Page 7 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
She blinks at him. Of all the things she expected him to say, none of those words were among them.
Her eyes fall into slits. “You have no right to give me orders—you lost that privilege when you defected.”
His smile falters and his nostrils flare.
“Good to know the legions of the Faithless are so easily manipulated. Especially you, Drusilla.”
So, he does remember me.Grimacing, she sheaths her dagger so she doesn’t stab him for being an asinus by mistake.
“Yes, well, some of us believed the lie. Some of us mourned you.”
He lifts a single brow, keeping his silence. And she keeps hers. Whether he’s being honest with her or not, he deserves to feel some sort of guilt for what he put her through—along with the rest of the Faithless.
“The man behind the blue door isn’t worth your time,” he says finally.
She stops fidgeting with the sheathe on her belt, unable to hide her surprise that he knows about her orders.Maybe heisstill one of the Faithless.
“And King Cato of Anziano is?”
“Yes,” he answers immediately, watching her intently.
Dru bites her lip, quickly weighing her options. She has no good reason to believe Marcus, to go with him blindly on his word alone. On the other hand, if he, in fact, never defected and has been on an assignment all this time, that makes him her superior. Can she denya direct order—even one from someone who so thoroughly fooled her fellow Faithless initiates and became such a cunning spy?
Especially when he claims the order comes from the last king on the known continent?
Crossing her arms, she takes a moment to weigh her options. The man behind the blue door could be anyone; it’s not her place to question why the Faithless ordered him to be killed, only to do what she’s told. And if Marcus somehow remains one of the Faithless, then he must have his reasons for telling her to disregard the orders—rebuffing him would be cause for exile in the eyes of the Three.
She exhales. Despite every bone in her body wanting to deny him simply so she can, her best option right now is to trust him.
“Then we should leave,” she snaps, “before we join the Phaedran soldiers in death.”
Turning on her heel, she makes a run for the military stables, left untouched by the enemy’s fire. Marcus trails behind her.
“Such little faith in the Imperium army might be considered heresy,” he says seriously once he catches up to her. She knows he’s only trying to bait her—like all members of the Faithless, he couldn’t care less about Imperium law.
She doesn’t break stride. “And having someone arrested after saving their life might be considered idiocy, but here we are.”
If she didn’t know better, she could swear he chuckled.
Once they reach the stables, they hurry through the wide entrance, moving along the center pit to avoid alerting any soldiers who might’ve slept through the sounds of war. Luckily, the ones at the tabernae find themselves too busy with their own inebriation and the enemy’s fire to come for their horses.
Choking down bile, she endures the rank stench of horse piss collecting in the ditch—they won’t get far without transportation. Especially given they’re heading deep into the island country of Anziano, a much wilder land.
Past the rounded stone arches and wooden gates, they find most of the horses tucked away in their stalls. The first few greetDru and Marcus with impatient huffs, their wide, dark eyes watching them curiously.
A thud slams against the inside of the stables, hard enough to rattle the timbers; Dru flinches. The horses jolt, stamping their feet and whinnying in alarm. Dru pulls out her dagger, hoping Ovi hasn’t gotten herself into trouble, despite knowing that’s the most likely scenario.
She turns the corner, finding Ovidia standing over an unconscious stable hand lying in a heap on the hay-spattered ground.
Dru sheathes her weapon. “It took you this long to incapacitate a stable hand? You’re losing your touch.”
“He was a trained soldier,” Ovi explains, tossing the shit shovel in her hand onto the ground beside him, “and also very uninterested in my womanly wiles.”
Dru rolls her eyes. “Your womanly wiles have only gotten us into trouble.”
Ovi grins, but she drops it just as quickly, pulling out her own dagger as Dru senses Marcus approach behind her.
She holds out a hand, gesturing for Ovi to back down. “Relax, Ovi. You remember Marcus.”
