Page 140 of The Prince's Mage

Good.

“I will speak with my son!” His face was turning a dark, ruddy red, contrasting with the stark, pale white the rest of him was from his weakened state. “And I will not listen to such nonsense from this worthless, weak boy about having peace with a people whose corruption is going to kill us all. This will not stand.”

“Yes, it will.” Gavril stood his ground. He could do this. He had to do this. “I have proven that corruption theory is nonsense. The treaty has been signed. The conditions have been met. And there is nothing you can do about it.”

If ever there was a time to finally stand his ground and not bend or compromise in any way, it was now.

Gavril could not let himself be moved.

“That isenoughof your insolence, boy.”

Gavril always recognized the signs of the hit coming his way.

Today was the first day he put that knowledge to use instead of just accepting the blow, reasoning it was easier that way. It was easier.

But it wasn’t right.

His left hand went up to block the blow while his right fingers flew to cast singlehandedly.

It wasn’t one he’d practiced before, but he knew it well. It was a favorite of Marcella’s. The blinding light filled the air, and Gavril felt the blow ricochet off his left arm, lacking the force that usually accompanied it. Whether that was because of the light or because of poison, Gavril didn’t know, and didn’t care.

When the light cleared, he saw his father on the ground, wheezing for air. Konstantin lowered his arm and opened his eyes.

Gavril could only gape at the fact that for once he’d done something to stop it.

His father got an arm beneath him and directed a look toward Gavril that he’d never seen before, despite his mere existence always eliciting fury any time he was near his father.

“You have tried my patience for the last time, you pathetic, ungrateful, worthless creature. You willneverset foot in Areator again. I may not be able to bind your magic anymore, butthisI can do. The second the papers are drawn up you will no longer be a prince or a commander or anything but a nameless vagabond stuck with the filthy she-wolf you should have killed.”

Huh.

He was being disinherited.

That would have been the consequence if only he’d stood up for himself sooner?

That wasn’t a punishment. That was a miracle.

Gavril could feel the eyes of the clan mages—who probably didn’t fully understand the exchange happening in a foreign tongue—as well as the other commanders and the entourage behind his father on him.

He laughed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Konstantin and Aimilia startle. The crowd started whispering, and Gavril couldn’t help himself. He just laughed harder.

For years… All his life… It could have just been that easy.

He could have escaped so easily.

Like he cared about being a prince. Or a commander. Or even a Runai if his father could still bind his magic.

Better to be a nameless vagabond with the woman he loved than to spend another day hiding his bruises behind illusions.

He doubled over. He couldn’t stop laughing. Really, he couldn’t breathe anymore. His vision was starting to blur and fade, but his hysterical relief wouldn’t allow him to do anything else.

“You mock me?” A hand grabbed his shoulder, but Gavril easily batted it away and stepped back, gasping for breath as he saw his father had gotten to his feet.

“Why not?” Gavril laughed. “Why should I not mock a man who is so arrogant he will tear up a peace treaty that has just saved tens of thousands of lives from being killed under a false pretense simply because his least favorite son was involved in bringing it about?”

“You—”

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