Page 77 of The Prince's Mage

“Marcella—”

“Please. It… bothers me. I am… I know your people expect such from me, but they do not from you. But I—to be thought so when I have—It is a great insult that I would be so flagrantly defiant of my goddess’ tenants. We are not—I know you have expressed your—” Marcella swallowed. “There is no understanding, no expectation, even if we succeed.”

“But if we succeed…” Gavril whispered, his hand holding the empty air where her wrist had been, “would you enter an… understanding?”

Marcella didn’t know. For as long as she might have him, she would be at risk of losing him if it ever came out it was all born in lies. She didn’t know if she could live the rest of her life balancing on this knife just waiting for the wind to knock her onto it.

She was tired and her head was pounding and everyone thought she was worse than dirt and maybe she was.

Just not for the reasons they thought she was.

“Peace first. Then… I do not know,” Marcella said.

Gavril nodded as he rose, and she kept her gaze on her left wrist. He whispered, “I promise, it is not you. It is not that band. It is my people. I have tried to shield you, but I am always falling short. I wish I could be more for you.”

By the time Marcella figured out what to say, he was gone.

The problem was not him. It was her. She wished she could be more for him. She’d spent so long convinced he was the liar and a fraud when it had been her all along.

Long after Gavril had left, a silver-backed raven appeared, cawing on her sill. Of course it had. Marcella scrubbed at her cheeks and wiped at her eyes before storming over and hissing at it. The bird just spread its wings and the runes glowed, delivering the message.

It wasn’t a long one.

My little lookalike,

This is the eighth raven I’ve sent, and it better not return to me without this message delivered. I pray you’re not avoiding them. If you are…

You disappoint me. It seems the only thing you are useful for is your face. You have had many months to win the trust of the prince who favors you, and yet I do not have him as my hostage like you were commanded. And you have not yet died trying either.

My orders to you were always a longshot. I knew you probably weren’t capable of it. I don’t know why my father let you become a soldier when I would have put you to much better use.

It’s no matter. If you do not bring me the Heart and my hostage by the time I arrive on the Inimicus doorstep, then I will bring down their empire. As I speak, we’ve begun marching.

And little one?

You better start praying that when I find you, you have a good explanation for your failure.

Or that I’m inclined to show you mercy for your mediocrity.

Chiefess Hypatia of Desero

A chill went down Marcella’s back.

Hypatia had her coalition army.

They were marching.

Hypatia was demanding her hostage.

Marcella needed to be able to cast an Inimicus rune now.

Her mess with Gavril could wait.

* * *

The next morning, when Marcella didn’t sit down at the table, Aimilia, Gavril and Nikias all eyed her. She ignored Nikias and Aimilia and focused her gaze on Gavril. She said, “Know enough. Time to cast.”

Aimilia sputtered, flipping through her papers. “You can still only write simple sentences!”

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