Page 32 of The Prince's Captive

It would also explain why she’d fought so hard when he’d taken them.

She took a long breath and looked to the side for a moment before speaking softly, “You need to stop doing that.”

What?

She looked back at him, her cheeks darkening further as she shifted back slightly. “You clearly know nothing. Those are betrothal lilies.”

So he was right. She was betrothed. He ignored the slight twinge in his chest at the revelation because it was wholly good news. Of course she was. She was a beautiful girl with strength and grace who was obviously a soldier. Of course one of her people—likely another soldier—had recognized that and secured her hand.

He held them out further. “Your promised then, he will come for you?”

Despite her ridiculously flushed cheeks, she huffed and narrowed her eyes at him. “No. I’m not betrothed. Those were just to make me look like Hypatia to fulfill her vision.”

Gavril wasn’t entirely sure he had his translation right. He didn’t know what she meant by ‘vision.’ Maybe it meant the same thing as plan? Regardless, he understood the rest well enough.

The lilies clinked together in his hand. “So… no one then? No promised?”

Somehow, that was the wrong thing to say as her grip on the waterskin tightened and she snapped, “That doesn’t make anything that you’ve done alright!”

Gavril wasn’t going to argue he had the moral high ground when he’d taken someone as a hostage to attain an advantage in negotiations, but it was all in the name of achieving lasting peace and ending the bloodshed. This, however, seemed more personal than that.

Was not being betrothed a sore spot for her? If they were only part of her disguise, why had she reacted so viscerally when he’d taken them?

“Taking them… wrong?” Gavril’s mind was spinning so much his tongue was slower and dumber.

The girl dropped the waterskin and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “You Inimicus aren’t as bright if your commanders are all this stupid. Of course taking a woman’s betrothal lilies is horrifically inappropriate and wrong—”

He didn’t know the right translation for the last part of her sentence, but from context, he assumed it was some way of saying when they weren’t married. Or it might have been when he wasn’t her betrothed. There was a word in there that he thought the literal translation of might be bond, but he wasn’t sure.

He understood the general objection enough to be horrified himself at what him taking them implied. No wonder she hated him so much.

Heat flooded his face, and he stretched his hand once more, stammering as he struggled to translate the thoughts he desperately wanted to express. But his desperation was only muddling his translation further. “I—I—no—didn’t know—here. Meant nothing—wouldnever—”

She shook her head. “Keep them. It doesn’t matter anymore. It was stupid anyway. They weren’t really mine.”

He closed his fist around them and pulled it back. Still, he needed to fix this somehow. “I am sorry. I did not know. Forgive me.”

Her head jerked back, and her eyes were wide as the red started to fade from her cheeks. She stared at him, and he hoped she saw the sincerity in him.

Her lips were parted slightly and she took a short breath before she whispered, “It is forgotten. Please. Forget it. Just—throw them in the dirt. I don’t want to see them again or remember it.”

He pulled his hand back and dropped the set of lilies into his pocket. His heart was in his throat, but before he could get the translation of what he wanted to say right, she spoke again.

“Consider it even. I will forget it ever happened as thanks for you not revealing to the other commander and your men I’m not your prize.”

He supposed that was as good as he could ask for at the moment despite the urge to ask for more.

Then she tilted her head and asked, “Why exactly haven’t you told anyone?”

He blinked and shook his head slightly. “Told you. Meant my promise. No harm.”

But instead of receiving a scoff or her rolling her eyes, she just pulled her legs in tighter. He couldn’t tell if she finally believed him yet, but she just nodded toward the tent flap he’d secured and said, “What is it you say? Rest. Long day ahead?”

He couldn’t help his soft laugh, but he did shift back and start to untie the flap. He said, “Yes. We do.”

He decided not to push further. He’d finally made some progress and he didn’t want to lose it.

Once he’d lowered the flap, he heard some shuffling on the other side and he reached for his own bag, pulling out his notebook and jotting down what he’d learned. He hadn’t written anything down about the girl not being Hypatia in case a soldier who didn’t know what was good for him started snooping, but just cataloging his observations of her. Just enough that he would know them but not so much detail or his thoughts that anyone else would be able to put together what he had.

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