Page 22 of The Prince's Captive

He muttered something in his tongue. “Contumax puella.”

She didn’t know what it meant, but if he was insulting her right after he made a huge fake show over someone else insulting her, she was going to have doubts about the actual quality of the Inimicus commanders. Maybe her people did stand a chance against them.

He pushed himself up off the log and moved away into the camp.

Marcella breathed easier and focused on her observations once more. With the night encroaching fast, she needed to catalogue information now before she couldn’t see how many men watched the borders of the camp.

They didn’t set up a command tent this time. It seemed they were keeping to the bare minimum, especially with a storm that seemed like it was going to break overhead at any moment.

The Inimicus cast a few light runes and started fires throughout the camp to replace the missing sunlight and the moon hidden behind the clouds. When the men broke out their rations, Commander Gavril started across the camp toward her again. She stayed perfectly still as he sat beside her again, a waterskin in one hand and rations in the other. He held them out like he had that morning.

She eyed them skeptically.

He let out a huff and broke a piece off the dry cake and ate it before holding it out to her again. She took it that time, and he repeated the process with the waterskin and then she took it. As she took a bite of the cake, he shook his head with a slight smile, the rune a soldier had set a few minutes before lighting him in a soft golden glow.

“Know… I’mRunai.” He held his hands out flat, the danger they posed to her ever clear especially after seeing him use his Inimicus magic on his own man. “Why drug when I have magic?”

“You’re Inimicus,” Marcella said as she reached for the waterskin and took a sip. That was all the reason she needed.

“Inimicus…” Commander Gavril tilted his head as if he were physically rolling the word around. “Word for my people, yes?”

Marcella kicked herself for replying at all.

When she didn’t respond again, he nodded. He took a bite of his own ration and Marcella wasn’t going to complain at the silence as they ate, but… she didn’t understand why he was sitting with her. She hadn’t had a guard physically beside her earlier, but she was in the center of camp with eyes on her at all times, so why did he now feel the need to keep watch on her?

Was it just because it was dark?

“Side better? No issues?”

Like he cared.

When she didn’t respond to that, he frowned and continued, “Scar. Burn did not bother? Healers not take care?”

He might as well have dumped a pitcher of water over her again. She forced herself to let out a normal, even breath despite the urge to hold it. She kept her eyes on the rations in her hands and watched him out of the corner of her eye. That sharp look was there, almost always there when he looked at her. Why was he asking about her scar?

Did he… suspect something even though he’d seen it for himself?

Would not responding deepen his suspicious? Why hadn’t Hypatia told her more about the scar?

“Better a scar than to let a heretic lay a hand on me.”

There. That shouldn’t raise any suspicion.

“Heretic?” The searching edge in his eyes faded as he repeated the word slowly. “Not—word is healer, yes? Heretic not—right?”

There. If there was any suspicion before, now he was too confused to continue considering it. Perfect.

She stayed silent. It would be smarter to let him struggle over that than provide any kind of answer. Keep his focus on his confusion and not her.

“Riding. Today.” He started again, his eyes falling to her hands holding the last bite of her ration. “You—no magic, so what were you doing with your hands?”

Maybe they weren’t as confident in their abhorrent cuffs as they seemed.

Marcella ate the last piece and took another sip of water, and she didn’t respond.

He let out a long sigh and pushed himself up once again now that they were both finished. But instead of walking off, he held his hand out to her. She narrowed her eyes at it.

He rolled his eyes and said, “Rest.” He then pointed at the clouds overhead. “Storm.”

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