16. Marcus #2
Heading in, he recalls Dru’s lingering gaze on him today after coming back from his run. Truthfully, he normally wears a tunic when he goes out in the morning. But with the beginnings of summer being so unpredictable in Anziano, he’d rather start out with less on.
That didn’t make Dru’s attention any less meaningful to him. The way she watched him, her eyes flashing gold with want, he could almost believe she’s forgiven him for what he said before he left the Faithless.
Then again, lust is a powerful thing. He’s not about to get his hopes up simply because he’s objectively attractive, with an abundance of lean muscle from his position as praetor.
Keeping to the outskirts of the arena and out of sight, he recognizes the first fighter as Dru. But it’s not Cato she spars with—instead, Sabina clashes with her.
Unable to help himself, he stops to watch them.
Even in a training tunic, Dru looks beautiful.
Maybe more so. Sweat clings to her arms and face, glistening in the setting sun, her hair pulled back at the nape of her neck with a loose strap.
His breath trembles out between his lips at the sight of her; he couldn’t look away if he wanted to .
“You have to stop raising the pole above your head,” Dru tells Sabina. “It leaves you vulnerable to attack.”
“But you do it,” Sabina complains, wiping the slick sweat from her brow.
“That’s because I have a specific move planned afterward. You’re not skilled enough for that yet.”
“But I want to be.” Sabina sighs, loosening her grip on the pole in a moment of weakness. “It’s not fair you’ve taken my place in the trials.”
Dru lunges forward and Sabina manages to block it down. Dru nods.
“What’s not fair is for you to compete in a deadly competition because they pulled your name out of a bowl. As if they were being fair and impartial.”
They exchange blows until Sabina leaves her left flank open and Dru taps her hard on her hip. Sabina hops away, placing a free hand on the spot.
Dru twirls the pole in her hand. “They only want fodder for their bets—to make money off your death. That’s why they chose a servant.”
“I know you have a better chance of surviving than me,” Sabina admits breathlessly. “But I feel like you’ve sacrificed your life for mine.”
She has , Marcus thinks, furious at Dru all over again for what she did. He admits he overreacted in the olive grove, but she shouldn’t have volunteered. She was supposed to remain on the sidelines, out of harm’s way. Marcus was meant to bear the burden, not share it with her.
“I have, in a way,” Dru concedes, though she’d never do so in front of Marcus. “But I have a greater chance of surviving the trials than you.”
Sabina blocks one of Dru’s attacks. “And what if I wanted a chance at glory?”
“Many believe they’d seek glory if given the chance. Far few have the fortitude to see it through to the end.” Dru raises a brow. “Do you seek it, now that the opportunity has presented itself?”
Heat splashes on Sabina’s face, though whether it’s from sparring or from embarrassment, he can’t be sure.
“If I said no, my brother would box my ears. But I’ve never sought glory. All I’ve ever wanted is a quiet life. And Cato was nice enough to take me on once he knew you were coming.”
“You’re his family.” She states it as a fact, not as a question.
Sabina glances away. “As much as you can be to a king.”
I shouldn’t be listening to this , Marcus decides, knowing there are things he can’t unhear. Wishing to share his meager findings from this afternoon with Cato, he chooses the hidden path to make his way back to the palace.
Brushing a hand against the emerald leaves and papery fuchsia petals of the bougainvillea growing wild against the side of the cliff, he again questions bringing Dru into the fold of the Valorem Blood Trials.
The growing unrest in the Imperium became his greatest motivator for finding a way to get her here.
What he didn’t consider was that Anziano could become an epicenter for chaos of their own.
Especially given his need to protect Cato over all else.
Making his way through the king’s secret garden, he passes by his men at their posts and enters through the palace doors, heading directly for the king’s chambers. He finds Cato already soaking in his bath, eyes closed as if asleep.
Marcus clears his throat—Cato doesn’t flinch.
“Are you ready for the Festival of Fanaleria?” he asks, opening his eyes and sitting up so he can get a better look at Marcus. “You’re a bit late, but it doesn’t take long for you to dress.”
“I don’t think we should go.” Marcus sits on the edge of Cato’s bed. “I followed Venatus Magister Blaise to the outskirts of the city today, where he’s meeting with Ambitus and someone from the Imperium to strategize for the first trial at this very moment.”
“And what does that have to do with tonight?”
A waiting servant enters to place a robe around Cato’s shoulders as he steps out of the bath, then leaves again. Marcus has become so accustomed to seeing Cato naked this way, he barely even notices anymore.
“It means that Notevole might not be safe anymore, especially not at night.”
Cato grasps his dark curls with a smaller strip of linen to dry them. “I’m not going to let them intimidate me, Marcus. We both know, if they’re going to attempt anything against me, it’s going to be in the arena.” He smiles knowingly. “Why do I feel like there’s another reason?”
Marcus stands, clearing his throat. “There isn’t. I’m simply concerned for your safety.”
Cato chuckles. “It’s okay to worry about her, Marcus.”
“It’s not okay to be worried about her.” He shakes his head. “I can’t have my attention split. Not now, when we’re a day away from the first trial.”
“Well, I give you permission to split your attention tonight. Just bring an extra guard for me, someone you trust.”
Marcus moves to leave, but Cato’s next words stop him. “I know you struggle doing things that make you happy, Marcus, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve them. Especially now, when any one of us could die in this gambit.”
Instead of replying, Marcus clenches his jaw. He wishes he could do as Cato asks, but it wouldn’t be right. If something happened to the king because of Marcus’s attention on Dru, he’d never forgive himself.
With no more words said between them, he leaves Cato to dress for the festival.