Page 18 of The Prince's Mage

The edge of the courtyard where a crowd was gathered appeared between the columns of the peristyle they were racing toward. “Stupid girl!—blind?Amo!—done out ofamofor you! What is it in your cursed language? Just—go—Amo—amat—Heamatyou, and if youamas—or any care for him or yourself, go!”

Aimilia let go of Marcella and raised her hands casting a rune, and the people blocking their path stumbled out of the way from her sharp gale of wind. Marcella got her weak legs to move, not as fast as she wished, but she ran forward.

She came to a stop at the front of the crowd. On the grass and dirt, a rune lit up the ground. Within its bounds were Gavril and Nikias. On the other side, the king and queen stood, watching with blank faces. Although the queen was gripping the king’s arm so tightly it was certain to bruise.

Nikias was on the ground, on his knees, his arms shaking as he held up a shield rune. Blood trickled down out of his mouth and one eye was swollen shut. Gavril was favoring one side, but his hands were still flying through the air, casting rune after rune.

Lightning struck Nikias’ shield again and again until it shattered. Gavril cast another rune, right below Nikias, and before Nikias could respond, Gavril flung his hands up, and the rune flew up into the air.

A platform of vitae.

She’d only ever seen someone do such a feat once before. Hypatia, obviously.

How did the Inimicus know such a technique? Had they stolen the technique and developed their own two-handed rune to replicate it? Was that possible?

Gavril’s fingers flew and the rune disappeared while Nikias’ hands were flying, cutting off the rune Nikias was forming and sending him back to the ground. There was a huge crack ripping through the air, and Marcella was snapped back into action.

Nikias screamed in agony as Gavril started to walk toward him. Marcella prayed to Asentai to bless her enough to make her run faster.

Gavril’s hands started to move. Nikias was completely incapacitated.

Marcella grabbed Gavril’s arm, crashing into him as her legs finally gave out. She said in his tongue, “Stop!”

The only thing keeping her upright was her grip on his left arm. She covered his left hand with hers, the lines on her wrist laying over the lines on his left. The metal pieces of the bands clinked. He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at Nikias on the ground, on his back, holding his broken right arm to his chest. Nikias wouldn’t be able to cast another rune. Not with both hands as the Inimicus only could.

Gavril’s hair was plastered to his skin from sweat and his chest was heaving. His hands were shaking, and the look in his eyes terrified her more than she’d ever known he could. The same look from when he’d nearly killed the silenced mage. The same look from when he’d trashed the healer’s workroom.

She whispered, “Stop.”

He spoke in her tongue, “Marcella, you should not be here. Go back. I am keeping my promise.”

She kept speaking in his, “Non.Vivet.”

Gavril would not look away from where Nikias was on the ground, watching them. He said, “You cannot ask me to let him live after what he did to you. You of all people should want me to kill him.”

She ducked under his arm and wrapped her arms around his neck to hold herself up. She held him close and said, “Gavril…”

She had a suspicion. Of whatamo, amat, amavit, meant.

Love. Aimilia believed Gavril loved her so much…

“Misericordiae.”

Mercy.

She switched back to her tongue. “Have mercy on him. Not for him. But for me.Vivet.Not life for him. Life for you. Doing this is not for me. Sparing him is for me. Do not leave me. If you do this, you will be taken from me. Stay. Keep me safe. Killing him means you cannot keep your promise. I demand you keep it. So live. Let him live so that you may live for me.”

His left arm wrapped around her waist and crushed her to him, taking on the weight her legs couldn’t anymore. His other hand came up to the back of her head, pressing it into the curve of his neck. He whispered in her tongue, “As my soldier commands me. Mercy only so that I may keep my promise.”

He brushed his lips against the top of her head before she felt him lift his head again and look past her toward Nikias on the ground. Nikias was still clutching his arm, breathing heavily out of his nose and his jaw clenched tightly as he lay on the ground in his black chiton, coated in dirt and blood. Nikias’ gaze was hazy and unfocused as Gavril spoke in their tongue, “—owe her your life—grateful—going to show it.”

But as Marcella looked at the older prince, she didn’t think he was going to be grateful she was forcing him to live against his will. She hadn’t been.

The rune on the ground beneath them faded, and before Marcella could even think of making herself let go of Gavril and start walking, his hands were under her legs, lifting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist as he braced his hands beneath them. She leaned against his front, keeping her arms wrapped around him as he started walking. The crowd of Inimicus started to part and hurry out of Gavril’s way.

One person didn’t run away. She stood at the front of the crowd. Aimilia.

But she wasn’t looking at Gavril and Marcella. She was looking at Nikias, who had turned onto his good side, still clutching his broken arm to his chest, teeth clenched, but the haze had faded. His gaze was wholly focused on Aimilia.

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