Page 11 of The Prince's Captive

But it was too late. She was already inside the tent. It was tall enough to stand up in and clearly some kind of command tent, given the table inside with maps, one of which held the route she’d been on that morning. There were cushions on the ground by the table, the only designated place to sit, and the commander led her over to them. To her surprise, he gently helped her down onto them.

She would have expected to be thrown into them.

Or not near them at all, given that she was still half covered in mud and he liked to call her demon.

She didn’t like this.

She didn’t know what this exactly was, but she knew she didn’t like it.

It also very well could be what Hypatia’s second vision had been about, so she liked that even less.

If she wanted to put off the vision and try to ensure she lived a little longer, she needed to make sure he didn’t see her scar.

Chapter4

MARCELLA

The commander left Marcella there and moved about the tent, and she stayed perfectly still—she had no choice but to stay still, given her injured ankle and the irons pinning her arms down—as she watched him get a pitcher of water and some rags.

He shot a few glares at her over his shoulder as he did so and she heard him mutter the words ‘demon’ and ‘savage.’

He returned and sat on the cushion in front of her. He dipped a rag into the pitcher and then wrung it out. Every muscle in Marcella’s body tensed, but with her arms pinned to her side she couldn’t do anything to stop him as he came closer. Her breath caught in her throat as he grabbed her face with one hand and the wet cloth started to roughly rip across her mud-streaked face.

She tried to jerk her head back, grunting in the back of her throat as she tried twisting away from him. Her back hit the table as he shifted closer, not letting her go as he continued painfully scrubbing at her face and hair.

The commander did not have a gentle bone in his body.

He tilted her head to the side, his nails sinking into the base of her skull as he tried to scrub mud out of her hair but really only succeeded in tearing some of it and her hair out with the motions. She let out a sharp yelp when he did take some of her curls with his clumsy, meaty hand.

As he pulled the rag away and dipped it in the water to clean it, she managed to get her legs under her enough to shove herself to the right and slide out of his grip. Even this was far too close to the vision for comfort. If she made herself enough trouble, he’d give up on cleaning her up and let her wallow in her filth and Hypatia’s unfulfilled vision.

He immediately turned back and narrowed his eyes at her. He opened his mouth, but then his eyes landed on the lilies in her hair.

Marcella tried to duck out of the way, but with her arms chained to her sides she really wasn’t going far. He grabbed her and hauled her back into a seated position, setting the rag on the table as he grabbed her head again. When he started to reach for the lilies pinned into her hair, doing their best to hold her elaborate hair style and heavy curls, Marcella’s heart stopped dead in its tracks.

May she be cast into the Abyss before she let an Inimicus take gold lilies out of her hair and defile her people’s customs.

Better to be dead for the resistance than to see what might happen if she let him commit such an inappropriate, invasive act. As his fingers wrapped around the first pin, she let out a vicious scream and jerked forward. She slammed her forehead into the bridge of his nose, and the pain bursting through her own head was worth it when she heard his pained grunt and felt his fingers fall.

Unfortunately, one of the pins went with him. As her own pained, blurry vision cleared, she saw him dropping the pin onto the table with one hand as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose and muttered under his breath in his tongue. “—demon—”

Marcella was still too dazed from the headbutt to stop him from reaching for the next pin, pulling it out much faster and taking more hair with him despite her pulling back and screaming again. He dropped the second pin onto the table before quickly pulling back completely and rising to his feet.

Marcella was left on the cushion, her back still pressing into the table and chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath after screaming as he moved away from her. Away was good.

Mud was still lingering on her skin and caked into her hair. So whatever he was trying to accomplish he hadn’t. Maybe it had worked and he’d decided she was too much trouble. Unless he’d just been trying to get the pins out to rub his victory in her face and spit on her engagement.

Well, Hypatia’s engagement.

The throbbing in her head had just started to ease when she realized she’d lost track of where he’d gone in the tent. No, where was he—and that was when water crashed over her head and the cold sensation had her freezing in place as she became instantly soaked.

She looked up to see the commander setting an empty pitcher of water on the table next to the first with a smirk as he moved back in front of her with clean rags. She wanted to punch that smug, arrogance right off him. He spoke in her tongue with his horrid, thick accent, but his sick amusement still trickled through. “Behave like animal. Be treated like one.”

Marcella couldn’t stop her shivering as her now soaked hair was dripping down and soaking her peplos. He wanted to see an animal? Oh, she’d show him.

When he sat back in front of her with one of the clean rags, she reared her head back again, but he was faster. He caught her head with one hand and just tilted it back so she only saw the tent ceiling as he wiped at the mud on her neck. She wheezed from the pressure on the delicate skin as he dipped down to her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him move for the lily clasp.

She tried to twist her shoulder out of his grip. Even if she wasn’t actually engaged and she was going to die before any man ever did present her with lilies, she wasn’t going to let an Inimicus take them without a fight.

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