Page 147 of The Prince's Mage

Gavril shook his head. “Well, I know what you had with Faustina was… I am sorry. I’m sorry you feel like you have to do this. But I do hope you can at least be happy. I wish you luck finding someone good for you.”

Aimilia twisted in her saddle and called out over her shoulder, “Gavril, how much longer do you give him before he topples right off his saddle?”

Nikias rolled his eyes. “Commander, if you keep turning in your saddle like that, you’re going to be the one to fall, not me.”

Finding someone wasn’t Nikias’ problem.

* * *

By the time they arrived at the temple, Nikias’ aches had doubled, and his vision went black for a few moments after he dismounted. He was thankfully mostly ignored as the Solitus priests who ran the temple came out to greet the party.

According to their traditions, Gavril wasn’t allowed to see Marcella until the ceremony the following day.

As they ate, Nikias was only half-paying attention to Gavril and Aimilia’s conversation due to how the journey had only aggravated his lingering pains. He’d tried to listen. He wanted to, but his chest was burning. He thankfully hadn’t seen the Desero demon. He knew she was somewhere on the temple grounds, but her people’s quarters were separate from theirs.

Gavril muttered to Aimilia that he didn’t believe there was any such tradition not allowing him to see Marcella the night before and that he was convinced it was a lie from Marcella’s adopted brother in order to aggravate him.

Nikias was too focused on not fainting.

At least not in front of Aimilia.

He would not let her have the satisfaction of being right.

That night the second a little Solitus acolyte showed him to a room, he collapsed on his bed, wheezing as he struggled to breathe. He clutched at his chiton, over his heart where his burn still lingered.

If he believed in such superstitious nonsense like curses, he would have cursed the Desero demon every time he felt the burn.

But since he was not as naïve as his younger brother as to believe that a goddess would care about any of his desires, he just lay there, gritting his teeth and hoping tomorrow would be a little easier.

He clutched his cloak.

Aimilia had returned it herself. It hadn’t been a dream.

Tomorrow would be better.

* * *

Nikias was still sore when he woke up the next morning, but he forced himself to get up and get dressed anyway. There was only so much time before the ceremony, which meant there was only so much time for him to catch Aimilia alone.

He supposed it might be smarter to wait until after the ceremony, but now that he knew she had returned his cloak in person, he needed to talk to her and be certain.

By the time he reached her door in the wing he and the rest of his people were staying in, his throat was tight and he was struggling to breathe. Although whether it was because he was still physically weak or because of the impending conversation, he wasn’t sure.

He knocked and all the shuffling on the other side of the door ceased. He bit his tongue, his other hand twitching in the folds of his cloak, trying to use the fabric to steady himself.

He heard footsteps, and then a hand on the doorknob. He took a deep breath.

“Who is it?” Aimilia called out, an edge to her voice. “Marcella, if you think I’m going to help you break your people’s traditions and sneak in to see—”

“It’s not her.”

“N—Nikias?” Her voice came out sharper, breathy. The knob rattled but didn’t open, like she’d pulled her hand away.

“Can I come in?” If he could find a way to have this conversation while sitting, that would be ideal. Not worrying about his weakened state and proving Aimilia right and making a fool of himself in front of her would be better.

“I—uh—I’m still getting ready—” Aimilia stammered, the volume of her voice ebbing and increasing every other word. “You know me—I take forever to prepare for anything important, and Gavril and Marcella’s second wedding—well, that’s pretty important, so I’m going to be busy up until—”

“Commander… You can’t avoid me forever.” At his words, the hurried movement on the other side of the door ceased. There was a moment of silence.

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