'Come to the monastery.'
Ilya would recognize the annoying, sloping writing anywhere.
A single line. No signature. Extravagant, decorated stationery. Gi really got on his nerves. He had sent her letters constantly for three years and she never responded. And now? Just a demand, coming out of nowhere with no explanation. After all they had been through.
He crumpled the letter within his fist. Why should he respond to her when she had never given him the same decency?
But at night, when he laid in bed, the letter haunted him. Surely it was important for Gi to call him. She always hated him, hated his country, and hated its people. But she was one of the few that shared a heavy secret with him.
And her letter was no doubt related to that secret. But why now and not three years ago?
Each night, he would pull out the letter, smooth out the creases, and then crumple it in frustration. Each night he would calculate the days in his head. It was still three more years before he would finally meet her, the girl that haunted all of his dreams. It could be dangerous if they met too early. Gi knew that.
What did she want from him? There was only one way to know.
Three months after receiving the letter, Ilya set sail to Vaelia. It was another month before he reached the shore and then a week's travel to get to the monastery.
By the time he arrived, Gi was furious.
"There's no point in you being here now," she hissed. "You're already too late."
"Too late for what?"
He paused for a moment to assess Gi's dress. It was too fancy for just a normal day. It looked like she was preparing for an event. She muttered a curse in Vaelic before calling a servant over.
Finally she smiled. The same smile that would always make Ilya's blood turn cold. "Would you like to go to a party, your highness?"
Ilya pulled at his sleeves. Vaelic clothes had always made him uncomfortable, they were so vastly different from the clothes of the empire. Vaelia lacked the same ideals of modesty. Women walked around with their shoulders and backs exposed and Ilya had already seen several men who's shirts only covered a fraction of their chest. Ilya swallowed hard.
The only time he had been to the isles before were during the invasion. He didn't have time to marvel at the art and beauty Vaelia was famous for.r. When he came to the monastery it was already reduced to smoldering ashes. He found himself breathless at the beauty of the Vaelia isles untouched by wars. He realized why his father wanted to conquer the isles so badly.
Ilya watched the Vaelic people in the throes of celebration. They had no idea in mere years their home would be torn away from them. Ilya couldn't warn them. No one would ever believe him. And even if they did, they would most likely kill him assuming that he was a spy or threatening them.
Besides, it wasn't as if Vaelia had his loyalty. It simply only housed the girl he loved. He owed nothing to the country. But he owed everything to the girl.
He eyed Gi nervously. "Why are we here?"
"Why are any of us here?" She answered mysteriously. "By the will of the gods."
Ilya rolled his eyes, silently chastising himself for expecting a straight answer from her. It seemed Gi's greatest pleasure in the world was mocking Ilya and reminding him of all his past mistakes.
The doors to the large ballroom opened. Gi inhaled sharply, her hand clenching around Ilya's bicep. He cut a look to her, wondering why she was behaving so oddly, before craning his neck to see who the guests of honor were. A man entered first, someone that Ilya felt was oddly familiar. He didn't know where or when he saw his face, he just knew that he had. And then a woman followed a few steps behind. Even with every inch of her covered, Ilya knew immediately who she was.
Beatrice.
His heart fell to his stomach. The air left his lungs. "She's married?" he asked, very quietly.
"Yes."
"But that's impossible, because we-" Ilya's voice cracked. He raked a hand roughly through his hair, pulling his eyes away from the couple that commanded everyone's attention. Beatrice's face was covered by her veil. He wondered if she was smiling, her rare smile that could kill any man right where they stood.
Ilya's blood boiled at that thought of her smiling at that man. He clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white, resisting the urge to put his hand through the damn wall.
Gi sighed, exasperatedly, as if she was dealing with a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum. "You don't really have any right to get angry." Ilya turned his furious glare at her but she only shrugged in response. "I sent you a letter months ago. You should've come earlier if you were going to pitch a fit."
"How was I meant to know?"
Gi shrugged in response, watching Beatrice and her new husband carefully. Her eyes were clouded and pained. She knew something that she wasn't sharing with him.
Another reason why Ilya hated Gi. It was impossible to tell who's side she was on. The only thing that was clear was that Gi loved Beatrice. But to what extent? Did she love her only for her own gain? Or was it pure? Did she have some great plan? Or did she want Beatrice to be happy?
Ilya could never know for sure. After all, Ilya loved Beatrice, but watching her with her new husband, he realized his love was very selfish. He couldn't find happiness in just the mere knowledge that she was happy if it was not by his side.
It didn't matter if she didn't love him. She hadn't loved him before. But he needed her by his side.
"How could you let this happen?"
"I didn't let anything happen," Gi retorted. "I tried to stop it. But unlike you, your highness, I don't have a lot of power. I am not the prince of an empire."
"Does she love him?" It was the question he was the most afraid of hearing the answer to.
He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he sighed in relief at the sight of Gi shaking her head.
"Not yet." Beatrice walked across the room, disappearing, unnoticed, into the hallway. Without realizing it, Ilya had moved to follow her. Gi grabbed his arm. "But she will."
"This happened before?"
"She'll be married three times."
Ilya's eyebrows knitted together. Beatrice was still young. She would be married once more before she met Ilya in three years. His eyes went to her husband, laughing loudly, surrounded by women. What the hell would happen to that man? And what the hell still awaited for Beatrice that he didn't know?
Things that Gi knew and wouldn't share. He felt another surge of hatred for the woman hanging on his arm. He shook her off, taking off in the direction Beatrice had disappeared towards.