26. Drusilla
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
DRUSILLA
T he temple bell tolls eight times the next morning, waking all of Anziano for the second trial.
Dru, of course, has been awake for some time, tightening the ties on her sandals.
Not that she could find much sleep in the first place—her mind refused to quiet.
Fighting, she knows well. But solving riddles?
The academic side of the Faithless training was never one of her strong points, mathematics especially.
Her only solace is that, if her history lessons serve her, the Durevolians have never been great mathematicians either. She can only hope their lot of riddles won’t feature it.
When Sabina came to her not long ago, Dru begged she be allowed to dress herself today. Though she did ask her to find a whip. She gave Dru a strange look but did as she asked, helping her secure it like a belt around her waist.
Two years after she took her oaths, one of her first marks was an animal trafficker. He cared more about his ego than anything else, so he kept very little from her when prodded. Including how the Imperium tames their lions. If the bard’s intel turns out to be true, she wants to be ready .
Lastly, she asked Sabina to relay the same message to Marcus and Cato, so they can prepare themselves as well.
As the last reverberations of the bell die out, she takes a moment to look outside her balcony.
Today is one of the few mornings the fog hasn’t surrounded them like a clinging blanket, allowing the sun to turn the sky a light blue.
The sounds of the waves crashing below set her on edge today rather than soothe her, the Multum Sea as tumultuous as her thoughts.
A lot can go wrong in a controlled environment like the maze, including extra traps the Phaedrans would’ve had time to set.
They can’t know which entrance to the maze the king will choose, which means they’ll have made the entire maze a booby trap, biding their time until the king reaches the perfect snare and damn the rest of the competitors.
She shakes her head. I need not to be alone with these thoughts.
Heading out of her room, she finds food set out on the table. Moisture still clings to her exposed skin despite the lack of fog, and the lingering chill in the air pricks at her arms.
Although she hopes she won’t have to avoid any traps, she dressed for the occasion: she found a pair of shorts that fit her in the clothes chest, which she happily put on underneath a slightly shorter tunic to give herself more room to move.
According to Cato, they’re allowed one small weapon, an easy choice for Dru.
The sheathed dagger flush against her hip reassures her.
Sitting down, she finds Cato mid-conversation with Sabina.
“—tolls ten times, the participants will take their places outside the entrances to the maze hidden beneath the arena.”
Dru’s not sure how they plan to remove the arena floor to allow the spectators to view the trial, but she doesn’t want to spoil the spectacle for herself. Besides, knowing how it works won’t benefit her.
At the sound of the chair being pulled out, Sabina blinks, finally noticing Dru.
“I see we’re already strategizing for the trial this morning. ”
Cato clears his throat while Sabina takes a steadying breath. Dru’s gaze shifts between them. She’s fairly certain she already knows what Sabina plans to say.
“I’m going to participate in this event.”
“No, you’re not.” Dru turns to Cato. “Don’t tell me you encouraged this.”
He throws his hands up. “She asked me how the maze trial normally goes. I merely provided her with the information, unaware of her true intentions.”
“Rat,” Sabina mutters.
Dru frowns. “What makes you want to participate? Don’t think I can live up to your name?”
Sabina shakes her head. “It’s not that. I want to do something , and this is the only trial I could manage. It’s nothing more than answering some riddles.”
“It’s not, though,” Dru argues, hoping she can convince Sabina not to compete.
“Even if you manage to get every single one of them right, which is unlikely for anyone, even Cato, the gamemasters will still throw something your way for daring to best them at a game they know all the answers to. Can you defend yourself against whatever traps they might set?”
Sabina opens her mouth but nothing comes out.
“She’s right, Sabina,” Cato says. “Drusilla has trained extensively for situations like these. I’m sure you could hold your own long enough, but your guilt isn’t worth your life.”
The same could be said for you, Cato.
“Besides,” Dru adds instead, “if they realize I’m not you and that we’ve been fooling them into thinking I was, they’ll kill us both.”
Sabina’s shoulders droop, and she hangs her head. “I feel so useless.”
“I chose this.” Dru places a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Never feel guilty for a choice someone else made.”
“Only Dru would get philosophical this early in the morning,” a voice says from across the courtyard .
