Page 97 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
“Why did you belittle my news to the king?” the bard complains. “I can only contribute so much.”
Marcus glares at him. “Because I don’t trust you.”
The bard groans. “How many times must I prove myself to you? I haven’t done a single thing to make you doubt me.”
Marcus nearly chokes on his spit. “Besides the unconfirmed information regarding the lion, give me one instance when you’ve proven yourself.”
The bard holds up a finger. “One, I haven’t tried to kill the king, or anyone else. That feels significant. And two”—he holds up a second finger—“I paid for Dru’s passage into this country when I didn’t have to.”
Marcus sits back in his chair. “That doesn’t account for the whole of your character. You’re gone for hours at a time, sneaking in and out of the palace.”
“As the king’s spy,” he argues.
Marcus ignores him. “And of all the people in the Imperium, you happened to run into the praetor of Anziano and the king’s invited guest at our most vulnerable.”
“I’d call that mere correlation, not causation,” he postulates.
Marcus points at him. “That’s another thing: you’re far too educated to be a bard barely getting by.”
The bard picks up an orange and studies it. “Maybe I chose this life despite a good education.”
Marcus huffs. “And you have an answer for everything.”
The bard shrugs. “Only because I speak in truths.”
Marcus takes a moment before speaking again to temper his anger. It doesn’t do much.
“Stay away from Sabina. You can’t gain anything from her.”
The bard tosses the orange in the air and catches it again, laughing. “Not everything in life is about gaining something from someone. Some things are for pleasure and pleasure alone. But you wouldn’t know what that’s like.”
Marcus turns without giving him the satisfaction of an answer.Because a part of him sees the truth in the bard’s words. Not about him being innocent—Marcus refuses to take an eye off him, especially after this last conversation. But about taking pleasure in things.
For so long, his sole purpose has been to serve the Faithless; to help them realize their higher purpose, therefore achieving his own. But the Faithless leach every morsel of individualism from their initiates at an early age—it’s the reason they only take on children as initiates, so they can mold them into perfect soldiers. The longer he’s been away from their heavy hand, the more he’s been forced to reassess where his loyalties truly lie.
He regards the bard one last time. “Cato might trust you, but I don’t—I can’t. Not when the fate of this country and its king hangs in the balance.”
He goes to the window in dismissal and stares down at the top of the arena, barely visible through the mulberry roots.
The trial tomorrow won’t be anything like the first. That involved strength and strategy. For the maze, either you know the answer to the riddle or you don’t, and then you face whatever challenge they present to you should you get it wrong.
Their opponent tomorrow is the gamemasters and their tricks, not the other competitors.
He wishes he could protect Cato in the maze, but each participant has their own entrance. Cato’s educated enough to get the riddles right—that doesn’t mean they won’t throw something else his way. Something he can’t handle.
And Dru.Even if she gets every riddle wrong, she’s trained well enough to hold her own against the traps. She’ll be fine. At least, that’s what he must tell himself.
The sound of Dru calling his name breaks through his thoughts; blinking, he turns in her direction. He must’ve been staring out the window for longer than he realized.
“Is the bard gone?” Dru asks, Sabina at her side. Sweat glistens on their foreheads, their cheeks flushed.But while Sabina goes back to work, Dru heads directly for the pool, taking off her dusty sandals and dipping her feet in the cool water.
“Yes,” Marcus says, heading over. “I had a talk with him.”
She snorts. “I’m sure he talked back.”
“He did.”
“And?”
