Page 55 of The Prince's Mage

Gavril shook his head and sighed. “I will—prove—need few days—opportunity—force him.”

Aimilia rolled her eyes and scoffed as she started for the door, but she did pause by Gavril, and Marcella finally looked up from where she’d been resting her head on her arms on the table. Aimilia patted him on the shoulder and glanced at Marcella and said, “—mess this up—not—anyone’s second choice—tell her the truth.”

Gavril sighed and just waved her on. Aimilia rolled her eyes as she headed out the door. Gavril finished gathering up his things before coming over to Marcella’s side as she blinked herself awake from her nap. His hand was on her shoulder, his thumb brushing across the skin the fabric of her peplos didn’t cover. His other hand was in his pocket, fingers seeming to run over or fiddle with whatever was in them. He asked in her tongue, “Hungry?”

“Some,” she whispered.

She’d had hours to think it over, but just because she was certain of what she needed to say didn’t mean she was looking forward to it.

“Then we shall eat, but first, we get you to your room,” Gavril said, taking his hand out of his pocket, nothing in it, and gently pulling on her arm until she rose to her feet, slow and sluggish from sleep.

She was thankful her nap had been light enough not to leave her waking up screaming from a nightmare. Unfortunately, that also meant she was still tired enough that she didn’t stop Gavril from wrapping his arm around her waist and letting her lean on him as she walked.

When they got back to her room, the golden sunset painting it all in various shades of yellow and orange, he let go when she sat on the bed and murmured that he would be back shortly with food.

While he was gone, her exhaustion started to fall away as her heart rate increased while she thought about the impending conversation. Maybe it would be kinder if she threw herself out of the window. War would still come and thousands would die, but at least she wouldn’t have to do this.

But before she could muster up the strength to get up to at least look at the distance, the door was opening again and Gavril was back, carrying a tray. It was a painful thing, going through the motions of their normal routine, eating together quietly like there wasn’t the weight of what had happened in the library over them.

She ate especially slower than usual, eating her bread crumb by crumb to stretch it out until the sun had long since set, hoping the lack of light would help her turn her heart to iron and put up an illusion as good as the ones Gavril cast.

When finally she had nothing left in her hands to help her avoid Gavril’s soft, waiting gaze, she looked up and said, “Gavril…”

“Please, let me speak first,” he said in her tongue.

She sat back and nodded. Gavril took a deep breath and said, “I—I will not take what I said back. You knew even before I said it. You just did not want to. I understand. I do not—I expect nothing from you. I deserve nothing from you. I got ahead of myself today. You… you accused me of hiding things from you. I am trying—but I am such a weak, frightened man, I cannot seem to find the courage yet for it all. I will—”

He reached for her left hand, taking it in his and holding it between them. His other hand was in his pocket again.

“There is something I must tell you. I will. You… you said above all else, you want peace. I will… I will give it to you. Then I will tell you, and… and… I will—” His voice cracked and he tightened his grip. “I struggle to even speak it, but if after that—if by then you are certain—because when you know the truth, you are certain you cannot forgive me and you cannot love me and there is no part of you that could ever want me again… I will let go ofmea spes.”

A secret worse than studying her like a lab rat without her knowledge?

She would never forgive him for the first—well, her actions in the library and for the past two months begged to differ—if there was something worse, she would not let herself be so weak as to forgive him of it the way her pathetic heart had seemed to already let go of her disappointment for the first.

She had the words on the tip of her tongue, but they would not come.

Instead, she whispered, “I do not understand. How did you cast a rune of my people?”

Gavril stared at her blankly for a long moment.

Then he laughed, bright, beaming, beautiful. His head fell back as he held his stomach while he laughed.

She didn’t understand why this was so funny.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and then he wiped at his eyes as his laughter slowed. He said, “Contumax puella,practical to a fault, of course that is what you really wish to discuss.”

She insisted, “Inimicus can’t cast with one hand. You just defied every law of magic we know of.”

Gavril shook his head. “Actually, that weknewof. Today we have made history, and yet successfully using one of your runes is only the second-best thing to happen to me today.”

Oh, she could strangle him.

She ignored the blush spreading across her cheeks as she hissed, “You promise peace. How does your people getting the ability to cast singlehandedly do anything but add to your people’s strength? Your people who want to cleanse mine of some imagined corruption through eradication?”

But then he was staring at her with that intensity again, and her heart stuttered as he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I have a rather great incentive to give you what you want most so that I might become the desire to replace it.”

Gavril brushed his thumb over her cheek, and she pretended his voice and his touch weren’t what sent a shiver down her spine.

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