the soldiers unsheathe their swords and move to stand unified in front of the crowd before anyone can lay a hand on the Phaedrans, blocking the horde with their shields. The Durevolians bang their fists on the thick wood, continuing to chant louder and louder. Dru glances over at Marcusbehind them. Deep concern wrinkles his brow and his hand flexes on his sword’s hilt.
One Durevolian pulls a dagger from his robes and lunges for the closest soldier—who immediately stabs forward with his sword and skewers him in the gut before the man can reach him.
