Page 99 of The Prince's Mage

The only explanation he offered was a quiet, “Royalty knows every way to escape the city in case of an emergency.”

“Or in case of a prison break,” Marcella said, the slight tremor in her voice betraying how desperate she was to get any warmth from him.

He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes for a moment before picking up the pace, and she could feel pieces of her heart falling away to the ground.

They stepped back out into the moonlight, but this time on grass. She could see the forest in the distance across the flat ground the city stood on. A soft breath caught her attention, pulling her away from taking in the sight of being outside the city walls for the first time in so long. Two horses stood by the wall, tack and supplies already on.

Gavril took them by the reins and led them over before cupping his hand and kneeling beside one of them. He said, “Up you go.”

Marcella stepped into his hands and he boosted her up onto the horse. She had to fuss with the peplos before giving up and just hiking it to her knees so she could ride astride instead of sidesaddle. The peplos Aimilia had chosen for her to wear for the banquet hadn’t been made for riding. A chiton would have been a better choice.

She grabbed her reins as Gavril swung himself up onto his own horse and said, “Soldier, which direction is Hypatia coming from?”

Every time he called hersoldierthe word slammed deep into her chest, an aching emptiness. The way she imagined the void hearts felt.

Marcella gestured. “Northeast.”

“Then we ride. As far as we can before our absence is noted.” Gavril tapped his heels against his steed to prompt it to start moving.

“Then… you will explain?” Marcella asked, cursing how pathetic and desperate she sounded. But she was.

Gavril didn’t look at her. He just said, “Come, soldier, we have a lot of ground to cover.”

He spurred his horse into a gallop, and Marcella did the same.

She pretended the water in her eyes spilling over was from the sting of the wind.

Chapter36

GAVRIL

Gavril had underestimated how much willpower this was going to take.

He glanced behind him only to make sure Marcella was still behind him. Every time he did, he would see his cloak around her shoulders or the lines on her wrist, and he almost brought them to a screeching halt. He almost broke.

He’d known when he’d made his decision that this was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever done. Being near her and trying to stay his course…

She needed to just be a soldier, and he needed to be a commander. There were far bigger things at stake if he let his runaway heart soften him the way it had been since the second he’d laid eyes on her.

So he avoided looking at her. He bit the inside of his cheek when she would speak to hold back everything that threatened to spill out. And mostly, they rode hard and fast.

They were finally forced to stop or else the horses would keel over—Gavril told himself it was for the horses’ sake and not because he could tell Marcella was at her limits as well. He’d coddled her enough, and she’d happily taken advantage of it, her orders always first on her mind. They weren’t stopping because he could see she’d gotten paler and was closer to falling out of her saddle than her horse was to collapsing. They weren’t.

But as they stopped, Gavril knew there was no more avoiding her. He did owe her an explanation of the plan at least. She had followed him this far with not a word of one, not that it was really much of a choice for her. Other than the fact with her own horse, she could take off in another direction anytime she pleased.

But she didn’t.

They were deep in the forest, and dawn was not far off as he brought his horse to a complete stop. He could hear Marcella behind him follow suit. Her eyes had never left him. Not once since he’d appeared in front of her cell had her eyes left him.

He swung himself off his horse, keeping his gaze lowered as he set about setting up a small camp and taking care of his horse. He felt her eyes following him.

Finally, he heard her start to dismount after she realized he wasn’t going to come help her down.

It was for the best.

She quietly helped him set up camp, but he could still feel her looking at him every second she could. He didn’t risk looking back and catching a glimpse of the wounded look he knew had to be there.

Once they were almost finished with the camp, Gavril, too exhausted to even cast a light rune—not that they would need it for long with dawn approaching—slumped to the ground. He heard Marcella’s soft footsteps until he felt the brush of her peplos’ hem against his leg. He took a long, slow breath and willed his heart into iron as she sat beside him.

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