The sun was still hours from rising when a small, hooded figure hastened down the outer hallway, keeping mostly to the shadows.
Princess Talia carried only her knapsack over her shoulder, but beneath her cloak, wore her sword strapped to her side. Stopping at the last door at the end of the hall, she knocked quietly. The door swung open immediately, as though someone had been standing behind it waiting for her.
Once inside, Prince Mikhail took her knapsack and silently motioned for her to follow him. He went to the window, threw up the sash and tossed her bag out. Talia grimaced and waved her hand in front of her face. The stench was truly awful. Impatient, Prince Mikhail signaled for her to approach.
She stood next to him and glanced down at the courtyard. The room was indeed close to the kitchen scrap pile. She could see the dark mounds of refuge made blurry by the thick glass and the outline of the stables beyond.
"It isn't as far as it looks," he breathed into her ear.
Startled by the proximity of his mouth to her face, Talia jumped and then turned to glare at him.
"Climb out first, I'll drop you," he whispered and offered her his hand.
Ignoring it, she swung one leg over the window ledge, ducked under the sash, and then turned around. Holding tightly to the window frame, she lowered herself until she hung by her fingertips and then dropped.
She landed hard on her feet, sending an uncomfortable jolt through her body. A few seconds later, Prince Mikhail hit the ground in a crouch beside her. He stood immediately and snatched her bag, heading out of the courtyard.
Princess Talia snapped her fingers to get his attention and then pointed at the stables. He scowled and shook his head. Of course, he'd have thought to have the horses saddled and waiting elsewhere. She followed him into an alleyway and then down a deserted side street where a few lanterns still flickered, casting long, dancing shadows across the cobblestones.
They turned into another alleyway, Talia hurrying after Prince Mikhail to try and keep pace, and were immediately frozen by the sound of horse hooves ringing across the stones. At that hour, it could only be a patrol, and they were approaching quickly.
Prince Mikhail quickly glanced to the left and right but seeing no open doorways, and nothing to duck behind, he instead snatched the princess by her waist and shoved her back against the wall, covering her body with his own. She raised a hand instinctively to strike him, but Mikhail was faster and caught her by the wrist, pinning her arm above her head. He lowered his head until their faces were close together and then froze, listening.
Her brain finally caught up to her physical response as she realized what he was doing. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. It was such a cliche, after all! No one who had ever read a book would fall for it. One of the soldiers called out to them as they approached:
"You there!"
Prince Mikhail jumped, pretending that he had only just realized the patrol was approaching and turned to face them, still shielding Talia from view with his broad chest.
"S-sir?" he stuttered in a voice that was not his own.
"Take your whore to a proper bed or at least a hay pile somewhere, before I throw you in the stocks for indecency!" the soldier barked.
"S-s-sorry, sir, r-right away, s--s--ir," Prince Mikhail drunkenly slurred.
Still keeping one hand clamped to her waist, he threw his other arm haphazardly around her shoulders, tugging her hood down farther over her face from his seemingly uncoordinated movements, before he staggered back into the street, passing the patrol as he leaned on her small form.
The moment the horses turned the corner and were out of sight, Prince Mikhail let go of her and moved several paces away.
"My apologies, Princess," he muttered.
"Yes, well, next time you might try walking right past them like a normal person. This is Vezda, not the Empire. You won't be arrested for being outside at night. You might be, however, for something like whoring about in public."
Prince Mikhail did not respond.
A few more turns and they reached the public livery stables where the Prince's aide stood waiting outside holding the reins of three horses already saddled and packed with gear.
"That's not Ferdie!" Talia realized at once.
"No, Princess, it's not," the aide agreed quite amiably. "We stabled our horses here as a precaution, but we could not have taken your horse from the fortress stables without some sort of commotion. Therefore, this fellow here... this fine-looking specimen of horse flesh... is a rental. His name is Bartrois, and I've been assured that he is an excellent fit for a lady rider." The aide patted the flanks of the elderly-looking, grey equine, who swished his tail irritably in response.
"They didn't have any... younger specimens?" Talia wondered, looking the horse over with pursed lips.
