Page 16 of The Prince's Captive

Lies fell from his lips more frequently than rain from the sky.

“Really? How’d you get anything out of her underneath all that screaming?” Cyprian raised an eyebrow.

While Gavril was the one in charge of the mission, as a commander who’d had his cloak less than a year, he’d been appointed a senior commander to assist him on such an important mission. Of all the commanders, Cyprian would have been the last Gavril would have chosen if it had been up to him.

Unfortunately it had been up to Gavril’s brother, Nikias.

“I saw the scar with my own two eyes and ensured it was no illusion,” Gavril said. He crossed his arms to hide the way his hand flexed at the phantom sensation of running his thumb over the scar his brother had told him to look for. The one his brother had left on Hypatia over three years ago.

The scar had been precisely where it was supposed to be. The right width and length. But… it didn’t look over three years old. It looked a few months old at best.

Cyprian looked back at the command tent where Hypatia was and said, “Good. Then it seems we’ve outsmarted the Desero demon and her people. Or at least let’s hope we’re faster than they are.”

But Gavril wasn’t particularly knowledgeable in the intricacies of healings, especially regarding how the Sordes healed themselves. Maybe the scar just looked fresher because of their inferior healing runes and he was just used to how superior his people’s methods were.

The only person who would have a chance at confirming his suspicions or dismissing them and confirming her identity via the age of the scar would be the healer she’d already nearly killed. And the fact that she’d nearly killed his healer was another point in favor of her being the demon. From the soldiers’ report before, he knew the healer wasn’t going to go anywhere near her. And if Gavril did voice so much as a hint of suspicion, Cyprian would hear about it and get involved.

It was just a little doubt. It didn’t even make any logical sense. There was no possible way the Sordes could have known the ambush was coming in order to prepare a perfect decoy. The girl looked exactly as the Desero demon had been described and had an identical scar. Plus, knowing the Sordes weren’t as effective healers as they were, of course it made sense it looked different than what he would expect an older scar to look like.

He almost certainly had the Desero demon. But… he might not.

There were… other things that had started to feed into his doubts now that he was entertaining them.

It was strange the way she’d seemed to not understand anything they said in their language. All of their accounts of Hypatia said she was extremely intelligent, and had on previous occasions spoken in their tongue and made tactical decisions one only could if they understood their tongue.

Also, the last thing Gavril had expected upon capturing and meeting the legendary Hypatia for the first time was for her to tremble and cry out in fear when faced with their vitae-limiting cuffs. She was an interesting creature, no matter what else.

“Commander?”

Cyprian’s voice ripped Gavril out of his thoughts. He didn’t have nearly enough real reason to believe she wasn’t the Desero demon to disrupt the whole mission. He just had a lack of knowledge and a feeling. Logic needed to come first.

“If she’s as intelligent as everyone says, then my plan will work,” Gavril said, keeping his voice low even though he was on the other side of the camp from her. He tightened his grip on his arms and kept his gaze lowered as he said, “I gave her my name, and while she might be playing dumb about some things, no one is that good of an actor. She didn’t recognize my name; she doesn’t know who I am, which I’m not sure if we should be grateful for or not. Right now, I’m inclined to think it’s a good thing since she might be more inclined to trust us. As long as we treat her respectfully like we would a Runai woman, we can win her trust and when it’s time to negotiate with her people, our treatment of her will be proof we want real peace. And when her clan agrees to peace and tells the others about how we dealt with her honorably, peace will spread.”

Cyprian laughed so loudly it caused the men by the fire closest to them to startle and stare at them before Gavril narrowed his eyes and they went back to their dinner.

“What is so funny to you?” Gavril snapped.

“You. I see why my niece looks at you with stars in her eyes.” At the mention of Cyprian’s niece, Aimilia, Gavril tensed, but Cyprian continued on, “You think because you’re nice to her the demon will somehow adopt your notion of peace. Look at her. It’s been less than a day and she’s already shown her true colors. Her superiority and how she looks down at everything despite the fact that she’s the savage. She nearly strangled our healer to death. That is not a creature interested in peace.”

“I’m sure she’s interested in saving her people’s lives,” Gavril snapped. “She might be a demon, but she’s still the heir to a clan. That has to count for something.”

Cyprian rolled his eyes. “It’s your effort to waste. If you want to let her keep up the charade of not understanding us so you have to fumble your way through her language, trying to see if she’s worth more than leverage against her father and betrothed, be my guest. As long as when we get back to Areator you—”

“I know what I need to do when we get back to Areator, Cyprian,” Gavril snapped, his hand drifting to his other pocket where two pieces of metal sat. Of course Cyprian hadn’t just mentioned Aimilia for no reason. The entire mission had been filled with not-so-subtle reminders about it.

Gavril’s other hand brushed over his shoulder before he could stop himself. There was no illusion there. He hadn’t needed to cast an illusion for several days now that the bruise was gone. Still… it was habit. Making sure to maintain his illusions.

He rolled his shoulders and dropped his hand. “Trust me, my father and mother made themselves clear on their expectations as well. Besides, if I wait any longer, Aimilia will break my arm again.”

“Only if you make the mistake of agreeing to spar with her,” Cyprian said, shaking his head with a grin. He clapped Gavril on the shoulder, and the force of it made Gavril especially grateful the bruise he’d left Areator with was gone. “House Mitis couldn’t be more thrilled. Now let’s just get back to Areator with the Desero demon to make sure it happens.”

Gavril just waved him off and made his way toward his tent. He had no interest in sitting around with the soldiers as they ate or finished up their tasks for the evening. His hand slid into the pocket with the metal pieces. He ran his thumb over the smooth metal.

In his other pocket, he ran his thumb over the ridges of the gold lilies.

As he passed by a group of men feeding the horses and rubbing them down, he heard one of them say, “—might be, but come on, you can’t say you wouldn’t. Even she-wolves still have soft fur. If the whole point is to ruin the alliance between the clans—”

Gavril loudly cleared his throat and directed his gaze toward them. The soldier speaking blanched and bowed, nearly slamming his head into the horse’s hoof he was picking.

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