Page 22 of The Prince's Mage

He pulled his head out of her grip and lowered her hands, letting go of them and sitting back. He said, “I am not. They are not. But your words are meant well—I understand. But I am not here to bare to you my weakness. I am here so you eat. I am here for you.”

Marcella opened her mouth because she was not done, but before she could speak, he was shoving a bowl into her hands and giving her an order. “Eat.”

Fine. She would let it go for now.

She sank her teeth into the bread and dipped it in the broth, the plain food a balm to her stomach that still threatened to upheave at any moment.

Whether that was because she hadn’t eaten in so long or because her gut twisted every time she looked up and caught sight of his black eye—knowing it was his own mother’s hands that put it there—she wasn’t sure.

Every time she paused or slowed, bringing a question up to her tongue, Gavril just ordered her to finish eating before they spoke. She rolled her eyes at him but did so until there was no food or water left.

She turned the bowl upside down to show it was empty, raising an eyebrow at him until his lips twitched into a smile and he said, “See? Was that so hard?”

She just dropped the bowl back onto the tray and he picked it up and set it on the nightstand beside the bed before settling back into his seat. He braced one hand on the sheets, leaning on it as he looked at her, and in a voice as soft as the way he brushed his fingers over her damp hair, he asked, “Can you… Can you tell me exactly what happened while I was gone?”

Chapter9

MARCELLA

Marcella’s spine went rigid and she bumped into the headboard, but she took a deep breath.

She was safe.

Gavril was with her.

Although… she looked at his black eye… Maybe neither of them were safe.

Still, she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, focusing on her left wrist. Healed. Perfectly fine. Her half-done sleeve exposing the lines and the metal band on it.

“Not long after you left, I was brought to the training grounds. Nikias and Aimilia were there. He made me spar with Aimilia. She—she did not hold back like you did. It was rough. I felt sick all the time. I did not eat. Then one day Nikias was the one I was sparring against. He broke my wrist and then I was in the throne room. I could not focus enough to understand what he was saying, not until Aimilia appeared in the hallway. Even then my memory is hazy, but they argued and she stepped out of the way right as I passed out again. When I woke up—”

Marcella choked on the words. She ducked her head as the feeling of leather straps and wood on her bare skin and a knife cutting into her spine came rushing back.

She couldn’t stop her sobs as she dug her hands into her legs and tried to hide her shaking by curling in as tightly as possible. But then arms were around her, and she was being pulled into an embrace she was beginning to know better than her own skin. She leaned into Gavril, letting go of her knees so she could curl into him, burying her head in his shoulder.

She took great, heaving breaths as she tried to continue but it wasn’t until there was no water left to spill out from her eyes, that she was able to continue in a hoarse, stuttering voice.

“—I woke up… where I woke up. They’d taken your cloak—” She sat up, turning her face toward him, making sure he could see her desperate honesty. “I didn’t take it off. I wore it. Always. I picked it back up and tried to keep it, but they took it from me. They—they asked me about the—the rock that you took when you caught me. Then—I don’t really know what was real after that. I saw so many things. I saw you so many times until you were finally real and there. That’s all I know.”

There was a dark edge in Gavril’s controlled expression, an edge that was becoming more familiar the more she saw it. It terrified her, but she knew it wasn’t directed at her. It was because of her. But… there was a restraint this time, he was holding it back. His hand on her back was slowly tracing a pattern. It felt familiar, the one he’d traced before, a rune of some kind. She didn’t know if he was doing it for her sake or his.

He whispered, “So you do not know everything they did to you?”

She thought back. She remembered Gavril breaking glass and thick liquid pouring out of it. Him shredding and burning papers.

“They… did what they did to all of my people who ended up on those tables. Studied me. Cut me open like a rat. Took my blood. Examined my vitae. I do not want to remember more than that.”

He nodded against her head, rustling her curls with the motion. “Do… Do you remember the rock?”

There was something thick and heavy in his words. Something Marcella had the feeling she should better understand but didn’t.

Marcella blinked. “I… remember Nikias asking me about it. I… there was a point I could not tell what was real or not. I might have touched it. I don’t know.”

Gavril shifted her even closer, his grip tightening so firmly Marcella knew she wouldn’t be able to get out of it no matter how hard she tried. Not that she wanted to. While talking about this, there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

He murmured, “That is enough. I… I needed to know if Aimilia was hiding something of her involvement to make herself look better. She told the truth.”

“What did she say?” Marcella blinked up at him. “I do not understand all that happened even though it happened to me.”

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