Page 88 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
“Is that allowed?”
He scratches at his jaw. “There are no rules explicitly against it. If anything, it’s considered a tactic.”
Silence descends on them, leaving nothing but the far-off sound of waves crashing below and the gentle breeze in her hair.
Her mind wanders, allowing errant suspicions to crop up in her thoughts. The more time she spends with Marcus, the more she realizes he’s keeping things from her. Important things, tied to Cato’s fate and possibly her own.
Maybe he hasn’t outright lied, but he hasn’t told her the full truth either.
Although she already asked Cato, she wants to hear it from him: “Marcus, what have you been doing all this time in Anziano? Ihaven’t heard a single whisper of your being here, yet the Three placed you as praetor. Even worse, you let us think you’d betrayed the entire order.”
He stills beside her, keeping his silence for so long she’s sure he won’t respond. Until he slackens his shoulders and releases a breath.
“I wanted to tell you—you more than anyone else at that place. But they swore me to secrecy on pain of death.”
Warmth spreads up her neck at his small confession, but she pushes it down. Just because Marcus wanted to tell her that his defection was a ruse and that his orders were to find a position in Anziano doesn’t make what he did right.
“If they falsified your treachery, there must be more to you being here than protecting the king,” she goads.
He hangs his head. “I wish I could tell you—I do. But I can’t. You’re just going to have to trust me.”
Irritation rises inside her at his unwillingness to share. But she reminds herself that Faithless law is clear: orders cannot be made common knowledge, even between other members. Ovi and Dru were a special case, taking their orders together because they worked better as a team. Technically, Marcus didn’t even have to admit that thereareorders to follow.
Simply by asking him to tell the truth, she could be compromising all the work he’s put into his place over the last six years.
She takes a deep, steadying breath. “I understand. If this truly is the will of the Faithless, I want you to know I have your back, no matter what plan might be in place.”
She reaches out to touch his hand but thinks better of it, tucking it underneath her leg.
“I haven’t made it clear before because, well, it wasn’t true until now, but… I trust you.”
“You do?” he asks, his voice gruff.
She glances over at him, not sure what she expects to see. The last few days have been confusing, to say the least. They would’ve kissed last night if not for those soldiers, and this morning he wasabout to confess something important to her before Sabina interrupted.
Much in this place appears to be hard at work to keep them apart.
Choosing not to be speak, his gaze softens and he leans into her. Pulse pounding, she takes the hand from beneath her thigh and places it on his own at the water’s edge.
“I was worried about you today,” she admits. “When I saw that giant of a northern man step out into the arena, I was ready to go out there myself if you needed me. Especially after what you told me this morning, about me draining your life force.”
Heat spills across her cheeks from the memory of waking up in his room.
He laughs once, softly. “I wasn’t worried about you at all in the arena. Not after they chose a Phaedran as your opponent.”
She can’t help smiling, remembering the shock on the man’s face as he watched her swoop around him before he could comprehend what was happening.
She squeezes his hand. “I should’ve been there to support you instead of focusing on something I might never understand. You’re too important to me.”
His gaze turns serious and he lets out a breath through his nose. Wordlessly, he leans into her further, a movement so small she wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t been watching him intently. Their shoulders barely brush, skin against skin, her gaze flicking to his lips?—
“Sovrano wants to see you both,” Sabina announces behind them, causing Dru to flinch.
She leaps to her feet, splashing water everywhere. Marcus stays where he is for a moment. His shoulders rise and fall before he stands too, following her barefoot across the courtyard.
In silence, they enter the king’s chamber. The shades have been drawn, muting the harsh sun. The kingsits up, flexing his injured arm wrapped tightly in gauze. Dots of crimson line the bandaged wound, anger sparking in his sapphire gaze.
“Good to see you back in one piece,” Dru says, breaking the heavy silence.
