Page 72 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
Her stomach turns at the implication. Marcus’s grip on her flexes.
“I’ve already paid this one for her services; she’s of no use to you.” His words sting like a dagger to her heart. “Go enjoy yourselves.”
“Not without you,” the first man says. “It’s not every day one finds the king’s praetor out sampling the foreign goods. And I plan to take advantage of your rank.”
The other men shout in agreement.
If she wasn’t pressed against his chest, she wouldn’t have heard his low growl. “Then at least allow me one more moment of ecstasy, gentlemen. I did pay for it, after all.”
He turns his back to them then, hiding Dru completely with his body. The other soldiers laugh and whoop before walking away. Marcus looks over his shoulder, then takes a step back and releases her from his grasp. She fights off a shiver.
“Ihave to go with them. They won’t leave me alone until they’re drunk enough to forget I exist.”
She wants to rage against him, to force him to explain why he has to go out of his way for men he outranks. To press her lips against his now that the soldiers are gone, forgetting everything and everyone else.
But she can’t get the words to come out.
She swallows, refusing to meet his gaze, to look at him at all. “I understand.”
His hands clench into loose fists. “I’m sorry. For the things I said, for…”
He trails off, leaving so many words left unsaid—silent words threatening to rip her apart. Anger and rejection heat inside her blood. Marcus has proven time and time again to be her one weakness. And she’s grown weary of it.
“I’m sure you’ll find someone else to warm your bed tonight, Praetor Marcus.” She nods in the direction of the empty alleyway, where the other men’s drunken voices carry over to them. “They seem determined to make it so.”
“Dru.” He says her name as if doing so physically wounds him, the word choking him. She doesn’t meet his gaze to confirm or deny his pain.
Instead, she turns away, heading in the direction of what she believes to be the beach, feigning confidence. “I’ll come find you before the first trial.”
He doesn’t call after her, doesn’t move to follow her. And once she turns the next corner, out of sight, she bursts into a run. Her caligae sandals slap the ground, marking her steps loudly, She knows it’s childish, running away from her problems. But she doesn’t care—not tonight. All she can think to do is run.
Racing through the empty streets of Notevole, she allows the tears she held back to spring to her eyes, carving down her cheeks in hot tendrils. For the ache building in her chest to consume her. Sheshould’ve never allowed Marcus to get under her skin like he did. He never wanted her that way, so why would it be any different now?
She has no idea where she’s headed, only that she has to get away. Emotions swell inside her the way the ocean waves crash against the shore.
It doesn’t take long for the air to grow thicker and the sound of the sea to breach the silence.I must be close to the beach.The path to the palace should be clear from there.
She can’t wait to take off this ridiculous dress, crawl into her bed, and prepare for the first trial tomorrow. Marcus became a distraction of her own making, and it’s time she put it to rest and focus on why she’s here in the first place.
She stops at a short cliff, the moonlight brightening the footholds to the water’s edge. Climbing down them, she takes her time on the toeholds, slipping only once but catching herself easily.
Once her feet hit the sand, she stops. The strange humming sound she heard a couple nights ago pounds relentlessly against her ears. It grabs ahold of her and pulls her in its direction, guiding her past the graveyard of seashells and dried seaweed from a couple nights before.
A few more steps, and she finds herself in front of the same blackened cave, unable to resist its call. She stands closer than before, nearly inside the dark mouth.
Before she can question what drew her here again, she falls forward onto her hands and knees?—
Intense firelight surges around her.
The veil of darkness gone in an instant, she throws her arms over her eyes to stop the light from blinding her. Heat soaks into her skin, her throat, her chest, suffocating her as if she stepped into the heart of a forge.
Once she grows used to the harsh glow and the heat lessens, her arms go limp. Before her, lithe, curved women dance around a raging bonfire—thirteen of them, if she’s counting right. The Tredici. Theirshadows blur and Dru rubs at her eyes; it does nothing to clear them. The low humming presses on her ears, blurring everything.
It’s not my vision; it’s the sound they’re making.
Lips sealed tight, their throats appear to vibrate, emitting the same low pitch Dru heard the night she tossed the torn pieces of the Faithless order into the Multum Sea. It tames the raging flames before them and rattles the earth beneath her. This is nothing compared to their parlor tricks at the festival, of course, but somehow it feels more significant.
Before long, a shadow approaches her, bending down on one knee.The high priestess.Beyond her, the others continue their dance, refusing to break from their ritual.
