34. Drusilla #3
I cannot handle much else.
“You should trust Marcus Scaevola as much as you once did. The two of you will need each other for what’s to come.”
Dru swallows hard. Normally, she wouldn’t take the priestess at her word alone.
But she’s found her way back to placing her trust in Marcus again, though he continues to harbor important secrets from her.
He has his reasons—reasons that she knows aren’t to keep her in the dark for the sake of it.
Because, in the end, she trusts him more than anyone else.
“I do—I will,” she amends.
Ginevra nods.
“Through the veil, you’ll find the Viverna waiting for you. Now that you hold his fire in your blood, he will not—and cannot—harm you.”
Ginevra steps away before Dru can answer. “I wish you strength and luck tomorrow, Drusilla Valerius.”
“I’m going to need it,” Dru mutters as the priestess leaves her standing alone on the beach, with only the sounds of the sea to keep her company.
Clenching her hands together outside the cave, night begins to fall over the shores of Anziano. Each time she resolves to go in, uncertainty roots her to the spot.
Out here, she’s still the woman who joined the Faithless after the Imperium destroyed her entire world, who knew little of her past and found contentment with that.
Once she steps inside, she’ll become the woman whose mother lied to her about where she came from, about the truth behind her heritage.
Inside that cave, she’ll be forced to face her destiny as a woman of this land who possesses humming magic in her bones and dragon’s fire in her blood.
Taking a breath, she steps through the veil.
Darkness surrounds her at first, followed by the light of the torches on the walls. Do the flames ever die? Or are they kept alive by the humming magic? She’ll have to ask Ginevra the next time she sees her.
The beast at the center of the room draws her attention and she finds she no longer cares about the answer.
Free from his cage, he’s about the size of a very large horse, laying on the ground.
His dark green scales flicker in the firelight, bright red spines protruding from his back.
The end of his tail curves in, splitting into two more, larger crimson spines.
At the sound of her footfalls on the sand, his eyes crack open.
They’re just as she remembers them: bright yellow at the center and darkening to orange on the edges, black pupils the shape of almonds.
His spiked tail flicks as he lifts his head but otherwise he doesn’t move.
A metal chain, like the one on the lion, has been fitted around his neck, binding him to the stone wall behind him.
This is unfair , she can’t help thinking, and has a terrible urge to set him free.
But, considering all the Phaedrans present in Anziano, they can’t risk him being seen.
Heart pounding loudly in her ears, she approaches him.
He watches her with mild interest. Closer now, the smooth surface of his scales’ teardrop-shape flickers, revealing the brighter greens imbedded within.
He huffs and smoke curls out of his nostrils.
If there’s any heat from it, she can’t feel it, and the smoke doesn’t choke her like it should.
Putting out a hand, she says the only thing that comes to mind: “Aequanimitas, amica.” Calmness, friend . A phrase from her training she would’ve forgotten if not for Marcus. She warms at the memory in the stables in Nusquam, a lifetime ago now.
She has no idea if it worked, but at least the Viverna doesn’t attack her. He barely moves at all. Slowly—painfully so—she lowers her hand onto the top of the beast’s head and touches his scales.
He sighs, as if content with the contact. Dru’s not sure what to do, her pulse thundering along her limbs.
His scales are harder beneath her touch than she imagined, not like leather or fur but more like hard glass. Something passes between them—it shoots up her back and warms her chest.
She crosses her legs and sits down in front of the ancient dragon. Dread should be coursing through her at the thought of being burned alive again, but it isn’t. Now the initial fear has passed, she feels bonded to this creature, tethered in an intangible way as with no other being.
Although, if any person were to claim it, Marcus would. If it weren’t for the likelihood of him being burned to death, she’d wish he were here with her.
The Viverna gently presses his head into her hand and closes his eyes, and she finds peace.
The night wholly engulfs Dru as she makes her way back to the palace.
The imposing darkness makes it difficult to follow the path, but she finds she knows the trail well enough now she doesn’t need light. I came to know this place without realizing it.
Trudging through the garden, she finds Cato laid out in the tall grass, hands behind his head and staring up at the sky.
She smiles. Instead of asking him what he’s doing, she lays down beside him, measured breaths and comfortable silence passing between them.
Bright stars dot the clear sky, celestial clouds forming around them as if storms rage in the heavens.
“I’ve been all over the Imperium,” she says finally, “and I’ve never seen stars this vivid.”
Cato’s chest rises and falls. “Anziano is a special place. And I’d say that whether I was its king or a peasant.”
She places her hands behind her head too, and their elbows touch comfortably. “Remember when we first met, and you told me the island would reveal its secrets to me?”
He chuckles. “I hated to sound so mysterious, but you wouldn’t have believed me if I told you the full truth.”
“No, I wouldn’t have.” She takes a steadying breath. “Did you know my mother was a high priestess of the Tredici?”
“Ginevra told me the moment she saw you at the ceremony. She said you’re as beautiful as your mother was.”
Tears bite behind her eyes, blurring the stars. She’s not mad at Cato for keeping that secret from her. He’s right—she wouldn’t have believed him.
“I miss her.”
He bumps her elbow with his, speaking softly. “The scars left behind by those we love will never leave us. They become a reminder of who they were, and who they helped us become in life and in death.”
A single tear slides down her temple and into her hair. She doesn’t wipe it away. Ovi, her mother—nearly everyone she’s ever cared for is dead. Is she cursed? Or does she bring bad luck upon herself ?
“When this is all over, will you teach me how to use humming magic? I don’t trust the Tredici.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “It would be my honor.”
Silent rests between them again, the soft crashing of the ocean waves nearly lulling her to sleep.
“I wish you would put Marcus out of his misery,” Cato cuts in.
“He’s miserable?” Dru scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Cato finally sits up and glares down at her. “For someone who’s supposed to be intelligent and learned, you’re not very bright.”
She sits up too. “That’s rude.”
His blue eyes darken with the night. “It’s not my place to tell his part, but I care about you both and you two belong together. Whatever it is that’s keeping you apart… it shouldn’t matter. At least, not for tonight.”
He glances up at the starry sky. “There’s a chance none of us will be alive to see another night like this one.”
Her heart lightens as she watches him. “You care about him.”
“I love him like a brother.” He finally meets her gaze again. “And you’re the only woman I’ve ever known to make him smile.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, he gets to his feet and leaves the garden.