Page 21 of The Prince's Mage

“What could you possibly have to hide from me? You have seen me in every weak, pathetic, most helpless position and in the absolute depths of my humiliation and horror. Gavril—” But before she could continue, he looked up at her and cut her off just by the desperation in his eyes.

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“My name—my whole name. Say it again.”

It wasn’t a command. It was a plea.

Still, she was a soldier, so she obeyed.

“Gavril.” She didn’t know why he wanted to hear her say it. The short syllables came out mangled and jagged in her accent compared to the way his people said it with their sharp, smooth lilts. But he just leaned in closer, the tray the only thing that seemed to be stopping him from being on top of her, but still he was so close. And yet she whispered his name again, “Gavril.”

His eyes closed and his forehead brushed hers. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the slight breeze of his soft breaths on her cheek. She didn’t dare move. She didn’t think she could move even if she wanted to.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

He shook his head against hers before reaching up and brushing her still soaked curls back behind her ear. He pulled back slightly and with a quick gesture from his hands, the invisible runes holding the illusion over his eye vanished.

Marcella couldn’t stop the choking gasp that left her.

Gavril lowered his head and turned away, hiding his right eye from her, wincing at the noise she made. His shoulders hunched over deeper as he seemed to try to make himself smaller. Marcella knew the gesture. She’d done the same when trying to hide her fear and shame.

She reached forward, taking his face in her hands and turning it back toward her. She brushed her thumb under his swollen black eye as she stared into his eyes and demanded, “Who did this?”

“It does not matter—”

“Nikias?After you spared him at my request? I’ll kill him. I—”

Gavril reached and wrapped his hands around her wrists, but he didn’t push her away, just held her hands tighter against his face. He said, “No. Not Nikias.”

Then…

“Your father?”

He whispered, “Not this time.”

Those were the only two she could think of. Then again, she didn’t know many Inimicus, but she felt confident it wasn’t Aimilia.

But then he continued, squeezing her wrist as his voice broke, “This time it was my mother. Nikias is her favorite; she wanted to repay me for breaking his arm.”

Marcella’s mind froze at his words.

It had been shocking enough to hear from Aimilia that his own father held no regard for his own son, that he would kill him without hesitation if he killed Nikias, but this was another. His own mother laid hands on him like this for going after Nikias?

Because of her. He’d only gone after Nikias because of her.

Then it hit her what exactly he’d said.

This time.

She whispered, “How many? How many of these injuries have you hidden from me?”

“From you? I… A dozen? I don’t keep track. Over the course of my life? I would not even know how to begin to count. It’s… this is how things have always been. Nikias was not spared when we were younger, but he is the heir. He figured it out. How to be the right son. He was top of his class. Always said the right thing—It is impossible to live up to him in their eyes.” His knee bumped into the tray again as he tried to shift closer but was prevented from doing so unless he wanted to upend it. “You see now. I… I can’t let anyone see. You—Now you know how weak I am. Why I have failed so utterly to protect you. I cannot even protect myself.”

She’d never heard anything more insane in her life. And she knew Hypatia.

“These marks are not yours to be ashamed of. They are the shame of your parents, who are so weak and pathetic and stupid their only option is to beat you into submission,” Marcella spat, sliding her hands further, curling her fingers to cradle the back of his head. “You—You are better. And that terrifies them. You terrify them. So they control you through violence and threats.”

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