Page 99 of The Prince's Captive

But his face didn’t twist in offense. He just picked up his approach again with a huge grin. He waved his hand and said, “By all means, go ahead.”

Before she could figure out if she should have gone with something rude to be believable or something sweet to try to win an inch of trust, he was in front of her. His hands skimmed across her shoulders as he looked her over. She resisted the urge to fold her arms over her chest at his inspection.

He squeezed her shoulders before drawing back, even though his fingers moved slowly, brushing over her skin with a hesitance in them. He said, “You look well.”

She figured the easiest approach would be to make him believe she was starting to warm to him because she was starting to believe he meant his promise to keep her off the tables. She shrugged and gave into her urge to fold her arms over her chest and make herself smaller. She lowered her gaze to the ground and said, “Every day I do not wake up on the table, I am well.”

“I will keep you well.” His grip tightened.

Liar. Illusionist.Liar.

She could not believe him. She could not. She would not let herself. She would keep herself well and make him suffer for all his people had done to her and hers.

She forced herself to look up and give him a tiny nod. His eyes brightened, and her stomach turned.

He started to reach for her again, but quickly turned the motion into a gesture for her to follow. She did so, sinking her fingers into her sides and ignoring how his happiness made her miserable. She would get his suffering and her freedom. She just needed him to be happy right now to get it.

She followed him back to where he had his books and scrolls set up on the ground. He went right back to his spot, but he immediately grabbed the books to his left and moved them, clearing space. He gestured to the spot and said, “Join me, please.”

“We are not sparring?” Marcella asked, but she took the seat without a fight. She was going to have to pick her battles carefully, and he had said please instead of trying to order her around.

“Not today. Yesterday was long and today I want…” Gavril paused when he looked over at her, her legs tucked to the side as she sat beside him. “Today I want no fighting. Not even sparring.”

“Then why didn’t you send me back?” Marcella asked.

Gavril shook his head with a smile. “I don’t know.”

But he looked at her like he always knew. There was always something in the way he looked at her that she couldn’t comprehend. He did know; he just wasn’t saying.

“Don’t you want to enjoy the fresh air and sunlight?” He gestured to the courtyard around them.

She supposed sitting out there was better than sitting in her cell. In her cell she couldn’t really do much to earn his trust. This at least was more productive.

She shrugged and said, “I suppose.”

He grinned again as he picked up his notebook and writing materials. That was when she noticed the books surrounding them weren’t all books written in his people’s runes. Some of them were written in hers and a few had writing in both languages.

She leaned in and peered at the one in her language closest to her and asked, “What is all this? Why are you reading in my language?”

He stared at her and spoke softly, “I… I find I am not skilled at expressing myself in your tongue. I am a man who does not like… not expressing myself accurately. Many things I want to say to you, but I lack ability.”

“So… am I here to help?” Marcella asked, leaning back from the dictionary.

“Only if you wish.” He shrugged. “You may just… be if you want.”

What better way to get his trust?

As much as she despised him getting better in her tongue, it was going to happen regardless of her assistance, so if helping him won trust, she might as well.

She picked up the dictionary, set it in her lap, and looked up at him. “I wish you to stop butchering my people’s tongue. Besides, these books will not teach you how to pronounce, and they were written by Inimicus. They are likely riddled in falsities.”

Gavril nodded, staring at her with that look in his eyes that she knew she needed, but it still had her wanting to shift in her seat with how intense it was. It was always solely focused on her. No one should ever look at her so intently. There was nothing to see.

If he kept looking at her that intensely he would see through her paper-thin illusion.

“Then by all means.”

So they started, slowly and a little haltingly at first. She’d abused him so thoroughly in her tongue that to now be helping him in it was strange.

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