Page 80 of The Prince's Captive

She slammed her palms into his chest, and when he didn’t so much as flinch she tried again and again to hit him and shove him away from her, but nothing worked. He was immovable. Her eyes spilled over as she screamed and grunted in frustration that nothing she did was getting him to tell the truth. Did she have to try to kill him for him to just give up and kill her?

“Stop—” Marcella’s hands stilled against him. All the fight left her. “Just…”

His hands stayed anchored on her back as she collapsed against his chest. Her arms fell to her lap as her forehead rested on his shoulder. She whispered, “Get it over with. Kill me to free me.”

His hand came up to the back of her head, sinking into her hair and pinning her head to his shoulder. He whispered into her hair, “Interdicimus mors tua.”

She didn’t even try to translate. She didn’t care.

Whatever he did, she didn’t care.

His grip tightened, sinking into her chiton and hair before loosening. “I will not. I will not. I cannot free you. I cannot kill you. You will live no matter how agonizing. I will make you.”

Marcella couldn’t stop the broken sob that fell out of her mouth.

She hated him. She’d never hated anyone the way she hated him for condemning her to life when she lowered herself to beg for death.

So if he was going to make her suffer this agony…

She swallowed and slowly lifted her head. His hands shifted, pulling her closer as she shifted back so he could look into her eyes. His green eyes were burning, but they were no match for her.

“You refuse me my death? So be it.” She sank her fingers into the collar of his chiton, and her voice was dark and guttural as she said, “From this moment on, I will pray that I will live long enough to see you as tortured and agonized as I will be under your thumb. If you will not give me mercy, then I shall live for spite. When I am put back on that table, I will spend every second cursing you to lose everything you have ever loved.”

He sucked in a sharp breath and finally let go, but she wasn’t done yet. She pushed herself to her feet and stood over him.

“For as long as you have me bound to you with these marks on my arm, I will pray that every single desire you have will be forever unattainable. If you are going to force me to live, then I am going to live for your agony.”

He stared up at her, his hair falling back slightly, giving her a clear view of his brilliant green eyes. As he stared up at her, an expression on his face a mixture of emotions she wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever felt, he whispered, “Quod me nutrit iuror me destruit.”

She stayed on her feet and prayed for an iron heart. His hands were curled slightly like they were still holding something. Like they were still holding her.

He lowered his head, tilting it to the side so she could not see. For a moment the only sound in the air was her heavy breathing. Then the softest of whispers.“Nunc scio quid sit amor, mea spes, et excrucior.”

Before she could try to figure out the words she did know, he was pushing himself to his feet. His face was cold and emotionless the way she was desperately trying to steel her heart into. He said in her tongue, “So be it. So long as you live.”

Prince Gavril was a creature she did not believe she was ever going to comprehend.

He took a step back toward the cell door. “You want me to stop? I shall. Stay here as you wish. It will all be as you have said, but one. My desire. I will have peace. Even if it means the agony of you.”

As he walked backward toward the cell door, he picked up his cloak as he went.

She stayed where she was until he was gone.

She sank to the ground again, wrapping her arms around herself in the chill of the dungeon. But… finally. He was going to stop pretending like he was on her side. Like he cared. He was going to stop lying.

If she could not have freedom or death, at least she would have truth.

Chapter25

MARCELLA

When the guards came for her first thing the next morning, Marcella was ready.

Her heart was iron. She was as void as the Abyss.

When they put her back on that table, it was going to be like it was happening to someone else. She wasn’t going to feel a thing. She wasn’t going to let herself.

The guards grabbed her by the arms and hauled her out of her cell. This time she stumbled along with them. It was just the guards. No Prince Nikias or Prince Gavril.

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