Page 81 of The Prince's Captive

They were likely both done with her.

She was going to be in their heretic’s hands now.

But instead of turning right like they had last time they’d hauled her out of the dungeons, they turned left.

Marcella blinked and looked over her shoulder at the hallway leading to the labs. Were there… more this way?

Or maybe… she didn’t dare hope, but still… maybe overnight Gavril had found a sliver of mercy in him and they were going to kill her.

But when she was walked out into a courtyard, surrounded by a peristyle, first she was blinded by the sunlight after having been in the dungeons for so long. When her vision cleared, she looked around to see it didn’t look like an execution.

It looked like… training grounds.

Prince Gavril stood with his back to her, speaking to the few other people that were there. She assumed Inimicus mages since they didn’t appear to be Solitus servants. A few looked like more guards but one or two didn’t. They looked… studious. Intelligent.

But the style of their clothes was slightly different from the Inimicus heretics.

When the guards brought her to a stop at the edge of the courtyard, in the shadows of the peristyle, she saw Prince Gavril stiffen slightly, but he didn’t turn around. He kept speaking to the other Inimicus, and Marcella was too far away to make anything out.

And if it didn’t involve them killing her or putting her on their torture table, she didn’t care.

The guards hadn’t moved an inch, but Gavril turned to face them directly. His expression was as cold and neutral as it had been the night before.

Good. This was what she’d wanted.

He gestured for them to bring her over, his eyes not even landing directly on her before he turned back to the Inimicus beside him and said something else. As the guards hauled her further into the courtyard to where rectangles were marked out for sparring—she assumed— Gavril also left the Inimicus and met them in the middle. He waved his hand, and the guards dropped her arms.

Marcella stumbled at the unexpected freedom and looked at them before looking at Gavril, who stood on the other end of the rectangular marks in the dirt. He waved his hand again and the guards stepped back, not completely abandoning them, but standing off to the side of the ring.

The other Inimicus also gathered around.

Marcella’s shoulders tensed and she readied herself to move if need be. If this was another strange ritual—

“Soldier.”

Her head whipped around at the sound of Gavril’s voice, unfamiliar to her at how cold it was even though he spoke in her tongue.

Even though he was speaking to her.

“Fight.” His expression was as cold as the iron heart she’d prayed for as he put his fists up.

“What?” Marcella blinked at him.

“Ears not work? Are you not soldier?” Gavril adjusted his stance, narrowing his eyes. “Prove it. Fight.”

She supposed she should be grateful all the pretense was gone and he was finally showing her just what he thought of her. But she still didn’t understand why he wanted her to fight.

She held up the vitae-limiting cuffs on her wrists and said, “While I have these on and you don’t?”

His lips twitched for a moment before his expression returned to stone. “I’m not going to need to cast to win. Besides, you almost killed a man while you were cuffed. Fight.”

“Why?”

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

She looked over at the guards and the Inimicus surrounding her before looking back at him. “But this is clearly something you want me to do. Why?”

“I find the girl who almost killed one of my men to be far more interesting than one who sits in a cell and cries.”

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