Page 31 of The Prince's Captive

She took them, her dark gaze studying him as much as he’d been studying her, in a way that sent a thrill down his spine.

He couldn’t help it. He found her far more fascinating now that he knew she wasn’t the Desero demon than he did the demon herself.

As she moved to uncork the waterskin, he said in her tongue, “Pardon, did not mean to disturb… prayer?”

Translating what he wanted to say into her language was a painful mental process, and he had been finding that he’d been sounding more like a brute and an idiot than he wished he did in front of her.

She’d more than once caught him completely off guard with her clever responses, playing a part that surely was completely foreign to her so perfectly, he should never have figured out the truth. She’d made him have to physically bite his tongue to keep from smiling or laughing so much that he gave up more often than he resisted the urge.

She didn’t reply, just drank a sip and moved to eat her ration.

That was when she did respond. Often she didn’t, which dug under his skin and was making him crazy. Even now that she knew he was aware of the truth, she was still giving him near silent treatment.

The fact she hadn’t immediately started begging for her life or offering information to try to secure her safety was… interesting. Instead, the first thing she had done was this… prayer. She asked a goddess who had long since left them to their own devices to save her instead of the man who held her life in his hands. It was a foolish, naïve thing, but he could not deny he also admired her a little for it. She had a strength and a grace about her he had not seen before.

He should have just ignored the soldier who had demanded his attention earlier. He’d finally gotten her to speak and now the moment was long gone.

How was he going to solve this if she wouldn’t so much as give him an inch to work with?

She looked almost exactly like Hypatia by all accounts. Was she a twin or a younger sister? Maybe a cousin? Someone valuable enough for her people to be planning a rescue once Hypatia’s marriage had been secured? If someone was going to come for her, this could work out for both of them—well, Gavril could at least lessen what was going to happen to him when he returned back to Areator a failure either way.

Better to have lost the girl back to her people and be able to pretend he’d succeeded in catching Hypatia for at least a little while than to reveal he’d never had her in the first place.

He hoped.

“Same miracle?” he asked.

The girl’s lips twitched at that, and just that made him sit up a little straighter. Getting anything from her was a victory worth celebrating after all the effort he’d put in. She swallowed and said, “Same miracle.”

To live.

Gavril nodded.

All day she spent praying to Asentai like the goddess was somehow listening or even cared. All day she begged just to stay alive.

How could he live with himself if he was responsible for her death?

“Think…” Gavril fumbled with the words. “Answer?”

Her brow furrowed and she said, “I suppose every second I still breathe is an answer until I stop.”

Fair enough.

“If…” Gavril paused. He could not recall their word for rescue, so instead he switched directions. “Home. What then?”

He fought the urge to bury his head in his hands. She had to think he was the dumbest man alive; he could barely string a sentence together she’d understand in front of her.

He supposed it shouldn’t matter what she thought of him. If he managed to work out a solution, and even if he didn’t, he’d never see her again either way. Yet, he couldn’t help but care what she thought.

“I don’t know. Continue serving my people. Is that not what you’ll do?”

Alright. Not really what he was looking for.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the lily pins and clasps and held them out. He said, “Giver of these?”

Were they from her father? Mother? Sibling? Lover? Someone who would be coming to save her?

Her cheeks tinged pink the same way they had the last time he’d held them out to her, which was why if he were a betting man, he’d be betting on lover.

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