Page 113 of The Prince's Mage

She could at least make sure she tore from the edge that wasn’t acting as his sleeve. But she could feel Hypatia’s eyes on her as she tried not to rush out of her seat and throw herself at Gavril. Instead she carefully knelt by his chair, and when his eyes landed on her, they were the only ones that mattered. She fumbled with the edge of his cloak when he shifted in his seat, and the hand that had shifted toward her pulled back, slipping beneath his cloak and clenching around the arm of the chair.

She stopped herself from reaching for him as well, biting the inside of her cheek as she focused on keeping her face devoid of emotion.

She tore a little strip of the trimming off, hating that she had to damage it at all. When she straightened back up, her heart stuttered at the way Hypatia was staring at her with her arms crossed, displeasure written all over her similar features. She slowly held her hand out and Marcella passed her the strip. She tied it to the raven’s leg, keeping one eye on Marcella as she did so, and Marcella’s heart beat faster.

Once she was done, Hypatia straightened up and rolled her shoulders. “Alright, that’s enough for now. While I would love to keep this going, we do have other urgent matters to handle, and we’ll be waiting for the raven’s return anyway. Lieutenant, do something with our prisoner so he’s properly contained. I’m not quite so trusting this isn’t all some kind of trap. Make sure those Inimicus cuffs aren’t going to slip off him. Rough him up a little on the way to make it more believable. Make sure he’s not going to fight back and put on a bit of a show for our people. It won’t pay them back for all the lives we’ve lost—my father particularly—but it’s a start.”

All Marcella saw in that moment were his black eye, his split lip, the bruises he hid from everyone. Her side burned. She knew what Hypatia considered rough.

“You will not hurt him!” Marcella stepped between Gavril’s chair and the lieutenant.

“Marcella—” Gavril’s warning was cut off as Hypatia moved around the table.

“Stand down, little one. He is no longer your concern.” Hypatia grabbed Marcella by the shoulder, sinking her fingers into her cloak. “You were ordered to deliver a prince to me and now that you have, you are relieved of it. I will do with him as I wish.”

Marcella wasn’t going to let herself be pulled away without a fight. She dug her feet in and grabbed at the chair even as Gavril scrambled out of it. He reached for her, but Hypatia managed to jerk her forward. Marcella tried to dislodge Hypatia’s grip, her makeshift sleeve starting to fall apart as she said, “You will not! He is not yours to abuse or make some show out of! I told you whatever that mage said isn’t true. Gavril is here to help us, and I will not let you—”

Hypatia let out a harsh, barking laugh. “You will not let me? Oh, your captivity has made you think rather highly of yourself, my little lookalike! What exactly makes you think you have any authority over me when it comes to my prisoner?”

“Marcella, don’t—”

“Because he’s—”

“He’s what? The man who took you captive? Who has kept you as his prisoner? His pet? His—”

Marcella finally succeeded in shoving Hypatia back, but as she did so Hypatia’s hand slid down her left arm and her fingers snagged in the leather band that couldn’t be seen. Hypatia’s eyes widened for a moment before narrowing at where her fingers appeared to be tangled in nothing.

“What is this? An Inimicus illusion?” Hypatia jerked on the band, and Marcella stumbled toward her. She held Marcella’s hand up, wrapping her hand around Marcella’s wrist, and Marcella could feel the band and metal pressing against her skin harder as Hypatia felt all of it. “A bracelet?”

“Hypatia—”

“And why would the Inimicus prince go to all this trouble to hide it well before you got here unless it was something to hide?” Hypatia ran her fingers over the rune etched into the metal. “What is this? This rune, it’s—”

“Because he’s my husband!”

The words fell out of her mouth right as she managed to rip it out of Hypatia’s grip and stumble backward.

Out of the corner of her eye, Konstantin’s eyes widened while High Priest Panagiotis choked on a gasp. Hypatia stilled as she narrowed her eyes at Marcella’s wrist, clutched to her chest.

Right as she did, hands came to rest on her shoulders. Gavril’s. He was always there to steady her.

She wanted to open her mouth and apologize for revealing the truth, but she couldn’t. Not in front of them. And not when it might be the only thing to protect him.

His hands trembled against her shoulders.

Maybe he was using her to steady himself.

Hypatia rolled her shoulders and straightened up, saying breathlessly, “Well then…”

Marcella knew that look. She’d never liked that look on Hypatia.

The chiefess turned to High Priest Panagiotis with a smile that made her look like a snake and said, “My little lookalike claims she’s married. Do tell me, have you or any of your priests officiated a ceremony for her and this Inimicus prince? Because as the leader of her clan, I certainly did not give my blessing to any union involving her and an Inimicus, especially the one who led the group responsible for my father’s death.”

“I assure you neither I nor any of my priests would ever join one of the faithful to a faithless Inimicus. It would be heretical,” High Priest Panagiotis said with a derisive sniff.

“I—” Marcella started, taking a step forward, but Hypatia whipped back around.

“You are not married. Not in the eyes of Asentai or mine, and well, mine are the ones that matter right now.” At Hypatia’s words, High Priest Panagiotis made a warning noise in the back of his throat that she ignored as she strode up to Marcella and grabbed her left wrist, lifting it between them again. Her fingers flew into a rune and vitae surged. Marcella yelped, trying to stop it, but she was too late. The illusion on her left wrist shattered, revealing the leather band and the black lines on her skin.

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