Page 90 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
They do as she asks, following at a distance.
Cato and the bard stagger their way into the center of Notevole, cracking nonsensical jokes and laughing uncontrollably before promptly shushing each other. Thankfully, their hoods remain over their heads, especially given how many Phaedrans appear to be taking advantage of the night life in Anziano.
Watching them together, they’re better friends than she realized.Why the bard, of all people?Their apparent friendship goes beyondCato being jealous of his simple life or the bard treating Cato like any other man. The bard has charmed his way into the king’s heart, and Cato’s happier for it.
Although more people roam the streets at this hour than she cares for, the night is dark and the lanterns are barely lit—which is lucky. The less people who might recognize Cato, the better.
Snaking through a few alleyways, they lurch in the direction of the next tabernae.No, not tabernae, she realizes. Women and men dressed in nothing but sheer robes can be seen through the doorways, enticing passersby to spend their coin inside. The king can’t risk being caught in a place like that.
With no other choice, she grabs both of them by the shoulders. “What are you two doing?”
They whirl on her, the bard flinching back while Cato puts up his fists like he’s ready to fight. When he sees it’s her, he tucks in his chin sheepishly, hands falling back down to his sides.
“Drusilla!” the bard yells. “What are you doing here?”
“I asked you first.”
“Drinking,” the bard admits, right as Cato claims, “Nothing.”
They glance between each other, switch each other’s answers, then fall into a fit of laughter.
Dru rolls her eyes, knowing they’re too drunk to notice. “You know you can’t enter a brothel. I understand wanting to forget what happened today at the trial, but not like that.”
“Now why’d you have to go and bring up the trial?” the bard slurs. “I just got him drunk enough to forget it.”
Dru sighs, realizing she can’t leave Cato in the care of the bard now.A long night awaits me.
“Right, let’s go drown our sorrows then.”
They both stare at her like she’s lost her head.
“You came here to forget,” Dru explains. “I understand that need. So, let’s go forget. Together. Safely.”
“I know you,” a man interrupts them, stepping out of the brothel and speaking directly to her.
Not just any man: Sacerdos Matteo.
She shouldn’t be surprised to find him coming out of a brothel after preaching purity in the eyes of the gods. All the holy men she’s known have been hypocrites; why should one of the heads of their religion be any different?
She knows they’ve never met, but pinches her hood around her face all the same. “You’re mistaken.”
“You’re one of the competitors,” he says, his eyes glazed over. “But I know you from the Imperium. I just… can’t place you.”
Fear rips at her stomach. Ambitus and Blaise must not share the competitor list with him. By all accounts, he should know her as Sabina. Yet this man watched her compete today, believing her to be someone he knows from the Imperium.
“You’re mistaken, sir.”
Cheeks reddened from overconsumption of wine, he narrows his gaze. “I don’t believe I am. I never forget a face.”
She’s never going to win this argument. And the less time he spends looking at her face, the better.
She turns to her companions. “Let’s go.”
Cato smiles gratefully, and they move away from the brothel, the bard leading the way.
The heat of the sacerdos’s stare follows her until they turn a corner.
Four cups of wine later for Cato and the bard—and two for Dru—they finish their drinks in the earliest hours of the morning.
