"Take that thing off your face," Karin ordered as soon as they were alone.
Beatrice complied obediently, twisting her veil in her lap.
Karin stood, walking behind Beatrice and gently stroking her hair.
"I understand why you have to hide your gods forsaken face," he drawled. "But why your beautiful red hair?" He twisted a lock around his finger. "It reminds me of the shade of hellfire."
Beatrice looked at her bloody palm. She wiped her palm against her dress, leaving a bright streak upon the pure white cloth. She felt some sick satisfaction at the stain, pressing her palm harder against the skirt, imprinting her handprint onto it. The dress would never be able to be worn again, but Beatrice would refuse to throw it out.
Karin seemed displeased at Beatrice's lack of response. His grip on her hair grew a little tighter. Beatrice hissed in response.
"How was your wedding night, my daughter?"
Ah.. there was the truth. Ephraim had sold her out to the archbishop. And she had been called here to be punished. Fine. Karin could do as he liked, Beatrice did not care anymore.
"It was quite pleasant," Beatrice lied.
She caught sight of her face reflected in the window. It had turned white from guilt. Karin, ever the eagle eyed, caught her looking at herself. She cursed her previous self, her previous innocence, that she did not ever learn to lie.
"If you had such a pleasant time," she felt Karin's cold finger on the back of her neck. "Then why was there no blood upon your sheets?"
Beatrice clenched her bloody fist, watching fresh blood come from her nail marks.
"I did not bleed."
Karin's hands turned to stone, twisting her hair tight within his fist. Beatrice winced, it felt as if Karin would tear her hair from her head. "You are a liar, Asaemia," he said calmly, as if he was not inflicting pain upon another person.
"Perhaps I was not a maiden."
"If you keep lying to me I am going to get angry."
'Get angry then," she cursed in her head. But on the outside she smiled. She reached up and grasped the archbishop's hand tightly. She tried to make the gesture seem affectionate, but she added as much physical pressure as she possibly could.
"Prove it," she said defiantly. "If you have proof that I have lied, then I will gladly take any punishment you deem fit."
Karin walked to the other side of the couch so he was face to face with Beatrice. He crouched to her level, seizing her chin.
"I think you are forgetting who makes the rules, my darling."
***
"Go home, your highness."
Ilya raised his eyebrows at Gi's blatant disrespect.
"There's no reason for you to stay," Gi continued. "You've already failed to stop the wedding. I've got no use for you now."
Ilya knew that it would be best for him to leave. It would be better for him to go back home and pretend he never came to the isles in the first place. Beatrice thought of him as nothing more than a spy of the archbishop. She would probably react even more negatively if she knew he was from the Almiran empire.
If he was a better man, he would leave.
But Ilya already knew he was a selfish man.
"I'll stay a bit longer."
Gi's eyes narrowed. "Go home," she repeated.
"I refuse."
Gi shook her head as if she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. "You are going to ruin everything."
Ilya laughed. "How could you possibly know?"
Everything had changed now that he was in Vaelia. They had no way of knowing what could happen next.
"So you'll come, try to get close to Bea… And then what? Will you go back to the empire when it's time for the invasion? Will you come and betray her knowingly? Or will you stop the invasion?"
"That's impossible," Ilya said firmly. He had tried to subtly redirect his father's gaze from the Vaelia isles. But the emperor had locked on. The emperor was no fool, he was still dealing with the aftermath of a recent invasion. But in three years, he would be ready again.
The emperor was a tyrant. No one could change his mind once he decided on something. Especially not the bastard prince.
"I have no control over the invasion."
Gi's expression hardened. He had always known, perhaps from the moment they struck that deal, that Gi had hopes that he would stop the oncoming invasion. She had never spoken it out loud, but he could tell by the way she used Beatrice as a bargaining tool. Perhaps Gi had never cared for Beatrice at all, she just wanted to save her country.
Ilya shook his head. That would be doing Gi a disservice. She was aggravating, that was for certain. Arrogant. Selfish. But she hadn't treated Beatrice poorly.
He shouldn't suspect the only person that shared his secret. It would only drive him mad.
"Stay away from her, Ilya," Gi dropped all pretenses. "It'll only cause trouble for us all."