Page 96 of The Prince's Captive

Gavril’s breath audibly left him, and he blinked up at her as she caught her breath. He started to say something in his language before switching to hers with a stutter, “You—you faked?”

“You’ve been distracted.” Marcella tilted her head, her curls spilling over her shoulder.

Gavril blinked up at her. “You could tell?”

She gave him the smallest of nods as she said, “It was either that or you were giving me an opportunity.”

His lips twitched. “Well, you took advantage of it.”

“I did.” She didn’t like how pleased such a simple action of hers made him. But she let it be since him being pleased with her was much closer to trust. She figured this was as good a time as any to pry. “Is it your girl?”

Gavril’s mouth parted slightly, then his eyes narrowed at her. “Why are you asking?”

She had to navigate this carefully. Why would she be asking if she wasn’t trying to get anything out of it? Best not to let him think too long about it or his suspicion would deepen.

“Maybe I’m bored.” Marcella pushed herself up and sat back on her heels. “So? Did you have another fight with your girl?”

Gavril pushed himself up onto his elbows. “No, I haven’t. Things are… They are what they are. It is not for you to worry about. They are my troubles.”

The way he was looking at her…

Oh.

She clicked her tongue. “It’s about me.”

Gavril pushed himself up so he was sitting and now was taller than her. She shifted back to give him space, but was careful not to shoot away from him like she would have otherwise. He said, “I—It is complex. My family. They are—Well, I’m sure you can guess.”

A chill went down her spine and she couldn’t stop herself from shifting back more than she’d intended to. She whispered, “They want to put me back on a table.”

It made sense. She’d heard him and Aimilia mention the tables the other day.

“Mea—” Gavril’s hand brushed her shoulder before it jerked back. Gavril still leaned in and said, “No—No.That’s not happening. I—They want—”

“If they do not want to cut me open, why am I still alive?” Marcella asked. Gavril’s eyes were wide and his face ashen. She looked back over at the Inimicus that had been taking notes. Right, she’d forgotten in her relentless pursuit of trying to get any kind of win against him what the purpose of this was. She said, “Information. Our sparring has gotten no information for them.”

“Marcella, please, I—” Gavril started, but she just turned back to him and whatever he saw on her face had his voice dying in his throat. Had he been expecting her to explode?

Maybe she would if she wasn’t also using him now.

“I understand,” she said.

“You—You do?” Gavril whispered. “You understand why I’ve been doing this?”

She nodded. “They need to justify my existence. If they think there is more value in me on a table, then that is what they want.”

Bile rose in her throat and the phantom sensation of leather bit into her skin.

Gavril grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “I’m not letting anything happen to you. I promised. I will protect. No matter what. I am working on it.”

If she wanted his trust and her chance at freedom and a life she’d never even let herself dream of, she needed to stay off the tables.

And even if she didn’t have that, Marcella wasn’t going to make it if they put her on one again. If just that fraction of a time had shattered her before, any more would leave her dust to scatter in the wind.

She leaned into his touch ever so slightly, lowering her gaze and whispering, “What information do they seek?”

“Marcella, no.” Gavril reached up and turned her face up toward him, his left hand cradling her face. She couldn’t stop the small gasp that left her at the intensity that poured out of him. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Not to stay off the tables. I will not let them. No matter how much you curse me. No matter how deep your desire for my agony. I promised I will protect. It did not come with conditions.”

His certainty wrapped itself around her as securely as he had his cloak the night they’d been bound together.

---