21. Drusilla
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DRUSILLA
D ressed in a plain tunic and simple belt for the first trial, Drusilla sits cross-legged on her bed, thoughtlessly running her fingers through her hair as she stares out at the Multum Sea.
The moment she returned to her room, she plunged her arms into the bath, using the reed scraper to remove the caked-on ashes.
She shouldn’t have been surprised when the skin underneath came out unharmed, the boiled skin good as new.
But she can’t decide if that’s because the ashes—and Marcus, apparently—did actually heal her or that it never happened in the first place; that, in her troubled, inebriated state, she only imagined the cave, the Tredici.
The Viverna.
Peering down at her hands now, she turns them over and back again. She dreamt about them last night—about the dragon’s molten flames engulfing her entire body and burning her alive, while the Tredici priestesses stood by and did nothing to stop it.
Her hands ache, the memory of the Viverna’s fire clinging to her. She remembers it reaching deep enough to destroy all feeling in her hands and arms. What if it had made it to her blood? To her heart? Marcus mentioned their fire is poisonous—it could’ ve killed her.
Would she be alive right now without the Tredici slathering the ashes of the plumeria on her arms? Or if Marcus hadn’t held her through the night?
Marcus … It used to be that the only people Dru could rely on in this life were herself and Ovi.
She doesn’t place her faith in people easily, but while she’s struggled to trust Marcus again, he took care of her when he didn’t need to.
If what Marcus said of the Tredici is to believed, he gave up his strength to heal her, when he could’ve taken her back to her own room and let her die there.
And he did so without hesitation.
She brushes her fingers along the parts of her body where he touched her.
Waking up this morning in his arms, his fingers curled around her upper arm, her nose nuzzled in the crook of his neck, she barely breathed for fear it was another dream.
That she would wake up without knowing the true feeling of having his arms around her.
Lying there in his bed with him before what happened that night caught up with her, she was content. She’s never felt safer or more comfortable in all her life—that has to mean something .
Despite the things he said to her last night.
The more she thinks about what happened after the brawl in the tabernae, the more she understands why he had to do what he did.
She’s known men like the ones who interrupted them, and treating her like a common whore he’d already sullied probably saved her from some of the things they might’ve done. Not that she would’ve let them.
And while Marcus is their superior and could’ve told them to move on or suffer the consequences, creating dissent among his own men with the threat of the Imperium already inside their borders wouldn’t have been wise.
She touches her lips, regret poisoning her stomach.
A part of her wishes she’d kissed him last night—taken what she wanted for once in her life.
But given what lies ahead for them, the rational part of her knows it’s for the better.
They’ll need to work together in the coming days and kissing someone who isn’t interested in you would greatly complicate things.
Staring out at the sea a while longer, she contemplates what her end will be.
This time, dragon’s fire tried to kill her.
Less than a week ago, flaming arrows sought to snuff her out.
Death haunts her every step, stalking her close enough for her to wield it herself.
But last night, faced with a creature she’s never encountered before, she felt true fear for the first time in a very long time.
A knock sounds at her door. Likely Sabina again .
“Come in.”
To her surprise, Cato saunters through the doorway instead.
She’s glad for it, especially after the night he had in the underground tabernae.
Dark blue eyes bright, he’s dressed in a simple blue tunic and brown belt today, with no crown atop his head.
She doesn’t know how it’s possible given how late they stayed out last night, but he looks like he got more than enough sleep for the both of them.
“Oh, Drusilla, don’t look so glum,” Cato chides, closing the door behind him. “After that display at the tabernae, I have no doubt you’ll fight your way to the top of the ranks with Marcus and me.”
“That’s reassuring,” she mutters, attempting sincerity.
His tone shifts. “Marcus told me about what happened.”
Her eyes snap to his, unable to hide the dread from her tired gaze.
“It was only a matter of time before you found out our secret. But I spoke with the high priestess this morning and it sounds as if the Viverna called to you.”
Ah, that secret. She didn’t dare admit hope for another—one she swore Marcus planned to confess before Sabina barged in.
“I won’t say a word about your sacred dragon. You can trust me.”