Marcus approaches the table, wearing a similar outfit to hers, including the length of the tunic and the dagger at his side.
He’s already pulled his hair back loosely, displaying his growing beard and icy-blue eyes.
He grabs a plate and fills it as Dru does the same, swallowing hard against her racing pulse.
“She is wise beyond her years,” Cato defends her.
“Only because our way of life ages us.” Sitting down again, she points between Marcus and herself. “Physically, I’m twenty-four, but mentally, I’m somewhere between forty and sixty, depending on the day.”
Cato snorts softly. “No wonder you go to bed so early.”
She gently shoves his shoulder, choosing not to bring up how she stayed out all night with him and the bard.
“Not all of us had the privilege of growing up in a palace.”
Cato sobers, his voice taking on an edge. “Our hardships aren’t the same, but that doesn’t make mine any less legitimate.”
Before she can say anything, he gets to his feet, the legs of the wooden chair screeching against the marble.
“The pressures of ruling an entire nation while thwarting the Imperium’s constant attempts to conquer us threaten to crush me every day.
Since the Phaedrans have been here, I’ve barely eaten or slept.
The only time I’ve gotten any rest was the night of the festival, when I drank myself into oblivion. ”
Marcus speaks up. “She didn’t mean it that way, Cato.”
He turns his ire on Marcus. “I know, and perhaps that’s the problem. You treat me like I’m this fragile prince, but I never have been. I’ve been a lot of things, and now I am Sovrano Cato, King of Anziano. I don’t need your pity or your protection.”
Despite understanding where he’s coming from, anger simmers in her blood.
Did he forget everything she said to him a couple nights ago?
Maybe he was too inebriated to remember.
She nearly brings up that night, to prove his judgment isn’t always sound.
But she doesn’t want to betray his trust by saying it in front of Marcus.
“You mean the reason I’m here? ”
Cato’s laugh drips with contempt. “You’re here to train me, not protect me. You did the fool thing and volunteered for the trials yourself.”
“To save Sabina’s life,” she reminds him.
“Whatever you must tell yourself.”
Marcus stands now, his voice deepening. “Cato, that’s unfair.”
“None of this is fair, Marcus,” he yells, before taking a trembling breath and flexing his hands. “Forgive me—my anger is misplaced. I need to take some time to center myself before the trial today.”
Without another word, he stalks off to his chambers.
Dru watches him leave until he shuts the door behind him. “He’s in a good mood.”
“He has reason enough to be angry,” Marcus says, “but he shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
Of course, he shouldn’t have, but can she blame him?
“He’s right about one thing: we all need to prepare for today.”
“Hmm,” Marcus replies, clearly distracted.
She shifts toward him. “What is it?”
“Just thinking about how the Faithless always taught us to come into a situation as prepared as possible. But you can’t prepare for something you don’t have control over.”
She picks an errant string off his bare shoulder, and she could swear his breath shudders out between his lips.
“Preparedness is perceived control. It’ll only take you so far,” Dru says softly. “Good of you to finally be worried about something, though; I was concerned you didn’t care about your own life as much as the rest of us.”
He holds her gaze. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Standing alone before the empty wall and precipice of the underground maze sends bolts of anxiousness through Dru’s body.
Clenching her hands together, she waits impatiently for the arena floor to open up in the near-darkness.
Only faint torchlight illuminates her surroundings.
Muffled sounds of the growing crowd pierce through the movable ceiling; otherwise, she finds it to be unbearably silent.
Not one of the participants speaks, a tense energy filling the room like smoke.
The gamemasters kept with tradition and announced in the barracks that they’ve allowed the participants to choose their own entry point.
Which, of course, immediately put Dru on edge.
They’d be na?ve to think no version of a map exists somewhere, but maybe that’s exactly why they did it.
Even if Dru and Marcus and Cato did manage to find a shorter path out of the maze, they could’ve come up with more difficult riddles on those paths, and worse consequences if they get them wrong.
When the three of them entered the narrow hallway stretching around the arena from the barracks, Marcus chose a spot on the opposite end, with Cato positioning himself a few entries down from him. Dru decided on one at the opposing end—not that it’ll make much of a difference once they step inside.