Page 35 of The Prince's Captive

But Gavril knew no one was coming for her.

It didn’t matter because she saw her opening.

She’d noticed the silenced Inimicus, whenever he patrolled, spent more time glaring at Gavril than watching the forest. He also lagged and wasn’t as attentive as the others ever since he’d been silenced.

So when he was glaring at Gavril and there was a wide enough gap where no one else was looking, she slipped into the darkness.

She moved slowly until she was clear of the camp, out of sight and out of earshot. She had to be careful with her steps so as not to snap an errant twig or do anything that could alert someone that something was nearby. Her thin and worn-out sandals made for soft steps even if they weren’t sturdy. She also kept her hands wrapped around the chains of her manacles, keeping them from clinking together as she moved.

But once she was certain she was clear she started running.

It was much easier with two good ankles and a healed side. Even her ridiculous peplos—ruined beyond repair—didn’t hamper her too much. The chains linking her wrists clinked freely now that she was out of earshot, the only noise other than her breathing that could give her location away as she ran.

If she could make it far enough before they noticed, maybe Gavril would reveal she was worthless and not worth their effort to recapture.

Or they’d all come after her and kill her for making fools of them and trying to escape.

Or they would do anything to get their hands on a mage they could put under a heretic’s knife without consequence.

She prayed as she ran.

When she forced herself to slow to pace herself, she realized her footsteps weren’t the only ones around.

The second she started to turn around, she was blasted in the face with blinding light.

She immediately stumbled back, crashing into a tree and falling to the ground as she couldn’t see anything in the forest anymore.

She didn’t need to see. She just needed to run.

But as she tried to get up, she slammed into something impossibly solid and smooth for a forest. As her vision began to return to her, she could see the glow of vitae. She looked down to see she was standing on a rune.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

Then she saw who had cast it.

The silenced Inimicus.

It hadn’t been a miracle at all. It had been a trap.

He grinned at her with all of his teeth. The runes keeping him quiet glowed in the night against his skin. She swallowed thickly. She was caught. She didn’t dare reveal what little she knew of their language to do any pleading.

He walked up to the rune walls he had her trapped in, slowly, stalking toward her like she’d seen several of the cats other clan members had do when they were approaching a mouse.

Marcella stood tall and squared her shoulders, tugging on the chains, but the manacles didn’t budge. Her magic was still out of reach.

At least the chains made for some form of weapon if she could get them around his throat.

When he moved his hands, vitae glowing and adjusting the rune, she tried to run, but apparently he hadn’t banished all the walls. She slammed right into one again as he reached her.

Hands sank into the back of her peplos, and she was ripped back and slammed into the opposite wall. She flung a hand out and turned her arm until she had her chains wrapped around his wrist. She stumbled, jerking them tight and twisting until he made a hoarse, garbled noise. Before she could take advantage of it, she was crying out at the sharp pain in her head. Her hair was torn out while he ripped her head back.

She cursed her loose curls as she bent backwards, forced to release his wrist. A second later, her head was slammed into the wall. Her legs crumpled. She threw a leg out, stopping herself from going down completely as she tried to wrap the chains around his wrist again.

He lunged forward and grabbed her by the throat. Marcella gasped as he tightened his grip and used his other leg to sweep hers out from under her fully. She did get enough of her chains around his wrist that her dead weight falling on it made him stumble.

When she hit the ground, he stumbled again, shoving her wrists back to get the chains off him. She twisted, trying to catch herself, but all she managed to do was twist her own wrist, causing a short cry to rip out of her throat at the pain before she was being flipped onto her back. Then he knelt over her, crushing her windpipe in his hand, leaving her gasping and choking like he had when Gavril had silenced him with runes.

His knee pinned her legs down as he shoved his hand up into her jaw, tilting her head back into the dirt. He gripped her jaw and tilted her head from side to side and seemed to consider her intently, but with his dead silence and only her harsh choking breaths filling the air it was impossible to know what he was looking for in her features.

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