Page 13 of The Prince's Captive

He… wanted to try to fix her ankle himself? Why?

She would think they’d want her to have a bad ankle to help prevent her from escaping. Of course, if they thought they had to return her, they’d want to make sure she didn’t have a scratch on her, but they were in no rush.

If this was part of the revenge she’d heard him and the other commander talking about earlier, it was the strangest revenge she’d ever seen.

He pressed his hand to his heart. “No harm. Promise.”

“Do I really have a choice?” Marcella asked.

“Want to… stay hurt?”

No, she didn’t. But she also didn’t want Hypatia’s second vision to come true for as long as possible. She was also never going to just let an Inimicus use their disgusting healing runes on her.

“Yes.”

His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head. “Then right. No choice.”

He reached forward and grabbed her leg around the calf, pushing up the hem of her peplos just enough to expose the red, swollen and scraped ankle as he pulled it into his lap. She slid forward on the cushions with a choked gasp. His fingers moved through the air, forming glowing lines as he created his rune.

She squirmed and tried to pull away from the Inimicus magic as he cast with both hands, but he quickly grabbed her leg and his fingers just moved against her skin as he also held her leg in place. She could feel his magic going to work even though her own was out of reach. Her skin itched and she resisted the urge to reach forward and scratch at her ankle as the swelling went down and the throbbing decreased. Instead, she tried to turn over onto her front to crawl away, but the commander just pulled her leg back into his lap every time she tried.

Once he let go of her leg and his rune faded into the air, she jerked her foot back and curled it under her, throwing her peplos hem back over it. She curled in on herself and prayed to Asentai that was the only wound he thought she had and that he would leave her alone now.

His eyes immediately narrowed in on her side where the hole in her peplos was. Marcella should have known better. But at least now she had a good ankle to assist her.

She only got one foot under her to scramble away when a hand sank into the back of her peplos, jerking her back. The simple knot she’d done on her left shoulder completely fell loose the second his fingers sank into the fabric. Marcella screamed as loudly as she could, but it quickly turned into a cry of pain as he grabbed her by her side and hauled her back. Her peplos was hanging on only by the right tie as she bumped into the table, the commander muttering in his language under her screams and cries.

She could not let this happen. She couldn’t—

“Hold still,” he said in her tongue as he twisted her. He pinned her front against the table, her exposed side and back toward him. He caught her left arm right as she tried swinging her elbow into his nose. He tightened his grip and his loud voice ripped her own voice out of her throat. “Hiding something?”

Chapter5

MARCELLA

Marcella immediately stilled. Her highest concern had been that this moment was the last known moment she was alive.

But if he saw it and believed she was Hypatia, that at least bought her time. And…

Putting off the vision also meant putting off her own chance to escape. Until it occurred, she knew she was a prisoner, but after… no one knew what would happen. Possibly her death, but also far more unlikely, her escape. Still, until it occurred, nothing changed.

Now that she was silent and still, the commander’s grip on her arm loosened as he stared down at her, huffing for breath as well. He nodded and let go as he directed his attention to the now exposed burn on her left side. He said, “Good. No harm. Heal.”

If he was having doubts about whether or not she was Hypatia, she needed to move very carefully.

She startled when his hand brushed her back, but she refused to look at him. That seemed like what Hypatia would do in this situation. She was annoyingly stuck up most of the time.

But she couldn’t will away the sensation of his fingertips brushing her skin. Apparently, the commander did have a gentle bone in his body.

She felt his fingers gently shift her peplos to the side further, exposing the burnt skin. She could feel the second the cool night air hit the scar that curved from her waist around to her back, resting beneath the burn that was on her side and stomach. His breath hitched. Hypatia had done an excellent job replicating it. The commander’s fingers brushed over the scar, and Marcella squeezed her eyes shut, but the water still spilled out over them.

Resisting this moment had been futile. The future was foretold. It was always going to happen.

All she could do now was pray that what followed would be an escape instead of death.

The pad of his thumb ran over the length of the scar. He was an Inimicus illusionist. He probably wanted to ensure it was real. Illusions were Inimicus magic, deceptive just like them. But even if her people had runes for such lies, that wasn’t the case here. That scar was painfully real.

He didn’t linger on it. The warmth of his thumb left the rough raised skin as he moved back to the burn. She bit her tongue as the pain went tearing through her skin and managed to muffle her cry into a soft noise in the back of her throat she hoped he was too busy looking at the wound to hear.

---