Page 33 of The Prince's Mage

She didn’t entirely understand why Nikias would sacrifice the tables to let Gavril keep his magic, given what would happen if Gavril overtly refused to continue studying Marcella. But she was not going to question this blessing any further.

She turned back to the tables and Gavril slid behind her again while she lifted her hands. They were shaking; her vision was blurring. She cast her first rune, a simple one. A bolt of pure vitae sliced through the wood, severing the four tables into multiple pieces. She sent another one after it, cutting them up further. She increased her casting speed, rune after rune of pure vitae she sent into the tables, rendering them into smaller and smaller pieces each time. Burning and scorching the wood. The leather straps clattered to the ground as the legs turned over and the tops were in fragments.

Her throat was raw.

She’d been screaming the whole time.

Her legs shook and she couldn’t quite get her hand up again to reduce the rubble down further. She started to pitch forward, but an arm slipped around her waist and pulled her back and she fell into Gavril’s chest. She was sweating and panting, and she let out another frustrated scream as she couldn’t keep going.

They weren’t anywhere close to the dust she wanted to render them into.

But she was too shattered to finish destroying them. They’d gotten to destroy her first.

As she used him to remain upright, he brought both of his hands up and he murmured, “I will finish it. You already brought them down. They cannot keep you anymore. I will turn them to ash.”

She watched through her watery eyes as he finished his rune, keeping her half cradled in his arm as he did so. A fire sparked and the wood started to catch. As the fire started to spread, he lowered his hands to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her up against his chest as her sobs slowed and she watched the tables haunting her go up in flames.

She shuddered, and then she was being picked up. Gavril just held her against himself as she watched the flames slowly eat away at the wood. He murmured, “You are safe. I promise. It is over. It is done.”

She hated it. How much she wanted to believe him.

But… he’d said in the palace.

She couldn’t even be angry at him. He had the best of intentions, but he was Inimicus. Just because the tables were no longer in the palace didn’t mean they didn’t exist elsewhere and that she wouldn’t end up on one as long as she stayed trapped in Areator.

But she could not stand, so she just leaned against him and watched the fire.

Behind it, Nikias moved around the fire, heading toward them. He locked eyes with Gavril, who just held her tighter, and shook his head. Nikias paused, nodded, and then turned back to the palace.

That was when she saw it. She’d missed it at first because he always wore his sleeves tied down to the wrist—even the white chiton—but in the gaps and beneath the cloak she could see it on his good arm. Lines like there were on Gavril’s, only Gavril’s always hid underneath an illusion.

Aimilia came running out of the doors right as Nikias reached the steps. Nikias startled as she flew right by him, her commander’s cloak whipping through the air until she came to a screeching halt at the sight of the burning tables. Nikias hurried after her, catching her arm with his good one.

She immediately whipped around to him, and Marcella couldn’t make out what they were saying, but Aimilia gestured to the mess and then was throwing his arm off her only to grab it again. She started to pull at the ties, exposing the lines, but he ripped his arm back. He winced as he used his bad arm to re-tie it, and Aimilia was throwing her hands up and turning around.

Her eyes landed on Marcella and Gavril and she took off toward them. Gavril made a noise in the back of his throat.

Wait, was Gavril upset with Aimilia now?

As she ran up to them, she spoke in the Inimicus language, “Gavril! Please—talk—”

Marcella turned her head to look up at Gavril as he huffed and rolled his eyes. He said in their language, “I’ve been busy—mea uxorem—”

She gestured behind her toward Nikias, who was staring at them, shifting his weight but not coming any closer. “—that busy if you—your brother!”

“Are you asking—spill everything to Nikias?”

What?

“Give me—explain—know I would never—brother.” Aimilia’s eyes then landed on Marcella. Her eyes brightened. “Let me fix—Let me help—”

Gavril adjusted and tightened his grip on Marcella. He shook his head. “—later—need to get her back—rest. But—tomorrow—nice—we’ll see.”

Aimilia brightened further, shifting back with a decisive nod. “Tomorrow—trust me—”

She then spun on her heel and hurried back toward the palace. Marcella shifted upward, peering over Gavril’s shoulder to watch as Aimilia breezed right past Nikias.

The second she passed him and started up the stairs he was moving after her. She picked up speed. But Marcella hadn’t forgotten what she’d seen on Nikias’ arm.

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