36. Marcus
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
MARCUS
I love you. I love you. I love you.
He wanted to say it a hundred times last night, the confession haunting his thoughts since the moment Dru walked inside the tabernae in Nusquam with Ovi.
Even with her hood obscuring her features, he recognized her—recognized the gentle curves of her lips, the heart shape of her face, the gilded rings in her eyes.
He’d know her anywhere, and yet his memory of her was like a painting poorly drawn from memory.
He wakes up in the middle of the night with those words in his thoughts and on his tongue.
The three simple words can’t begin to describe the truer depths of his feelings for Dru. He would burn Phaedra to the ground and slaughter every senator in the Imperium if it meant that she’d be safe, that he could hold her in his arms for the rest of their lives.
Yet, as much as it pains him, he can’t say those words to her. Not yet.
Despite his best efforts to restrain himself, a variation of them managed to slip out in the Durevolian tongue before he could stop them. Thankfully, sleep had already taken her .
If everything goes according to the plan he and Cato came up with should the worst happen, she’ll be out of his reach.
Saying it to her—admitting it aloud—might make him change his mind.
Not as if what happened didn’t change everything , but he might be tempted to take her and run, leaving Cato to fend for himself in the final trial.
And he can’t allow that.
Remembering her confessions, how her body felt against his, how she responded to his touch… He’d imagined it thousands of times before, but nothing he conjured in his own mind lived up to the reality. Last night was, without a single doubt, the best night of his life.
He pulls Dru to him, missing her body against his despite the warmer night?—
A loud banging at his door causes him to flinch.
Dru stirs, pressing the top of her head into his chin and curling into him.
Want and lust cloud his judgment as her nipples brush against his chest. His hand flattens on the small of her back, his cock hardening again at the softness of her body against his.
Another knock comes, louder and harder. He groans.
“Tell them to go away,” she murmurs, voice pleasantly rough with sleep as she arches into him.
Stellae. Clenching his hands to stop from touching her, he moves to get up, planning to do just that as quickly as possible. But she places her arm over him, barely opening her eyes in the near-darkness of his room.
“No, from here. They don’t need to see you for you to tell them to fuck off.”
He chuckles, brushing her wild hair back from her face. “I would, but I might be needed.”
Her eyes flutter closed again and she removes her arm. “Go on, then.”
Quickly pressing his lips to hers, she responds in kind, softening.
He crawls out of bed, throws on the tunic he shucked off earlier, and opens the door barely enough to see who it is .
One of his younger guards, Gio, holds a bloody shirt in his hand, eyes wide in fear.
Marcus’s pulse rises instantly, and he opens the door wider, still blocking any possible view of the bed. Ice slices down his back, fear and duty replacing all thoughts of going back to Dru.
“Gio, what is it? What’s happened?”
The young man gulps in air, and Marcus fights not to lose his patience.
“The king,” he wheezes. “Someone tried to assassinate the king.”
Panic seizes Marcus, but he tempers his reaction. Gio said tried , which means Cato is still alive.
“What’s been done about the attacker?”
Gio tightens his grip on the shirt in his hand. “Dead. He’s dead.” Likely by Gio’s own hand. Good.
“And the king?”
“Alive.”
Marcus nods, glad to hear it confirmed. “Stay at Cato’s side until I get there.”
The boy agrees in a muttering of unintelligible words and retreats, while Marcus shuts the door.
First, he goes over to Dru. Kneeling beside the bed, he places a kiss on her forehead. Blearily, she opens her eyes, a soft smile on her lips.
“Coming back to bed?” she asks.
Stellae, what I wouldn’t give to be able to do that.
“I can’t. There’s been an attempt on Cato’s life.”
Her eyes shoot open and she instantly untangles herself from the sheets. Scrambling off the bed, she hurries unclothed over the spot by the balcony where her discarded nightgown lies in a heap. The nightgown he practically ripped off her last night…
Taking a deep breath, he focuses his thoughts on the task at hand.
“We should?—”
Dru flies out of his chambers before he can finish .
“Merda,” he swears, grabbing the belt with his sheathed dagger and hurrying after her.
A dozen of his guards crowd the courtyard; luckily, none of them spot Dru until she’s halfway to Cato’s chambers, completely unaware she came from his room. And it’s going to stay that way .
She barges in through the double doors without so much as a knock, Marcus at her heels as he finishes tying his belt around his waist.
Blood pools just inside the door, but the body it once belonged to is gone .
Someone must’ve removed it already. Shattered pieces of clay scatter across the floor, bedsheets flung into the corner.
Gio is nowhere to be found, but the boy likely went to go vomit outside—so many do after their first kill.
Cato’s bed, however, lies empty.
Marcus finds him standing at the window instead, staring sightlessly out into the lightening sky through the mulberry roots.
“Cato,” Dru breathes, bounding up to him and throwing her arms around him the moment he turns around at the sound of her voice.
