Page 37 of The Prince's Mage

Why was Aimilia encouraging him? Shouldn’t she want him to give up on Marcella so he might realize he already had a girl he could be with who clearly cared about him more than Marcella did?

When she heard them heading back toward her, she laid her head on her folded arms and pretended like she’d dozed off.

But… what was the big thing she didn’t know?

No.No.She was not going down that road. She was placating Gavril and looking for her chance to grab Nikias before it was too late.

She didn’t want to know. She couldn’t handle anything else that would render her shattered pieces into dust. Ignorance was bliss.

A hand brushed her back and then there was a soft sigh that she knew was Gavril’s as she pretended to be asleep. He muttered to Aimilia, “See?—recovering—pushing her too hard as it is—Aimilia, she—” He paused. “—almost died—an hour later—have been—not right—overwhelm—not right for me to expect anything.”

“—little idiot—ignored it—acadamie—Don’t overwhelm her then.”

Marcella felt him shift her chair so he could gather her up into his arms and carry her back to her room. She meant to pretend to rouse, but once he had her curled against his chest she dozed off.

Of course, because she fell asleep before she got to her room, she didn’t have the chance to put up her silencing rune.

So when she woke up screaming, this time the door flew open and Gavril was rushing into her room. She was scratching at her wrists as she kicked at the blankets. She saw him out of the corner of her eye, catching her before she fell off the bed, sweeping her up and pulling her into his arms and back onto the bed.

She was still seeing his lifeless body land in the field of her vision while she was strapped onto the table.

She thrashed against his grip before her strength gave out and she slumped against him. He had his left hand laced through her left hand as he pinned her other arm to her waist with his arm wrapped around it.

She panted for breath, pretending there weren’t tear tracks on her cheeks as she lay against his chest. “You—You can go—I’ll put the rune up—you’ll be able to sleep.”

Gavril scoffed. “Rune? What—Of course this has still been going on. I thought it had stopped after we burnt the tables. Of course you think I’ll be able to just go back and sit on the other side of that door like you’re not over here suffering because of my failures.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will the water in her eyes to go away as she rasped, “Gavril… go.”

“No wonder you’re not recovering. You’re not getting real rest,” Gavril muttered, his grip loosening on her waist but not letting go of her left hand.

She couldn’t help the soft, frustrated noise in the back of her throat. “Doesn’t matter. Go.”

“Deliciae… I use words I know you don’t know because I am a coward. You commanded me not to hide from you. Please don’t hide from me.” She could feel his chest rising and falling against her back as his voice lowered. “Deliciae… Darling is one translation, delight is another, more literally I suppose it means luxury.”

Marcella’s breathing began to even out. Luxury…

If he wasn’t so sincere, combined with the fact that he had said it first knowing she did not know what it meant, she would think he was mocking her.

“Deliciae, darling, if I go… do the nightmares come more than once a night?”

“If I say no, will you go?”

“How do you expect me to be able to be on the other side of that door when I know you’re reliving your de—the atrocity you went through and it’s all my fault?”

“Go back to your room and figure out how my stupid little runes are going to help us find a path to peace.”

Gavril let go of her wrist and slid out from under her. As he walked back to the door connecting their rooms, he looked over his shoulder and said, “I will go, but don’t put up a rune. If you are tormented, I want to know.”

Marcella ran a hand over her face, letting her curls swallow her head and hide her face. “Fine. I won’t put up a rune.”

And she didn’t.

She didn’t have another nightmare that night.

When she fell back asleep, the feeling of leather straps started to creep in, but when Gavril’s beaten face appeared within her sight, his eyes opened. His mouth formed a word. A whisper.

Deliciae.

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