"My Prince!" Ilya repeated, as Mikhail slipped out of the tent.
"Not here," he growled, and Ilya nodded and followed him to a shadowy spot beneath the trees some distance from the tent.
"Speak!" Prince Mikhail ordered. "What is it?"
"Two more riders, my prince, and both come under the Emperor's flag. The first messenger stayed on the Greater Road, just as you suspected, and has likely ridden past us by now, but the second took the east fork and is headed directly for our camp. I have yet to hear where the third has gone--"
"It is most likely that the third rider has taken the Lesser Road that leads to Dreyva. The Emperor suspected that we might have taken a different route than planned, and sent his messengers down all of the roads," Mikhail realized.
"We can kill the messenger. Make it look like raiders. We've already sent a message to the capitol about a raiding party to the west. It will only strengthen our reason for not taking the Greater Road as we'd planned. We shall just say the raiders got him," Ilya reasoned.
"Not now that we've crossed the river. There are too many lookouts between Hirkovist and the capitol. No."
"We may only have an hour or so. The message came delayed," Ilya added. "We can't move the entire escort troop that quickly. We'd have to break down camp first. Once the messenger gives the Emperor's order, you cannot disobey it."
"I am aware, Ilya! Would you still your tongue and let me think?!" Prince Mikhail snapped.
Ilya nodded silently, though he began to tap his fingers against his leg as though to communicate his impatience.
"If we say the Princess is... gone..." Mikhail began. An idea had begun to take shape in his mind.
"You think to take the Princess yourself and make it look as though she has escaped and that you've chased after her, but I remind you that if she escapes, the Treaty is broken. Right now, the Treaty stands. The Emperor is likely attempting to use the deferment clause and make some excuse about a renegotiation the same way he did with the Queen. No. we should take the chance and kill the messenger before he arrives. There is little the Emperor can do once we deliver a dead body and an unbroken treaty with Vezda," Ilya insisted.
"That soldier... the one who caused a scene with the Princess earlier... he looked young. He hasn't been a soldier long, has he?" The Prince mused.
"Oh, the Gods preserve us all! What is in your head now?" Ilya sighed.
"Kill him. Dispose of the body where it won't be found. I'll take the Princess through the woods to the northern gate while you send report that she was taken by a supporter of the Duke of Yevin. Find out which of the men spent the most time with that boy and have them tortured until they confess to whatever you ask. The treaty remains intact and when I bring her body out of the woods, I have followed both the Treaty and the Emperor's last given order. I only need three more days, and I can give her the poison. Any sooner than that, and..." Mikhail scowled as his words trailed off.
"An awful lot of trouble for one small person," Ilya shook his head.
"Yes. Saddle my horse and bring him around to this side of camp. Be discreet, of course. Once you've tied him, come to the tent. I doubt the Princess will go along easily. I'll need a gag, perhaps some rope as well," Prince Mikhail added.
Ilya made a strange face at this request but did not raise an argument. There was simply no time for it. He bowed, and slipped into the shadows in the direction of where the horses were staked.
Now came the difficult part. Should he take the Princess by surprise? Burst into the tent and snatch her before she could scream? Did he have time to attempt a ruse? Could he trick her into leaving the tent, walk behind her, and then cover her mouth?
Hastening his steps, he decided that there was simply no time to do anything other than take her immediately by surprise. There was no telling how close the Emperor's messenger was now.
He slipped through the tent expecting to immediately find himself face-to-face with her but, such was not the case. She was curled up on the cot, facing away from the entrance to the tent, and looked to be sleeping already. Surely, he had not been gone long enough for her to sleep. She must be pretending in order to avoid him. He crouched low and reached toward her, ready to clamp a hand down over her mouth as soon as her eyes opened, but then froze.
Something was very wrong.
She was too still. Surely, she was too still!
"Princess?" he whispered, giving her shoulder a rough shake. She rolled easily onto her back at his touch, her arm falling lifelessly with a muted thud beside her.
"Princess!" he hissed, grabbing her by the shoulders to shake her hard again, but the girl's body jolted limply under his hands.
"No, no, no, no," he growled. Dropping to his knees, he put his head to her chest, but heard nothing. He got no pulse from her wrist and felt no breath from her mouth.
What had she done? There were no marks on her body-- no blood! She'd been searched, she had nothing that she could have brought. What had he missed?!
He quickly ran his hands down her body, digging his fingers beneath her, searching for something, anything that might explain--
And there it was, an empty glass vial that must have fallen from her hand and rolled against her side when he first tried to rouse her. He recognized it immediately.
His hand flew to his neck as he realized exactly what had happened. He'd thought it strange that she had spoken with him calmly that first night. She never spoke to him if she could help it, let alone touch him, or ask him to touch her.
He knew the moment she clumsily attempted to seduce him that she was scheming something. He should have stopped her. He should have snatched her hand and flung it away, warned her that he was not one to be played with. It was his weakness, his crumbling will caving against his long held desire for her affection that had allowed for this to happen, and he cursed himself inwardly.
His careful plan was ruined. He would have to find a different way now.
As he thought, he lifted the girl's small, limp hand and held it against the side of his face, rubbing his cheek against the softness of her palm.
"My prince!" Ilya gasped.
He had entered the tent silently and stood over the two of them holding a bundle of rope in one hand.
"W-what is this? W-what's happened?" he stuttered.
"She took the poison," Prince Mikhail responded. His voice sounded surprisingly calm now.
"H-how? What? How did she take it from you, when... "he frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose as if the whole scene before him was causing him to have a sudden migraine. "Well, now we've really run out of options. It's over, isn't it?"
"No," Mikhail disagreed.
"She'll sleep for three days. Even if we strapped her to your horse and you rode hard for the capitol at this very minute, she'd wake before you arrived, and we have no more of this poison," Ilya reasoned. "We'll have to find an explanation for this, we'll delay and say it is illness, of course, but even if we kill the messenger now, before he gives you the order, the Emperor has plenty of time to send others. In fact, there are other riders already nearby who will soon discover that we are not on the Greater Road. There is no avoiding it. She will be handed over to your brother now. You tried-- WE tried, but--"
"I have... another way," Prince Mikhail frowned.
"Speak it if so, my Prince. I will listen," Ilya said.
"I will explain later. Go out and return my horse and wait for the Emperor's messenger. Do not give any indication that we expect him. When he comes, bring him to the tent," Mikhail ordered.
Ilya sighed and rubbed his forehead.
"Very well," he agreed and left the tent.
Prince Mikhail held the girl's hand a moment longer before gently laying it down beside her on the cot. He stared down at her, realizing he had never seen her face with such a peaceful expression before. He would likely never see her so at peace again.
He drew a deep breath and then leaned forward and quickly tore the skirt of her dress in half. He tore the strap from her shoulder and ripped down the front of her dress, exposing her chest which was banded in a strip of sheer fabric, and then laid her arm across her body, as though she had passed out trying to shield herself.
He ripped his tunic over his head and flung it to the side. Finally, he reached into his boot to remove the dagger that was always hidden there and drew it quickly and lightly against the side of his hand. He let the small amount of blood run into his palm, and then with his free hand, gently spread her exposed legs apart.
With a quick movement, he flipped his bleeding hand and stamped it on the blanket between her legs and then wiped his hand quickly against the exposed flesh of her inner thigh.
Snatching the cloth she used to wash herself from beside the bed, he pressed it to his hand, and sat with his back to her. He did not wish to look at what he'd done. It made him feel sick, reminding him too much of another young woman he'd once admired.
He pressed his lips into a hard, determined line, and waited for the Emperor's messenger.