Page 64 of The Prince's Captive

“Identity.”

When she didn’t answer, another line of vitae connected with her right arm, but thisburned. She turned her cry of pain into a deep grunt and breathed out through her nose.

“Soldier. Who are you?”

“No one.”

The vitae whip connected to her arm again.

“Who are you?”

The words fell out in a strained cry before she could stop them.

“Marcella of Desero.”

Prince Nikias murmured something, but her voice still had his grip on his arms tightening.

“Soldier. Relation to Hypatia of Desero?”

“If I talk… Do I get off this table?” Marcella tilted her head, trying to find Prince Nikias.

The man leaned in and seemed to repeat her question. Prince Nikias looked her over. He said something back to the man. “—tell her—”

“Done with questions, and you cooperate, yes. Deal made with Prince Gavril.”

Gavril?

If anything, that made her want to cooperate less.

He’dpromised.He’d promised that the ritual he put her through, binding her to him, would protect her from this fate.

He said deal, she doubted it. Gavril must have told them how she had reacted to their heretic and how terrified she was of the table. All they had to do was put her on one and she’d fold like silk.

He was right.

If she ever saw him again—

“Distant cousins. So distant I am nothing. I just happened to be the one who looks most like her.”

The older man translated. Prince Nikias had him ask another question.

“Dressed as bride decoy. Have scar. Why? Know of the ambush?”

No. She could be stronger than this. She had to at least try to mislead them and protect some of Desero’s secrets. Hypatia had told her she wouldn’t last long if she didn’t toughen up, and she owed it to her people to hold out as long as she could.

“We… suspected you might attack. Unsure when or where. Chief decided to keep to the original route because it was still the fastest and have me in Hypatia’s place to protect her.”

Another exchange.

The heretic said something, and then her side was burning and she was unable to stop her scream at the pain.

“Tell truth. Know how?”

How did they know if she was lying?

“I don’t know. I’m no one. All I know are my orders.”

The heretic said the same thing again, and the whip burned her calf and she gritted her teeth, trying to bury the cry in her throat but only muffling it. Through watery eyes, she could see the lines connected to her pulsing faster as her heart did.

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