He doesn’t return the affection at first, which is unlike him.
This must’ve rattled him more than I thought.
Eventually, he wraps her in his arms, remaining that way for a beat.
Marcus almost expects to be jealous, but he’s not.
Cato is one of his most loyal friends and knows more than anyone else how Marcus feels about her.
Dru pulls away and takes a step back. “Why would any Phaedran try to assassinate you now, the eve before the final trial?”
Cato catches Marcus’s eye. “It wasn’t a Phaedran.”
“A Durevolian?” Marcus asks, brow furrowing. He can hardly believe it.
Dru’s voice rises. “One of your own people tried to murder you?”
“It seems they’re unhappier with me than I realized for allowing the Imperium to enter our borders, and want to rob me of the chance of achieving glory,” he says sardonically.
“I’ve been a fool thinking I could invite the Imperium in and my people would be glad of it.
That they would even tolerate it. I did nothing while my people took to the streets and called for the Imperium’s demise, while Ambitus spit on our traditions and sunk his claws into our country. ”
He shakes his head. “I do not deserve to be their king.”
“Once the trial is over, we’ll find out who did this,” Dru promises.
Cato glances at Marcus knowingly, eyes red-rimmed, and an understanding passes between them.
“Yes, we will,” Marcus promises her in return, knowing at least one of them in this room won’t be around to keep that promise.
Cato regards Dru. “I’ll be all right for tonight. Go back to your room and try to get some rest.”
She shakes her head vehemently. “I’m not leaving you.”
“It’s nearly morning—no one’s going to come after me now.”
Marcus can tell Dru wants to argue, but the fight leaves her quickly, her shoulders slumping.
“As you wish, Sovrano.”
As she leaves, she catches Marcus’s eye, and they, too, share a long look of unspoken words.
“Marcus, a moment please.”
Once the door shuts, Marcus walks up to Cato and embraces him. The king of Anziano trembles slightly in his arms.
Marcus pulls back, gripping his shoulders. “Did you know your attacker?”
“No,” he bites out. “He was low-born, not much older than you or I. He tried to kill me with a dull butcher’s knife.”
Marcus glances behind him. “How did he get in?”
“The man snuck past the guards at the front somehow, then tried to kill Gio first. The pair of them fell through the doors during the scuffle.”
Marcus considers this. “I’ll station at least two guards outside your door, and another two to keep an eye on your balcony.”
“None of it will matter if I die today.”
Marcus shoots him a look. More than awake now, he walks over and pours himself and Cato a cup of water from the jug on the table .
“It’s a terrible thing to have happened the night before the final trial.” He hands Cato the cup and gestures toward the chair for him to sit. The king collapses into it.
Peering into his cup, he drinks the entire thing, then leans forward to pour himself a healthy cup of wine instead. “Even without the attempted murder, my night was much worse than yours.”
Marcus’s cheeks heat at the possible insinuation. “What do you mean?”
“It means that sound carries in this place, and you left your balcony door open.”
Cato laughs at what must be the fuming expression on his face. “Don’t worry, I only heard you because my chambers are closest to yours and I couldn’t sleep.” He smiles blearily. “I’m happy for you, Marcus. Though it does complicate things.”
“It doesn’t,” Marcus argues. “What happened hasn’t changed my duty to protect you, or how much I care about her.”
“You can say it, you know.” Cato gulps down his cup of wine and pours another. “That you love her.”
Marcus crosses his arms over his chest, not meeting Cato’s eyes. “I’m afraid what’ll happen if I admit it aloud. That whatever gods might be out there will hear and hold it against me.”
Cato fails to hide his tired grin. “True, best not risk it.”
Marcus decides a change of subject is needed. “Did you get what you needed from the temple earlier?”
“I did.” He opens a drawer in his nightstand and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He doesn’t open it, holding it out for Marcus. “Keep it with you. For the last trial.”
He takes it but doesn’t put it away. “You’re trusting me with it?”
“I wouldn’t trust anyone else with the fate of my country, Marcus.”
Marcus scoffs, “Not even your own mother?”
“Not with this,” he admits. “I can’t depend on her to make a rational decision when my life is involved. ”
“If things go like we hope, neither she nor I will have to.”
Cato sighs. “One of my own people tried to murder me in my sleep tonight. I don’t have much hope for anything anymore.”
Marcus marches up to him. “You’re not allowed to give up either.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Cato finishes his second cup of wine. “I like living too much. And the Imperium will be more than happy to take everything from the people I love if I die. I can’t allow that.”
Pouring a third cup of wine, Cato gets to his feet. “Get some sleep. Or better yet, see if Dru’s still awake.”
Marcus glances outside, the sky continuing to rid itself of the black cloak of night.
“It’s too late. Morning’s nearly come.”
“An even better reason to leave me in peace.” He regards Marcus, bottom lip trembling, reddened eyes pleading. “Please.”
“As you command, my king.” Marcus bows his head and leaves.