Page 59 of The Prince's Captive

Gavril pressed her into his chest, but she turned her head behind her to see the crown prince gaping at them. He blinked, then he shook his head.

“—not the demon—too short—how—looks—” the crown prince then directed a dark look toward Gavril and snapped. “—not look—told you exactly—only the demon—scar.”

Before Gavril could respond, the king cleared his throat and every eye turned from the scene the crown prince had been making to the king. He looked bored, but his tongue was sharp. “—meaning of this?”

The older commander looked absolutely bewildered, and he started stammering, “Hypatia of Clan Desero—your orders, retrieved before she could—with Clan Montis.”

The crown prince scoffed and crossed his arms. “—not the Desero demon—word—occurred last week—looks like her—not her.”

The older commander’s eyes widened, and he straightened up fully to turn on his heel and gape at her. He snapped at Gavril, “—saw the scar—to her—demand—”

Before Gavril even had the chance to do whatever the other commander asked him to, the king was speaking again, “—fake—real one got away—of no worth—failed—bigger problems than—sordidus lupa—give her—healers—done—”

Despite the peace she’d been trying to find about ending up on one of their tables, she couldn’t help the way her heart fell to the floor and she stepped further into Gavril’s arms, the tiniest of noises escaping the back of her throat.

“Steady. I am with you,” Gavril whispered in her tongue. His grip on her tightened before he switched to his language. “No.”

“No?” the king let out a soft laugh, and to her surprise, there wasn’t complete fury in his eyes at Gavril’s outright refusal. “—something else in mind—boy?”

The crown prince stepped even closer, eyeing the cloak and Gavril’s arms wrapped around her anew. He said, “—tell me—soft—to asordidus lupa—fun—but—home now—”

Gavril’s hand slid under the cloak and he laced his fingers through hers. He shifted, and beneath the fabric, she felt his fingers moving, then a click. The limiter cuff on her left wrist fell away. Before she could do more than let out a soft gasp at the sensation of her vitae no longer being fully muffled, he was turning and tugging her forward. He flung their hands up into the air and out from under the cloak.

He held her left hand up with his right, exposing the marks and the bracelet.

A flurry of voices all started at once and Marcella couldn’t make out any of their words as they all gaped at the metal on her wrist and the lines on her skin. She stumbled toward Gavril as he turned their hands, showing her wrist to the crown prince.

“—a moment to speak—thank you not to speak ofmea sponsa—terms,” Gavril’s voice was clear in her ear and the only one she could make out just a fragment of.

The king lifted his hand as he rose from his throne and the room fell silent. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gavril swallow thickly and heard his breath hitch.

“What have you done?”

The older commander had lost all his color and started speaking so rapidly she couldn’t translate a word.

Gavril lowered their hands but didn’t release her palm. He was gripping her hand like she was the only thing keeping him steady.

She didn’t think she’d ever held onto anything the way he held onto her.

Other than her faith.

Even that—

“—only agreed—wash my hands—but invalid—meant to stop alliance—temporary—wrong—” The older commander finished.

The king turned to Gavril. “—true?”

Gavril squeezed her hand once before releasing it and then his fingers moved, and the illusion over his left hand vanished. He stepped forward, holding his hand out so the king could see the rune etched onto the metal. “—nomenMarcella—valid as your own—”

The older commander shook his head. “—Sordes—Majesty—illusion—cannot be—”

Gavril immediately took her left wrist into his hand and started to run his fingers over the lines. And they started to glow.

Marcella’s own choking gasp was lost beneath the rest of the court’s. They hadn’t glowed since they’d first appeared—what was he doing?

But the feeling of vitae again… There was something different about this.

She just stared down at it, at whatever Gavril had done that tied her to him. When he pulled his hand back, the glow faded, and she jerked her hand back and pressed it into her stomach. Gavril’s hand settled on her shoulder, keeping her close, not that she would get far even if she was stupid enough to try casting.

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