Page 49 of The Prince's Captive

She didn’t move for the bedroll. She just stayed where she was and curled onto her side, pressing against the edge of the tent. He muttered, “Contumax puella.”

But then he banished the light rune and plunged them into darkness.

She tensed again, but heard nothing. He didn’t so much as shift. Their breaths were the only noise now.

Her heart still raced but as the seconds ticked by and he didn’t move closer, didn’t raise a hand, and just sat there, it started to slow.

Whatever the true purpose of the runes marking her arm, it wasn’t for that night.

In the darkness she moved to clasp her hands together now that she knew this was the last chance she was going to get. Her sprained wrist throbbed and she felt the metal pressing against her skin deeper than she ever had before, burning her and binding her.

The choking sob that fell out of her mouth shocked even her.

Marcella had never been one to cry easily. Or ever.

She hadn’t cried when she’d been summoned by Chief Eustathios and told she was going to take Hypatia’s place or when she’d been given the scar to make her Hypatia’s mirror. When Hypatia had given her the scar, she’d screamed until she’d fallen unconscious, but she hadn’t cried. Not like this.

Years of biting her tongue, holding back, and lifting her chin and declaring what an honor it was to simply exist as part of Clan Desero despite the crushing loneliness she felt came spilling out. Every unanswered prayer cascaded out of her in sob after sob.

What had it all been for?

She buried her face in her right arm, unable to bear even acknowledging her left because she knew it would only make her desperate sobs worse. She’d prefer the pain that came from aggravating the sprain.

Her whole body shuddered as her cries were muffled against her skin and Hypatia’s ruined peplos.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been pressing herself deeper into the ground, trying to control herself and with absolutely none to be found, but the sound of another voice reminded her she wasn’t alone.

“Marcella…” A hand brushed her shoulder, and she jerked away, coiling in even tighter for what little protection it would provide her. “Please…”

She lashed out blindly with her foot, and it struck something with all the force her body could muster, and she heard some part of him hit the ground.

Blessedly, he didn’t try again.

At least that she knew of as she found herself long since out of tears. When she was completely empty, the exhaustion slammed into her harder than the invisible walls she had when she’d almost escaped. She shivered as the cold set in and curled into herself more tightly.

In the morning, she would be as void as the Abyss.

Chapter17

GAVRIL

This was not exactly the way Gavril imagined his wedding night would go. Nor had he imagined he would marry a Sordes girl who was the mirror image of the Desero demon.

He was supposed to capture the Desero demon, bring her back, propose to Aimilia, marry Aimilia, and do what was expected of him.

In the rush and terror of trying to let Marcella go after saving her from Mage Hirtus, his knowledge of her language had failed him. But he’d said it anyway.

“Vale.Fortassealtera vita.”

“Farewell. Perhaps in another life.”

He’d meant it. In what specific way, he didn’t really know. In another life, maybe they could have been friends.

No. He was good at fooling everyone else, but he couldn’t fool himself.

He’d meant in another life maybe they could have been more.

But it seemed it would be this life instead. The other life he’d been imagining had been a much kinder one. One where he wouldn’t be her captor. Where if the little spark in his chest had been given the chance, he might have been able to spark something similar in her. A life where he would stand a chance not to be the object of all her hatred.

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