Page 89 of The Prince's Mage

Still the cell door slammed behind her and the Inimicus guards were gone shortly after it, muttering about the she-wolf.

Marcella stayed on her knees where she’d been thrown. Her limbs might as well have been made of marble. Even if she had somewhere to go, she didn’t think she’d be capable of it.

All she could do was sit there, leaning on her hands and staring at her wrist.

But she wasn’t looking at the vitae-limiting cuffs. She was looking at the lines disappearing beneath them and the rune etched into the metal tied to her skin.

Her wedding bracelet. The lines scorched into her skin that marked her as someone else’s. It felt obvious now, looking back. All the little things that she’d written off.

Or even the big things she hadn’t understood. Maybe because she didn’t want to.

The ritual on the road. Well, it had been a ritual. A marriage ritual.

How after he’d crossed that barrier and slept in her tent. He hadn’t laid a harmful hand on her, but it satisfied all appearances, especially if he’d done it to protect her.

The way he’d presented her that first day, his cloak around her shoulders, to his family. How he’d held her so tenderly after the table the first time. Repeating the ritual as a tradition before he’d left. It wasn’t just for anyone. It was a tradition for a husband and wife. The same with his cloak. All gestures saved for the closest, most intimate of relationships.

Why she’d been put in the room connected to his. It wasn’t because he’d had her marked as his she-wolf. That was the room for his wife.

Why he’d never once hesitated to spend the night in her room with her after her nightmares. Of course there was no appearance of impropriety or dishonor in his mind and it had nothing to do with the innocence of the gestures. He was expected to be in her room or her in his.

And it did nothing to change the way his people viewed her. They could know she was his wife and still call her a she-wolf.

This was why her people wouldn’t even consider letting her teach the young mages in her clan as opposed to being a soldier. She was too stupid to even realize she was married when it was staring her right in the face. Of course she shouldn’t be trusted with instructing anyone. She couldn’t even figure out something so obvious on her own.

She cursed herself. If she hadn’t been so focused on herself and on her own stupid schemes, maybe she would have realized it sooner. If she’d just asked the right questions, pushed Gavril just a little harder every time he fell silent—

But what would it have changed?

Her mind was still spinning with the realization and her anger with herself for being so ignorant when light runes appeared along with the footsteps of the guards.

Marcella lifted her chin and held her head high as they hauled her off the ground. She did not dare hope. Her faith was left shredded in tatters behind her for all the good it had done her lately.

She didn’t even let herself pick up a speck of hope when the guards turned left and not right. The tables weren’t in the palace anymore, so if that was her fate the direction didn’t matter.

The two guards muttered to each other; likely unaware she was able to sufficiently understand them now.

“Do you think…” the one on her left said, trailing off but deliberately eyeing her wrists bound behind her back.

“Do I think this filthy she-wolf with blood thicker and dirtier than mud was able to cast a pure two-handed rune?” The one on her right scoffed. “No. I’m not an idiot.”

“A Runai from my class at the academy was there at the banquet and he swears on his vitae he saw her do it,” the one on her left said.

“He saw an illusion. She’s Prince Gavril’s pet. He’s the best illusionist to walk the academy halls since their doors opened. And anyone with eyes has seen how desperate he’s been to keep his stray around.”

“But if she did—”

“She didn’t. She can’t. It’s impossible. She’s a Sordes. Our pure runes are beyond her weak, infected vitae. She’s not even the best of her own inferior people if they sent her to die in the demon’s place.”

“Still… if any Sordes did—If a Sordes could cast one of our runes—”

“Be quiet before anyone else hears your nonsense, we’re almost there.”

Word was spreading… and it seemed some of the Inimicus might believe she’d done it. But did it matter when most of them believed it had all been an illusion?

No. Not to her at least. The only thing that mattered to her now was if Gavril believed she had been an illusion this whole time.

Although why she cared when he’d been lying to her for just as long was currently beyond her.

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