Page 125 of The Prince's Mage

Gavril made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat as he looked at Konstantin that she found quite endearing. Gavril ground out, “Konstantin of Montis, will you approve of a match between Marcella and me?”

“I will happily approve of the match, mostly because I know even if I don’t the two of you will keep pawing at each other and if you’re not promised, it will reflect poorly on me now,” Konstantin said with a smirk.

“Thank you, Konstantin,” Marcella said, giving him a pointed look. When he didn’t move to leave, she narrowed her eyes and said, “Goodbye, Konstantin.”

He rolled his eyes but did finally move away. He said, “Don’t get any ideas. I’m not going to be far.”

The second he was out of sight, Marcella sighed and turned back to Gavril, whose disgruntled expression was fading now that she was looking at him.

He said, “First of all, I don’t like him. I don’t like this scheme of his. He didn’t just tie you to himself as an adopted family member. He has now tied you even closer to Hypatia as well. I’m certain the demon will find a way to take advantage of it.”

“She can try, but please, trust me. This was the best path. I tied myself to him only so that I can permanently tie myself to you. Please, continue your proposal,” Marcella whispered, nodding toward the lilies.

Gavril’s grip on them tightened and he said, “That is another reason I am not pleased with this. Now this too has just become another tool to use to try to protect each other from our people and their determination to have our blood. This—” His voice broke and he shook his head. Then he whispered, “I wanted to offer these to you when all this was over. When I had finally succeeded in giving you peace. When there was nothing else at stake. That way I could know if you accepted, it was because you loved me and wanted to truly be married. Now it is always going to be sullied by the fact that you are doing this to protect me and yourself from Hypatia.”

Foolish man.

Marcella took his face into her hands and forced him to look at her. She said, “It is not. Do you think I would have gone to all this trouble if I did not love you? Can you not see the only reason I am doing this is because I do want to truly be married to you? Whether it is before we have peace or not, I don’t care. I just want you.” She felt his breath hitch, but she continued on, “As for protecting you? I know no matter what happens tomorrow when Nikias arrives, he will ensure you are protected. This engagement will not change that. And myself? If I simply wanted protection from Hypatia’s control, I have it as an adopted member of Montis. This engagement does not provide me any added protection. All it does is make me promised to the only man I want to be promised to. The man who kept these lilies for months despite all the hatred and falsities that came from me, all in the hopes of being able to offer them to me.”

Gavril gave her a soft smile and held out the set of lilies. “I am a creature prone to hope. It is in my very nature. So… Marcella of Desero—Marcella of Montis, my beautiful hope, will you marry me again?”

“Yes. Always,” Marcella breathed out, clasping her hands around his wrists. “Put them on me.”

Gavril’s smile lit up the area around them brighter than any light rune as he moved forward and started with her hair, gently fixing her hair with them, sliding them into place at each temple. She didn’t know how he remembered that was the proper placement, but the fact that he had remembered had tears spilling out of her eyes.

She did not know what she had done to be so blessed. The way Gavril loved—she could not fathom what she had done to deserve to be so cared for. She never wanted to let it go. She wished her love was even a fraction of his so she could make him feel as loved as he made her.

He started to reach for her cloak, and he paused. Then he whispered, “Would you also do me the honor of wearing mine again?”

“Always. I will wear it whenever you want me to,” Marcella said, immediately reaching up and shedding the plain one she’d been wearing the last few days to hide her scars. Gavril ducked his head and moved to replace the clasps of her chiton. After the first day, Marcella had gotten a spare chiton, one with sleeves so if the illusions faded before she noticed, her scars would stay hidden.

She knew she had to be flushed bright red as the tips of his fingers brushed her shoulder while he held the fabric up so it didn’t fall as he replaced the old clasp with the gold lily. As soon as the fabric was held back in place, he moved to do the other one, and she reached up and brushed her fingers over the clasp on her right shoulder.

Once he finished, he looked up and smiled when his eyes landed back on the flowers in her hair. “Pulchra…much more beautiful than my people’s tradition.”

Marcella held up her left wrist and brushed her thumb over his name etched onto the bracelet. “I don’t know. I think it rather beautiful that a little piece of your vitae is now part of me and a little piece of mine is now part of you. I like that your name is on my wrist. I wouldn’t want anyone else’s.”

Gavril laced his fingers through hers and pulled her wrist toward him, pressing a kiss to her pulse. He whispered, “Good. I like my name on your wrist too. I feared that you would ask me to remove it.”

“Never,” Marcella whispered.

“Good, because I also like my name over your heart,” Gavril said, reaching up and unclasping his cloak. “Besides, the implication now might benefit us.”

Marcella shifted closer as he wrapped it around her, and said, “Yes, I remember you saying that. But I don’t fully understand. What is the implication and why would it have been a problem for me to wear it when we arrived?”

Gavril kept his gaze on his hands, but she could see his cheeks and neck turn red.

“I was… When I was worried about keeping our marriage a secret—It is completely appropriate for you to wear it as my wife. I was worried someone in the camp might know of what it means in my culture, and as I did not want anyone to know we were married, you wearing it would have a different meaning. It would… You’re only supposed to wear the cloak of someone you are either promised to or married to, and it’s considered a little… risqué by some even to just wear it of someone you are promised to.”

Oh. Those implications.

That made a lot of sense. It also explained why they called her she-wolf. They probably would have anyway, but riding in wearing his cloak—while a sign she was under his protection, it also implied more—hadn’t likely helped even with the announcement they were married.

And it might benefit them now since Hypatia was pushing for an annulment based on Marcella’s account of just how gentlemanly Gavril had been.

Marcella was certain her face was as red as the cloak.

Gavril looked up, the clasp with his name secure but his fingers still lingering over her heart. “Please, do not take offense. I—I thought the protection outweighed the implications.”

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