Page 9 of The Prince's Mage

The panic in Aimilia’s voice had Gavril moving as quickly as he dared, darting out of the room and back into the hallway where Aimilia was casting a rune, creating an invisible wall and blocking the right side of the hallway. Gavril and Aimilia had arrived back in Areator in the dead of night and hadn’t wasted a second rushing back to the castle and straight to the healer’s workrooms while they were empty and no one could stop them. Unfortunately, the window of time they had where no one knew of their arrival was over.

Nikias was rushing down the hallway toward them with several guards and the healer on their heels. His eyes were fixed on Aimilia, burning, and his face flushed with rage. “You!I should have had you arrested the second I saw that look in your eyes, Commander. I should have known you weren’t capable of staying out of this. You have disobeyed my direct orders!”

Gavril quickly hurried to Aimilia’s side—her hands were starting to shake—but she still held them up and at the ready to cast. But her voice was strong and solid as she replied, “And you have broken the law not once but twice now! Consider us even, you cretin!”

Nikias came to a stop right before he hit Aimilia’s wall. His black chiton and cloak fluttered in the air as he caught himself on the wall with one hand. He didn’t even seem to see Gavril, carrying Marcella behind Aimilia. He was wholly focused on her. The guards behind him, however, eyed Gavril. He held Marcella tighter, but was highly aware how quickly he might have to adjust his grip and slip her over his shoulder to free his hands for casting.

“I could have your commander’s cloak for this,” Nikias hissed.

Now that Gavril could see Nikias in the light of the runes, he understood what Aimilia had meant on their wild rush back to Areator. There was something wild and wholly unreasonable in his eyes.

“Then I will be honored to lose it if keeping it meant letting you get away with this,” Aimilia said, lifting her chin.

“That’s not happening,” Gavril said, forcing Nikias’ gaze away from Aimilia and to himself. The illusion Gavril always had over his right arm itched, but he pushed away the urge to scratch it as he said, “You might have found a loophole in my vow for you to take advantage of, but you have still broken the law subjecting my wife to this again.”

Gavril should never have trusted him. He never should have left Marcella alone in Areator. He’d left to protect her from this, but it had happened the second he’d turned his back regardless.

“Just because you call her that doesn’t make her any less a demon!” Nikias spat, eyes narrowing in on Marcella. “And at least I’ve managed to save you from being stuck with her for the rest of your life.”

Right. Aimilia had mentioned he’d been calling Marcella that. And he too thought Marcella was dead.

“You’re wrong on both of those matters. First of all, she’s not dead. Second of all, she’s not the Desero demon. You know that, Nikias. This is Marcella, not Hypatia. And she has done nothing to deserve this.” Gavril wasn’t certain his words could get through to Nikias in his haze, but he also didn’t need them to.

He just needed to get Marcella to safety.

Then he needed to speak with his parents, and the second he did, Marcella would be as safe as she could be in this palace. It bought him time at least.

“No. That’s not possible,” Nikias said, shaking his head. His eyes darted over Marcella in Gavril’s arms. “No Sordes has ever lasted longer than five days before. Today is the seventh. Her heart stopped. I saw it myself when I had the rock brought to her for the healer to run tests on them both on the fifth day. She touched it, and her heart stopped while her hand was on it.”

No. Gavril felt his own heart seize in his chest. That couldn’t be true. That—

“The healer was measuring her heartbeat. We waited several minutes to be certain. She was dead.”

All he could see was her lifeless body on the table, so still and beaten that he’d believed on sight what the healer had told him. He’d believed she was dead then.

And Nikias wanted Marcella dead. He would have wanted to be certain.

Gavril’s arms shaking drew a pained whine from Marcella that immediately calmed his racing heart. Whatever Nikias thought—Whatever he’d measured—Whatever heartbeat hadn’t been there before, it was there now.

He focused on the warmth of her skin emanating from beneath his cloak and the soft brush of her steady breathing on his neck. She was alive now…

“Well, you were wrong. Clearly, she’s not. The rock must have messed up the healer’s monitoring rune,” Gavril said. He was so good at lying he didn’t even know when he was telling them half the time.

“You will be safe while I am gone. I promise. I’ve ensured it.”

He fully believed her heart had stopped like Nikias claimed.

But he also believed it had started again. A miracle. She’d said the rock wasn’t for him or his people, but it was for hers. Maybe for that very purpose. He didn’t know. All he knew was that she was alive when she wasn’t supposed to be.

If it had been solely up to his abilities, she wouldn’t be. Of course she wouldn’t. He was the worst failure among men.

“She’s a Sordes. She’s from Desero. She’s the demon’s spitting image. That’s good enough for me.” Nikias spat. “She cannot be the demon’s replica without being one herself. And her heartstopped. But if it beats now… what more evidence do I need that she’s as abominable as the demon herself?”

Aimilia turned her head, her hair falling into her face to hide her lips as she muttered, “I told you we can’t reason with him.”

She was right. He hated it when she was right.

Gavril muttered back, “Then we need to just get away from him.”

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