"They did not, but I will remind you, that this early departure was not our idea--"
"You may change horses at the border when we meet our escort unit," Prince Mikhail interrupted.
It was Talia who took the lead now, as the three headed for the northern gate. As ruler, they would have to open the gates for her. That is, as long as no one at the fortress had yet discovered her gone.
She had hatched the plan before entering Gelt, deciding to leave in the early hours of the morning the day before she was required to surrender. This way, there would be no tearful partings, emotional outbursts, or last-minute acts of valor. It was difficult enough to walk toward her death on her own two feet, but to have her last memories of the few loved ones who remained to her be tainted with hopelessness and despondency would make it still worse.
Or perhaps she was, deep down, a coward. Afraid that their fear and sadness would prove contagious. She would need to be very brave for at least a few more days.
At any rate, the emperor's dog had agreed to her plan and asked no questions, and she had left each of her close ones a letter explaining her decision, her advice, and words of parting that she probably would have fumbled had she tried to speak them aloud anyhow.
As the three approached the gate, Talia picked out the ruins of the old bell tower. In all the years since it had burned, there had never been time or the materials to rebuild it, but neither had they removed all the rubble. That was a proud moment for Gelt, and the ruins stood as a monument to the night a tiny Vezdan child defeated an elite unit from the Empire's army.
Talia glanced over her shoulder at the towering figure of Prince Mikhail, and as always, she found him staring back at her. He did not spare a glance for the collapsed tower, and his face gave no hint as to where his thoughts might have been.
The guardsmen were at first confused and then suspicious when Talia held up the seal of the House of Eosin. However, when she threw her hood back, they hurried to open the gates and bowed to the Princess as she rode through with her companions.
Outside the town, Prince Mikhail took the lead and the group veered into the wooded foothills of the Drail Mountain range. As the border would only shift after Princess Talia became a prisoner of the Empire, they were to meet the Unarian escort unit at the Volus Pass. There, she would officially surrender and be taken as a captive into Unaria.
Today was her last day on Vezdan soil. Her last day as a free woman. It somehow seemed fitting that she would spend it in the same forest where as a child she had made a decision that destroyed her entire family and brought her and her entire country to their end.
The slightly built Unarian with sandy blonde hair slowed his horse to ride beside her.
"We haven't been formally introduced, your highness, so I'll take the liberty now. I'm Ilya, Ilya Vanda of Pirchburg. I'm Prince Mikhail's war aide," he announced.
"A highly coveted job, I'm sure," she muttered dryly. She did not turn her head to look at him while she spoke.
"Yes, well, it had just occurred to me that having departed as early as we did, you might not have had your breakfast, and you might be hungry. Prince Mikhail probably won't stop until after midday for us to have a proper meal, but I do keep a few snacks and treats in my bag... if you're interested?" Ilya offered.
Talia did not answer, but she did glance at him from the corner of her eye, a movement which did not escape the aide's attention for he immediately began to rummage in his saddle pack.
"I've got some dried meats, nut cookies... do you like sweets? I'm very fond of sweets. Have you ever had fruit jellies?"
He leaned over and held out a small, waxed paper bag. When she did not take it from him, he shook it a few times. She turned to glare at him, but he continued to hold the bag out with a friendly smile. It was odd, Talia thought, that the great, silent ogre of darkness had chosen as his closest companion such a bright-faced, annoying dimwit. He would probably continue to pester her, so she scowled and snatched a deep orange-colored ball out of the sack and popped it into her mouth.
It was chewy and sweet and tasted of oranges. Her eyes shot to Prince Mikhail's back, and though he did not turn around, something about the set of his shoulders suggested tension, as though he were straining to hear the conversation behind him.
"I believe they are called Orange jellies--"
"Pfft!" Talia spat the candy out, snatched her canteen, gulped a mouthful of water, rinsed and spat again. "Disgusting," she scoffed.
Ilya's face fell.
"Ah... well, everyone... has their own... their own tastes, I suppose," he mumbled, and glanced toward Prince Mikhail.
It was late in the evening when they set up camp, and in the moonlight, Talia could just make out the rocky entrance to the Volus Pass farther on.
