Page 6 of The Prince's Captive

The blond commander stepped away and let the two Inimicus take her by her arms and lead her away as he started walking off with the older commander to the largest tent in the camp. As she hobbled along, her heart pounding, the two Inimicus didn’t look at her while they led her through the camp. She, however, was looking everywhere. There were small tents set up throughout the grounds that the Inimicus soldiers went in and out of.

It didn’t look like a permanent camp, likely just set up for this mission and was going to be torn down quickly when they were done. She needed to memorize the layout, but before she could start cataloguing it in her mind, she was being shoved into one of the larger tents.

Two Inimicus were already in there. One was holding his arm, a clear vitae burn on it, and another held his hands up and fingers were moving through the air as a rune glowed over the burn.

Marcella stiffened immediately.

An Inimicus “healer.”

Or as her people knew them, heretics. They were the most twisted of all Inimicus mages. The things they did to the bodies of her people—to the bodies of their own people—living and dead. It was a horrific violation, and it spat in the face of Asentai. They didn’t even keep their own people whole after death. They couldn’t put them to rest properly and send them to Asentai’s embrace.

It was sickening.

Every day the Inimicus fell farther from the goddess who had blessed them in the first place.

They were more like the corrupted Dhelnir that had crawled out of her shadow at the beginning of time. And yet, the Inimicus sought to wipe out her people under the claim they were the corrupted ones.

The Inimicus guarding Marcella practically dumped her onto the other empty cot as the heretic looked up and over at them. He glanced over Marcella, taking in her hair and bridal appearance and said something that sounded like it might have been a question and she caught the word ‘Sordes.’

The Inimicus to her left nodded and started speaking. She caught the word ‘Commander’ and then something that might have been a name following it, but she couldn’t be sure of it with their sharp tongue. He then gestured to her ankle and side.

Her side… was the second vision really happening so soon? No. She couldn’t let it. She needed more time.

That vision staying in the future meant she stayed alive.

Marcella tugged at her manacles, the heavy muffled feeling still all over her, and the chains rattled slightly, but weren’t budging.

The heretic eyed her manacles as she rattled them. He said something and shook his head.

The Inimicus on her right said something else. The word ‘commander’ and the same sound following. It definitely sounded like a name.

But Marcella had bigger problems than guessing the commander’s name. Like the fact that he’d claimed no harm was going to come to her and then the first place she was taken was to one of their heretics.

No harm. What a load of Abyss-touched nonsense.

Of course, the Inimicus might even argue it was true.

They may not think of it as harm when they pulled her apart and put her back together, no matter how excruciating the process. They’d still be returning her in one piece, if they thought they had to.

Maybe this was the revenge.

If they were willing to hand her over to let their heretic at her when they thought she was valuable, how much worse was it going to be when they discovered she wasn’t?

When Marcella had said her prayers and burned incense before she’d gotten in that chariot, she shouldn’t have prayed for survival. She should have prayed for a quick death.

If only she was the type.

Instead, she’d prayed for life. She was going to regret that.

The Inimicus heretic finished whatever he was doing to the other man on the cot and started toward her. The other man shook his head and left the tent.

The second the Inimicus heretic reached for the clasp of her himation, she needed to act now before it was too late to stop the vision from taking its course.

Her foot slammed into the heretic’s stomach, and she scrambled back as far as she could. The man on her right grabbed her by the fabric on her shoulder and hauled her back while the one on her left grabbed her leg and forced it down.

The Inimicus heretic rubbed his stomach and wheezed for air as he stood back up, gestured to the two of them, and said something. She imagined he was telling them to hold her down. Their grips tightened as the heretic approached again.

She was not letting them turn her into one of their experiments.

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