If the Imperium knew about the ancient creature, they’d do anything to obtain it. They barely need a reason to invade Anziano as it is, much less one that would provide them with near-absolute power.
He smiles. “I know I can. I’m fairly certain you hate the Imperium more than I do. ”
He crouches down in front of her and places his soft hands on hers. Pleasant warmth emanates from him, but it doesn’t have the same effect as Marcus.
“We’re going to get through this together, you know. You, me, Marcus. If we survive to the end, I’ll find a way for all of us to win.”
“I’m not worried about Marcus and I,” she admits. “We’ve been trained on every possible skill since we were children. You haven’t.”
He grins. “Fear not—I have a handy trick up my sleeve.”
“Unless you have another dragon hidden beneath your robes…”
Cato gets to his feet and places his hands behind his back.
“People often wonder why my family has remained in power since the inception of the monarchy, whether we ruled with fear or benevolence. But all we’ve done has been for the Durevolian people, with every weapon in our arsenal. Including the magic in our blood.”
She blinks at him. “Magic?”
He nods. “I should have told you this before, given your purpose here. However, I’ll do so now.”
Placing a ringed hand on his chest, he breathes in slowly, purposefully. When he breathes out again, a deep hum emanates from his throat, filling the room. His throat vibrates faster than a hummingbird’s wings, so subtle she might’ve missed it if she wasn’t looking at him.
As his voice deepens, the lanterns on her walls begin to quiver on their hooks, her bed shifting slightly away from the wall, the curtains over the balcony trembling. It reminds her of how the earth quaked beneath her during the Tredici ritual last night.
Dru’s mouth drops open. “You have humming magic?”
The humming stops, and her room settles again. “I do.”
Stellae, how did I miss that?
“How have I not noticed it before now?”
He chuckles. “It’s nearly impossible to tell when a person is using it, except for the intonations from the throat and the effect it has on the elements around us.”
“The elements? ”
He nods. “Those who are skilled enough at it can shake the ground, wield water, even create sparks from nothing. The same way the earth moving beneath us causes quakes and the wind blowing can rip trees from their roots, we disrupt the natural order around us and bend it to our will.”
“How?” she breathes.
He smiles. “You should ask the Tredici that.”
She cocks her head to the side. “Yes, I thought only the Tredici can wield it.”
“All the rulers of Anziano can as well. It’s our gods-given strength.”
When words evade her, he takes her hands again.
“The point of showing you that is, I don’t want you to worry about me when we’re out there. Though I don’t look it, I can hold my own.”
You certainly can.
“But isn’t that what I’m here for? To help you hold your own?”
He sobers. “We both know you being in Anziano isn’t my doing.”
Her heart stutters inside her chest at his meaning.
Swallowing, she asks him something she’s been wanting to from the moment she got there: “What has Marcus been doing the last six years?”
“I’ve been wondering when you were going to ask me that.
” He perches on the clothes trunk at the foot of her bed.
“Once he showed me the orders given to him by the Faithless, I placed him as the praetor and head of my king’s guard.
Per the treaty with the Imperium, Anziano isn’t allowed to have soldiers, so it was the best I could do.
Nonetheless, he threw himself into the work; the guard grew to what it is today under his watch. ”
But what has he been like ? She wants to ask it, but she’s too afraid of what his answer will be.
“We should eat,” she says, getting to her feet, “get your strength up before the trial. ”
Something like disappointment mars his brow. “As you command.”
Leaving Cato to mentally prepare himself for the trial after breakfast, Dru heads down to the competitor barracks for the first time, hoping the vague directions from him will get her there.
Taking the path to the Ammaliare Arena through Cato’s garden calms Dru in a way she didn’t expect. The arena will be chaos, but among his plants and tended soil, she finds peace.
It also helps that this path keeps her out of sight from the crowds of spectators no doubt flooding the arena at this very moment. She’s never performed in front of a horde of strangers before, and she wants to avoid them for as long as possible.
Once she nears the bottom, she chooses the narrower path to the right, directly beside the arena’s stone wall.
There, she finds a second, smaller entrance to the arena and the set of stone steps Cato mentioned to her, disappearing beneath the earth.
The bright glare of the morning sun casts the opening in empty shadows. Is this the right place?