Page 125 of The Prince's Captive

Out of the corner of her eye, Marcella could see Aimilia’s knuckles turning white as she sank her fingers into her crossed arms. The other commanders were impassive, but Aimilia was clearly struggling not to react to whatever was going on.

Then one of the guards was grabbing her by her good arm and hauling her up, but a cry was ripped out of her throat as the motion still jostled her bad arm.

Nikias just gestured to her and raised an eyebrow as he said something. Marcella’s vision went dark for a moment before it cleared as the king nodded and waved his hand. When he did, she caught a glimpse of his left arm when it came out past the cloak. Huh. He also had lines on his skin and a bracelet.

Nikias nodded and gestured to her guards, and they started hauling her away. Beyond the haze of pain, she did think maybe she should have tried a little harder to understand the conversation because now she had no idea what was going on.

Were they sending for Gavril to come back and deal with his problem?

She hoped so.

Or at least she hoped they were going to just let her rot in her cell and not touch her until Gavril came back.

She was dragged out the doors, following behind Nikias. She hadn’t been conscious the first time they’d left the throne room, so she couldn’t be certain the direction they turned was to head back to the dungeons. But Nikias walked with a purposeful stride, chin held high and smirk on his face despite the fact that he had bags under his eyes darker than the Abyss.

Which, past Marcella’s nausea and roiling pain, was not a good sign.

Then there was the sound of footsteps racing toward them from behind. Marcella had barely lifted her head and started to turn it when a blur of red hair and a commander’s cloak flew past her and at Nikias.

Aimilia.

Nikias came to a stop and raised his hand, causing the guards to stop as Aimilia grabbed him by the shoulder and jerked him back so she could step in front of him. “—think anyone—”

Marcella tried to focus harder on translating now, but she was still fighting the urge to throw up.

“Stay out—don’t concern you,” Nikias replied as he stumbled, swaying on his feet.

“Concern—show you concern—vile, rotten—” Aimilia spat at him, her cheeks getting redder and her eyes burning brighter than her hair. “—dragged me into this—word out of—plan was a lie—up to all—wrong with you?”

Nikias stiffened, looking down at her, an intensity in his eyes that had Marcella wanting to run. “—never lied to you—respect you—for that—never showed me—respect I am—told you what you—know. As for the rest, how dare you?”

But Aimilia squared her own shoulders and lifted her chin. “—act all—manipulating me—using me—Gavril came back—ran out of the right words—make me—your will—should have known. I should have known—listen—word from your mouth.”

Gavril’s name had Marcella taking the tiniest step she could muster the strength for in the guard’s grip and a moan fell out of her mouth at the new aches. “Gavril?”

But the two Inimicus in front of her didn’t even seem to hear her.

“Helping you—helping you—Gavril came back with the demon.” Nikias crossed his arms. “—nothing you didn’t want—needed to hear—trying to give you what you want—this demon is—way—be grateful—saving my little brother—the demon—you will get what you’ve always wanted:Gavril.”

Oh. They weren’t talking about Gavril being back from his mission. But that was all Marcella wanted.

“—your mind—think that—Gavril—look at you—look at me for the part you—blame me—you—doing this for me—” Aimilia’s voice was sharper than one of their heretic’s knives as she flung each word at Nikias. “—doing this for yourself—always have been.”

They all seemed to bounce right off Nikias as he just tilted his head. But then he spoke, and his low, barely restrained voice betrayed him. “Choose your words carefully, commander.”

“Gavril—behind his back—someone whose—crime—corrupted vitae—appearance—despise her, do not mistake me—” Aimilia shook her head, one hand in the air silencing Nikias until she had finished “—seeing this clearly—not lose Gavril—her—crimes she—commit.”

Nikias took a step toward her, nearly closing the distance between them as he towered over her. Aimilia, however, just craned her neck back so she could keep glaring up at him. His voice cut through the air.

“You will—my way, commander—stay here—stay out—order, am I clear?”

“You—”

Whatever the words, Aimilia’s voice shook, and Marcella imagined they were insulting.

“—nothing new.”

But again they did not seem to faze Nikias.

---