Page 43 of The Prince's Captive

He immediately started yelling over Gavril, drawing every eye on the camp, and a flurry of whispers she couldn’t decipher swept through the men. She turned on her heel. Some of them weren’t looking at Gavril and the other commander at all. Quite a few were looking at her.

But not the way they had been that made her skin crawl and have to fight the urge to wrap herself up in blankets until she couldn’t be seen again. Most of them always looked at her like she was some kind of mud they couldn’t wait to sink their hands into and cover themselves in her filth just so they could tear her apart.

Now some of them looked at her the way she always looked at holy relics. Something untouchable no matter how desirable.

“—Abyss-tainted insanity—think I’m going to—kill me—see you—kill you—lupalike that—disgrace—”

Marcella had a hard time making out the few words she did in the older commander’s rant with the other Inimicus watching and whispering around her.

Gavril crossed his arms, letting the commander rant and rave. When the man finally sputtered out, panting for breath, his face a violent shade of red that matched his hair, Gavril raised an eyebrow and said, “—disobey a direct order—”

The redness ebbed from his face as he went ashen. “—serious—can’t be.”

Gavril said, “—serious—before I explained—know what I’m doing—perfect way to stop—not to speak—such terms again—”

His voice dipped to a volume so low she couldn’t catch anything he said beneath the increased whispers of the Inimicus men. She eyed them. Were all Inimicus soldiers incorrigible gossips or just these ones?

She assumed they were gossiping, anyway.

The older commander kept shaking his head as Gavril spoke, Gavril’s expression growing more severe, intent, and passionate with every word. He pointed toward her where she stood, and she tensed, having nowhere she could run as those who hadn’t been looking at her now all looked at her.

Some of them still looked at her like they wanted nothing more than to eat her alive, but more and more of them looked at her like she was too pristine to be sullied by human hands for fear of the consequences.

The older commander shook his head and threw up his hands. “—your own head be it—fake—horrible idea—you order—conditions—wash my hands of it—”

Gavril nodded and then started back toward her. He huffed as he saw all the men pretend like they hadn’t all stopped what they were doing to pay attention to the argument. He said something in his tongue, but she couldn’t catch a single word of it. Whatever it was had the men actually dropping what they were doing and starting to gather around. Gavril looked over the men and then he pointed to the heretic and said something, gesturing for him to approach.

Marcella cursed her weakness.

She should have thrown the necklace into the forest as they’d ridden that day. She should have maintained her silence on every single matter every time the commander had approached her. She should never have even looked at his snake-green eyes.

But… she’d practically given him permission the night before.

She cursed her stupid mouth.

She prayed to Asentai to make it fast. If the goddess showed her favor maybe they would drug her so she wouldn’t even feel whatever they were about to do to her.

She hadn’t even realized she’d bowed her head and was pressing it to her clasped hands until a hand was on her shoulder, gently squeezing it.

“Have it?”

She jerked her head so fast it collided with the one that had been leaning in to speak to her in her tongue. While the hit rattled her skull and made her aching head hurt more deeply, it was worth it to see Gavril jerk back, hissing and rubbing his nose.

Unfortunately, not bleeding or broken, it seemed.

Quite a few of the men laughed. The ones who still looked at her like they would love to rip her apart.

Gavril glared at them before he turned back to her and said, “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle. Have it back?”

She ripped the necklace off and slammed her hand into his chest, letting go of the metal piece and sending him back a half step at the force. He reached up and caught the necklace before it fell as he let out a half-wheeze and his brow furrowed. Then he glanced at the heretic and he sighed. He slid his own necklace off, grabbed her by the shoulders and whispered, “Keeping my promise. He won’t harm you. No one will.”

“Liar,” she hissed, jerking back slightly but not putting enough force in it to break away since she had nowhere to run.

The heretic didn’t seem too pleased despite what was clearly happening. He might be afraid she’d try to kill him again.

Well… if the opportunity arose…

Gavril just sighed and tightened his grip on her shoulders, moving her until he was satisfied with her position standing across from him, an arm’s length away. He reached down and removed the chains connecting her wrists, leaving the vitae cuffs on.

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