Page 67 of The Prince's Mage

Nikias was almost as stubborn as she was.

Gavril shook his head, brow pinching. “You are impossible.”

Then he froze and a light entered his eyes. A smug grin spread on his face as he lifted his hand again and said, “Marcella,deliciae, step back.”

Nikias’ eye twitched at the term of endearment, and Marcella ignored the heat flooding her cheeks at the fact he’d just called her darling in front of his brother. She did push herself to her feet and backed up.

“What are you doing now?” Nikias asked as Gavril lifted his hand to cast again. Gavril just grinned as another ball of vitae formed in his hand.

But this time instead of scorching the stone, Gavril threw it at Nikias and hit him in the side, burning through his chiton and scorching his skin. Nikias hissed and immediately dropped to his knees, using his good arm to curl around himself.

Gavril called, “Still think it’s an illusion?”

“You brat…” Nikias hissed as he leaned back against the fountain, tearing off a scrap of his chiton and dipping it into the water before pressing it to his side.

Gavril just grinned. “You deserve worse.”

Marcella couldn’t disagree. She took a hesitant step forward now, unsure if this was the moment. Nikias was even more injured and distracted. Gavril was focused entirely on him. All she had to do was take Gavril by surprise and knock him out.

So why couldn’t she lift her hand and cast?

“Fine. You’ve proven your point. Impossible point, butow,this—real and it can only be Sordes from how unrefined it is.” Nikias huffed, leaning his head back as he pressed the damp fabric more tightly. “How? How is this possible?”

She gritted her teeth and started to raise her hand. She had to.

Gavril was beaming now the way he had right before he’d kissed her. He said, “Because I’m right. We are not like the Elemens, divided—practice and limitation. The SordesareRunai. Their vitae is not corrupted—we do not have separate magic only separate styles. Runes in different languages, but if we learn that language, we can learn the casting runes. We can cast them and they can cast ours. We are fighting overnothing.”

Wait, what?

Marcella froze. He hadn’t just been trying to prove there was no corruption. He’d been trying to prove there was no difference.

That they were really the same people after all. That their magics were entirely compatible because they were the same magic.

“And what? Just let all of this bloodshed be for nothing?” Nikias sat up straighter, abandoning his side and lifting his good wrist, his left wrist. He gripped it with his right hand, still in the sling, wincing at the slight motion. His left wrist was always hidden beneath his tied sleeves, but when he gripped it, the sleeve shifted. Marcella could see the faint scars as he dug his nails in, jostling his bad arm and the pain evident on his face as he did so. His voice took on a darker, more guttural quality. “Let—Let Faustina’s death be fornothing?”

Nikias said the name, Faustina, like a wound that cut deeper than his broken arm and the burn on his side. Faustina…

Marcella had never heard anyone mention her before. Not that she knew many of the Inimicus by name, but clearly Gavril knew her by the way the hardened expression he’d been using with Nikias softened a little.

Gavril said, “Do you really believe other Runai should have to suffer the same agony as you to make your loss worth it? When does it become worth it? When every Sordes mage is dead? What about their Solitus? What does that get you?”

Nikias looked at Marcella for a split second, and her hand fell. “I—Letting your Sordes be is different from just letting the real demon have everything she wants.” He shook his head and spat, “I’d settle for Hypatia’s head.”

What did Hypatia have to do with any of this? At least he knew she wasn’t Hypatia anymore.

“Then what? Even if you could have Hypatia’s head, what does it change? This whole mess started because we—superiority—could not—people who use runes like we do could be like us even though their runes look different. We assumed they were inferior—practice of magic—as backwards and savage as the Elemens—choose—Asentai—knowledge at all costs—not abandoned her children—lesser because they need temples like the Solitus do—favor—nature of existence. What do we want? Their land? Their Solitus to pay taxes to us? Must we wipe them out—magic that is no—nature than ours because it is the same as ours?”

The speed and passion with which Gavril spoke had Marcella missing a few words and phrases she was not as familiar with, but she knew what he was arguing. Her hand hovered awkwardly at her side, half raised and half abandoned.

Gavril slowed and spoke more softly, glancing over at her for a moment before turning back to Nikias. “Why can we not have peace? Why can we not just be one people? We both believe we are the children of Asentai despite our people’s lack of faith, we know where our magic came—We are not like the Elemens—see us wipe each other out or cast us all into the Abyss so they can claim our land in—one people? Instead of slaughtering each other and putting people on tables to cut them open—every ounce of knowledge there is—worked together? If the Abyss grows, it will swallow us all the same, Runai and Sordes alike—all Runai truly. Think—we could study it instead of each other. Our children could go theacademieand learn runes of our style and theirs and be more powerful and skilled than any of us could hope to be in just one. We could have the most powerful empire this world has ever seen if we could just have it together instead of at the cost of each other.”

That…

Marcella squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as she imagined such a beautiful future. There was another option.

Gavril was… he was a visionary.

Marcella was a coward only looking out for her own skin.

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