Page 101 of The Prince's Captive

The next time Marcella was brought out again, there were too many books spread out for sparring to be their task that day either. This time, there was also a basket next to him and a blanket spread out over the grass.

The second she stepped out of the peristyle and her guards let go, she was on high alert. If she was going to outmaneuver him, she needed to know exactly where all his moves were going and to what end.

Maybe Hypatia was expecting too much of her. Maybe she was expecting too much of herself.

Gavril was on his feet and heading her way before she could assess it thoroughly. He called out to her, “Marcella, come!”

She forced herself not to choke on the syllable. “Gav.”

Again, he lit up.

That was a good thing. This was what she needed.

At least that’s what she told herself to assuage the dark rolling in her core.

He took her by the arm and started leading her after him toward where he was set up. She looked at the basket on the ground as they walked, spotting an assortment of fruit, bread, cheese, and water.

Well, she supposed Gavril had to eat sometime.

He sat her down on the blanket, right beside the basket, before sitting next to her. She looked over her shoulder at the books and scrolls set away from them. She blinked. “Are we not continuing where we left off?”

“After we eat.” Gavril uncorked the waterskin and took a small sip before holding it out to her with a small smile. “It’s stuffy inside the palace. I’ve missed eating in the sunlight and fresh air. Haven’t you?”

Marcella took the waterskin, unable to stop her own lips from twitching up at the familiar gesture. “I suppose.”

As she took a sip, he continued pulling things out of the basket. When she moved to pass the waterskin back to him, he caught her hand. He pulled the waterskin out of it without releasing her hand.

Her breath caught in her throat.

What was he up to?

He corked the waterskin and set it down before slowly looking up into her eyes while he held her right wrist in his. She didn’t know what he was looking for, but before she could figure out if he found it or not, he reached up with his other hand, a key in his fingers.

Metal clicked.

Then he was pulling the limiter off her right hand.

It fell out of his hands and to the ground with a soft clatter. Marcella choked on her breath as the muffled, nauseous feeling that she’d become so used to started to fade. Gavril kept his gaze lowered as he took her left wrist into his hand and unlocked the limiter cuff there as well. It fell to the ground, but he didn’t release her hand.

Marcella’s breath stuttered again as the full force of being able to access her vitae again hit her like an avalanche. Gavril just kept his head bent low over her left wrist. His hand slid across her skin, sending a shiver down her spine as his warm palm passed over the skin where for so long she had only felt cold, heavy metal.

Then his fingers traced over the lines tattooed onto her skin, mirrored on his own left wrist. And… something strange started to happen. A power rising to the surface. Vitae shifted up to the lines on her wrist as his fingers traced them. But… it wasn’t right.

No, right wasn’t the correct word. It didn’t feel wrong or out of place. It just wasn’t her vitae.

The lines glowed ever so slightly wherever the tips of his fingers traveled. Her wrist was held so her palm faced up as his palm curled around it, leaving his own wrist resting in her loose grip.

Before she even knew it, her own fingers moved, brushing over the lines.

The second her fingertips touched the lines on his wrist, vitae surged up to meet her fingers. And this? This power she recognized.

It was her vitae. Under his skin. A token. A minuscule amount not fit for anything more than glowing, but still it was hers.

So if her vitae was under his skin, and the vitae under her skin wasn’t hers… it had to be his.

His vitae wasunder her skin.

This…thingwas so much worse than she’d imagined.

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