Page 106 of The Prince's Mage

The second he finished, hiding the scars on her neck, she could see the toll all those illusions and setting them took on him. He was pale and wan, the bags under his eyes had deepened and sweat was dripping down his brow. He pulled his hands away and pushed himself to his feet, muttering something about rest.

Marcella let him go.

She just wrapped her right hand around her left wrist, clutching it so tightly she knew when she woke up the leather and metal would leave an impression in her skin. That was the point. If she couldn’t see it, then she’d make sure she could feel it.

She bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood, but at least the sob in her throat stayed down until she fell asleep.

Marcella’s nightmares had never really left; she’d just gotten better at not waking up screaming the forest down. But this time it was a little different from her normal nightmares. It was one she hadn’t had since she’d last been on the road.

It wasn’t so much of a nightmare as it was a memory.

What little memory she had of Hypatia giving her the matching scar. Of her own shameful begging and crying during it.

As chiefess there was no one left to rein Hypatia in.

Marcella didn’t expect her failures to go unnoticed even with Gavril as a prize. No… Worse. Marcella expected Gavril would pay for her failures this time.

Her nightmare started with her, but it shifted to Gavril. And no matter how much she screamed and begged, clutching at the sleeve of a woman who looked exactly like her, nothing she did stopped Hypatia from making Gavril scream in agony.

She jolted awake at the featherlight touch, a stark contrast to the burning pain in the nightmare. The second she opened her eyes in the darkness all she saw was green and blond and the hand on her shoulder was one she’d memorized the feeling of. But she couldn’t speak as all that came out were sobs.

Then a miracle happened.

Gavril pulled her up into his arms and crushed her to him exactly the way he had before he’d learned just how false she was. She immediately clung to him, burying her head in his shoulder. She wasn’t entirely certain this wasn’t just a dream sent to her as a reprieve from her nightmares. She didn’t care.

One hand sank into the cloak around her shoulders and the other clutched her waist as she curled her hands into his commander’s cloak at his shoulder blades. His warmth was too real to be a dream. She was certain of it.

He whispered, “What have you to fear now? Tomorrow you will be returned to your people. Is that not what you’ve always wanted?”

She ripped her head back so she could gape at him, forcing her sobs to steady so she could bite out, “I have everything to fear because it is already coming true! I fear losing you, and I have! I do not want my people if I cannot have you.”

His jaw clenched and his grip tightened, but he didn’t shove her away. Not that he would have much success with how tightly she was holding onto him as well. “You do not have to lie to me. If it is your people you fear—I understand why with what they have done to you, used you, abused you, and thrown you to the side and left you for dead—but you will return their hero and have their respect as Hypatia promised.”

He was infuriating.

“You think I fear my people for that? I do not care. You have used me, your people have abused me, your brother is the reason my heart stopped, and yet I still love you.” She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking as she sputtered around her sobs. “I am terrified of Hypatia taking my failures out on you. I am terrified that I have lost you. Please, what can I do? How can I prove to you that you can trust me?”

Gavril closed his eyes and sighed. Her own breath caught in her throat when his forehead brushed hers. He whispered, “You think I would be here if I did not trust you?”

Marcella tried to steady her ragged breathing as her own forehead brushed against his. “I do not know. You don’t really need me here. You can walk yourself in there and do all the talking.”

“That is one view. But even as furious as I am with you, even if I never once truly knew you, I would not leave you to be executed.” His own breath came out ragged, and his exhaustion from all the illusions he’d cast on her before was evident. “But I do need you. These are your people. The one leading them is your mirror image. I am quite certain if I tried to do this without you, it would only end in more blood. I trust you with my life.”

He pulled his forehead back and opened his eyes, and she could see the fractures he’d been hiding under his illusion of brusque anger.

“I cannot trust you with my heart.”

He started to pull his hands back, but that would not do.

“Because I lied? Out of fear of losing you?” She tightened her grip and jerked him closer. “Because I am a weak, pathetic, foolish girl who was desperate to hold onto you for as long as I could until the truth finally came to light? You’re the worst kind of hypocrite then. Or have you forgotten, you have lied to me for far longer, and I have not once since I found out held it against you, my husband.”

He could hide under his illusions all he wanted, but she felt his heart skip when she said ‘my husband.’

“That is not—I—” Gavril shook his head. “That is exactly—Please, I cannot take another false hope. We will—Not even maliciously. I believe. I always believe you. But you just proved my point. You can say you forgive me and say you can live with the horrors I have caused you because I could not let you go, but until you are back with your people, how can you be certain you will still choose me?”

“Gavril—”

But she didn’t get past his name before he was making a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and successfully pulled himself out of her grip and stumbled to his feet. “Do not make any promises to me. I will not hold you to anything. I cannot handle it. Tomorrow, we will go before your lookalike and tell no one we are married by my people’s law. Your marks and bands will be hidden under the illusion and mine under my cloaks and sleeve until this is all over and we can deal with it.”

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