After setting up the tent, Ilya began to cook their supper while the Princess spread her cloak on the ground nearby to sit. In the morning, she would become their prisoner. She wondered what that would mean. Would they bind her hands and gag her? Would the escort team bring a wagon for her to ride in, maybe one with a cell? She didn't know what the roads were like on the other side of the mountains. She supposed it was possible..
A heavy thump in front of her recalled her from her thoughts. Prince Mikhail had dropped a pile of heavy fabric before her and now stood glowering down at her.
"For tomorrow," he muttered. "For you to wear."
She held it up and realized it was a dress made of a heavy, green fabric. It had long sleeves and volumous skirts in the normal style of women's clothing in the empire.
"I have my own clothing," she snapped, dropping it with the air of someone discarding a pile of rags.
"It will be much colder where we're going," he warned.
"I have my cloak."
"You'll be traveling with a group of thirty or so men who--"
"And you said I'd be guarded. Those were your words. You promised that. Did you lie?" she demanded.
"No."
"Sit down!" she ordered.
When he made no move and gave no answer, Talia sighed.
"Sit down, please," she repeated. "I don't like it when you tower over me like that. It makes me nervous. Please sit down. There are a few matters that I'd like to discuss with you."
Prince Mikhail hesitated a moment but then moved away a few steps and dropped down into a crouch.
"First, I am not simply being stubborn. I mean to die as the ruler of Vezda. I want to look like a ruler of Vezda. I want to wear Vezdan clothing and have my body displayed to your citizens in this way. I will not wear these clothes.
Second, I would like to know what to expect during my captivity. Will you bind my hands tomorrow? Will I ride in a cage? Will you strike or beat me?"
"No," he growled.
"That's... hard for me to believe," she admitted.
"You'll need your hands to ride a horse, and we need to travel quickly to get to the Capitol in a week's time. That would be difficult if we're... beating or starving you."
"I'd also like to know... about the poison..."
He watched her but made no answer.
"Does it take a long time to work? Will it be very painful?"
"No," he responded simply.
"What if we don't reach the Capitol in a week? Will you keep your word?" she asked.
"Yes."
"That means you have the poison with you now," she nodded.
"Yes," he readily admitted.
"Can I see it?" she asked, looking up to meet his dark eyes.
"Why?"
"Because it will help me to believe you. I still think there's a good chance that the Emperor will break the treaty and that whatever happened to my sister will happen to me. Show me that you're prepared. That you meant what you said," she insisted, still meeting his eyes.
The Prince's lips compressed to a fine line again as he stared back. It almost made her smile. A few strands of his long black hair had escaped their tie and hung in knotted-looking strands over his shoulders. Slowly and deliberately, she leaned forward and extended her hand as though she would tuck them behind his ear. He flinched, which caused her to stop, her hand still shockingly close to his face.
"Now is when you usually growl and say: Don't touch me," she whispered.
"Don't... touch me," he breathed, his voice cold.
Talia grinned.
"Or what... you'll kill me?" she whispered back. "Orange jellies... really? You were sending a message, weren't you? That everything that happened was my own fault for being stupid enough to trust an enemy. That's what you meant by it."
"No," he replied, his deep voice barely audible.
Ilya glanced at them from over the fire, curious as to what the two were whispering.
"Show me the poison. Show me you'll do what you promised. I'm not a child anymore. I'll never be naive enough to trust your words again," she hissed.
Still watching her, Prince Mikhail pushed her hand away and reached for the leather thong hanging from his neck and drew a small pouch from out of his shirt. He opened the pouch and held up a glass vial filled with a murky green liquid.
"Well, it's good to see that my death means so much to you, that you carry it close to your heart," she smirked, leaning away at last.
Prince Mikhail replaced the vial and dropped the pouch down his shirt.
"So that it won't freeze later," he corrected.
"Why don't the two of you stop whispering and come over here and have some stew?" Ilya snapped as though annoyed at being excluded from their conversation.
However, when the Prince did get up, she did not fail to notice the exchange of a glance between the two and the teasing smirk Ilya was unable to suppress. The beginning of an plan began to form in the back of her mind.