Page 88 of The Prince's Captive

She had firsthand experience of that.

Marcella liked to just use a vitae whip or bolt.

But that could also be because of her lower vitae reserve in general. She didn’t really have the power to do more complex runes one after another.

Hypatia loved creating vitae platforms, making her movements more dynamic and aerial, but that required more vitae than Marcella could afford to waste on a rune and skill Marcella had never achieved even though she understood the theory.

She shifted in her seat, wrapping an arm around her side. If she let herself sit in the silence of her cell too long, she would still feel the phantom sting of the vitae whip that had struck her. Even if her wrists were free of the cuffs, she wasn’t certain she’d be able to make herself do a whip again.

Instead she focused on learning her enemy.

Gavril’s style of moving and blocking while using runes was similar to when he wasn’t. He was light on his feet, particularly his left foot. He liked to plant his right foot when he did something and kept the left ready to move. He also didn’t guard his right side as tightly as he did his left. His rune shields usually covered it, but when he was dodging it was clear.

She could use that.

Aimilia was far more aggressive than Gavril with her runes. She only shielded when she had to, preferring to throw rune after rune at Gavril and not giving him the chance to respond in kind most of the time.

It was ironic. The way the Inimicus considered her people a corruption to cleanse when they could only cast one rune at a time because they had to use both hands. They could set runes into place in order to free their hands to cast another, like their light runes, but that made a rune even more complex and draining in terms of vitae, also hard to do in a fight. It also meant the rune was limited by the amount of vitae the mage could put into it for it to use. Once the vitae was gone, the rune faded.

At least, when Gavril tried, Aimilia easily stopped him with a rune of her own, cutting his off mid-formation.

Aimilia did take advantage of Gavril’s unprotected side. A rune sent him stepping backward so he tripped on a root she’d summoned with vitae behind him and he fell to the ground. Aimilia pounced immediately. The second Gavril was on his back, she was on top of him, pinning him down with her weight and her hands half-forming a rune that hovered in the tiny space between them. Her face hovered barely an inch away from his.

Aimilia was grinning down at him while he huffed for breath. His mouth moved, whatever he said lost to Marcella. Aimilia just kept pinning him down, clearly not ready to release him. He narrowed his eyes at her and seemed to repeat himself.

She banished the rune she had started casting, and her hands fell to his chest. She tilted her head, the hair that had started falling out of her braid brushing her face and his.

At whatever she said, Gavril turned his head to the side, and his eyes landed on Marcella. Her grip on the bench tightened. She imagined Aimilia was likely saying something about how Gavril was wasting his time sparring with Marcella since she couldn’t give him a challenge like Aimilia had. At least that was the only way Marcella could think to take the strange look Gavril was giving her while Aimilia was pretty much sitting on him. Aimilia was saying something, whispering in his ear it looked like, as her hands started to move across his chest in a way that was far too familiar and intimate for the very public setting they were in.

Gavril jolted, and in an instant, Aimilia was skidding across the dirt and Gavril was shooting to his feet, brushing his chiton off as he stood and glared down at her. He snapped at her, loud enough that Marcella could catch a little bit of it. “Tell my brother—don’t care what—up to—some scheme to—himself—won’t work. If—thinks of puttingmea uxorem—tables again—him and our father—take that—if I must—tell him this scheme—sending you here—isn’t going to work—seeing my plan—mea uxorem—out of your mouth—forced by honor—you too.”

Aimilia scrambled to her feet, her face flushed and turning as red as her hair. “—she’s just—for you—study—why are you—defensive about the fact she will never—What are you going to do when this—with alupayou can’t—despises you?—think she—worse is it going to be—kind of table?—going to live the rest of your life—your honor—worth all of this?” Aimilia’s hands fell to her sides, and the fury in her reddened face started to fade as she looked at him with a tenderness Marcella was surprised she possessed. “It’s going to destroy you, Gavril. She’s going to destroy you—save you—lifetime of agony.”

Gavril shook his head and looked at Aimilia with—oh, something like pity. Marcella had thought he’d looked at her with pity while on the road, but what she’d thought was pity was something else.Thiswas pity.

“I will take a lifetime of agony—stop the bloodshed—take her—realizes the truth—here to give them—If destroying me—ensure she lives—acceptable to me—I want—not about honor—outcome of the options—all agony—happiness for others—agony of her—far—agony without—sorry—my brother can’t understand that.”

Aimilia shook her head and then looked right at Marcella.

Marcella had gone perfectly still and was pretending like she wasn’t even there as she was trying and failing to translate enough of what they were saying to understand it.

She knew it was about her.

“How? How can you—only known her—barely speak her language—speak ours—” Aimilia’s voice was breaking and far softer as she said, “How can you—known me for years—friends for years—She’s no one to you. To anyone.”

Was this about Gavril’s fixation with sparring with Marcella? Was she jealous? There was nothing to be jealous of. She was right. Marcella was no one to Gavril. He’d proven that with how he’d been finally treating her like a prisoner.

Marcella was no one to anyone.

Gavril just shrugged. “I don’t know—think I wish I didn’t?—so much easier—do this if I didn’t.”

Aimilia’s eyes were watery and her jaw clenched before she started back toward the peristyle. “She’s going—break you before—break her—that day comes… I wish—won’t be there—to put you—together—never been able—not to want you—wish you—same for me.”

Then Aimilia was gone.

Gavril ran a hand through his hair once more, watching her go. Why wasn’t he going after her?

Instead he turned back to Marcella, and he started toward her slowly. As he approached, his tired, drawn look faded when he spotted the half-finished bowl and cup sitting beside her. He snapped in her tongue, “Soldier. You were ordered. Eat.”

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