Talia sat on the edge of the tub and carefully and slowly dried her arms and torso with the towel. She did not forget to move her legs which dangled in the water to make it sound as though she were still in the bath.
She unwound the splinter of wood which she had wrapped in her underbinding cloths and set it down discreetly beside her so that she could tie the first binding around and behind her. Her top cloth was filthy from sweat and she cringed when laying it against her newly clean skin, but it would only be for a moment. She tied the other cloth around her waist and tugged it down, kicking her legs again to move the water.
The Prince hadn't answered her about whether or not he planned on watching her sleep that night, but she hadn't really expected him to. He was certainly a twisted one. One of the many names for him in Vezda was the Emperor's wolf, and he was wolf-like in some aspects. The way he watched her was predatory, as though he were waiting for her to show some sort of weakness. She was not fooled by his act-- the act he did of turning his back to her, his constant detached and polite though succinct words, the pretense of respect he showed her-- it was all a play. He wanted to draw her in and earn her trust. He might have fooled Queen Ora, but his performance would not move her.
She watched his broad back and wondered again where she should strike. She would likely only get one shot. The neck would be best, there was a large artery there, but the Prince's neck was covered by his long black hair. He was also so tall that it would be difficult to bring the wooden shard down with that much force when she had to reach so high.
No, she should try to drive it in between his ribs and puncture a lung. He wouldn't be able to call out for help that way. Of course, his back was very muscular and she wondered if she would actually have the strength to shove it through. Even if she only wounded him, she might still be able to run past him to the door and--
"Princess?" he called, in a deep voice that sounded like it was full of gravel. She shuddered. She had to do it now before she lost her nerve.
""Still alive," she answered in her most exasperated tone. "I'm going under to rinse my hair. Don't you dare turn around if I don't answer you at the first call!"
She drew a deep breath, held it, lifted her legs and splashed down hard. The force of her kick caused the water to slap against the sides of the tub and she quickly rose to her feet.
There would only be a minute or two before he called out to her again. She had tested him several times by not speaking to see how long it took for him to question her. Creeping stealthily toward him, she gripped the wooden spike tightly with both hands and kept her eyes trained on that muscular back, trying to decide the point to drive it in.
His muscles tensed beneath his tunic. Had he heard her? Impossible! She was holding her breath, and her bare feet made no sound on the marble.
"Princess?" he murmured.
Talia froze. Did he know that she was there just a few paces from him? Certainly it was too soon for him to call out to her again, especially when she'd just warned him that she was going under the water. Did that mean he would turn around at any second?
Haste drove her the final few steps as she aimed the point of her spike to a point just below the scapula and angled it upward.
Prince Mikhail caught her wrist as he turned, twisting it so that she immediately dropped the wood shard. Panicking now, Talia balled her free hand into a fist and aimed for his face. She got one solid hit to the side to his jaw before he snatched her other wrist and bent her arm behind her back.
With her hands now tightly restrained, she could only wriggle and flail in his grasp. Prince Mikhail's eyes passed quickly down her body.
"Fuck," he whispered and closed his eyes, turning his head to one side.
She used his distraction to haul back and kick him as hard as she could. Her bare foot connected with his shin and she screamed as a shock of pain shot through her toes to her ankle.
At the sound of her screech, he immediately released her wrists and stepped back. Talia turned to run, but the moment she tried to put weight on her injured foot, her ankle rolled, sending another blinding jolt of pain through her entire body. She limped a few steps before her other foot slipped on the wet marble.
Time seemed to slow as she fell. Talia cringed and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself to hit the floor hard, but the impact never came. She was instead hauled violently back to her feet by her arm.
With a scowl, Prince Mikhail dragged by the arm back to the tub. Talia limped quickly to keep pace with him.
He must have been angry. He probably wanted to punish her and would shove her into the tub and hold her head under the water. Maybe he intended to--
The Prince snatched the nightdress from the shelf, shook it out and pulled it roughly over her head and then tossed the towel over his shoulder. Before Talia could speak, he stooped down and hefted her up in his arms.
She allowed herself to be carried out of the bath and down the hallway where he put his back to a door and shoved it open. Depositing her on the bed, he crossed the dark room, bent before the fireplace, and began digging through the kindling box. She watched in silence as he built a fire and then snatched a taper from the mantle and began lighting candles around the room.
As the flickering light grew, more of the room was revealed. The four-poster bed Talia sat on seemed excessively large. It had curtains drawn back and tied against each of the posts. A small writing desk with elaborately carved legs was pushed against the wall on one side, while a screen painted with willow trees and many beautifully dressed women stood behind a fainting couch on the other. There were two high-backed chairs near the tall window, and when he finished lighting the candles on the mantle and desk, Prince Mikhail drew one up to the bed beside her and sat down.
He had uttered not one word since the incident in the bathroom, which was terribly unnerving. She glanced up at him just he slipped the towel off his shoulder and dropped it over her head.
"Dry you hair," he mumbled. It did not sound like an order.
Talia reached up and grabbed the towel, pulling it slowly off of her head. The Prince leaned toward the desk and snatched a jar off of it. As she watched, he unscrewed it and dipped his finger into something that looked like paste. When he reached toward her face, she flinched away. He froze, his two paste-covered fingers still suspended in mid-air.
"You're angry with me, aren't you?" she demanded.
"No," he answered simply.
"But I just tried to kill you!" she insisted.
"Yes," he agreed, and reached out to stroke her sore and bruised cheek with his salve-coated fingers.
"You're lying. You're definitely angry... you should be angry!" she demanded.
Mikhail did not answer. Instead, he dipped his finger in the jar and applied another streak of the cold salve to her cheek, massaging it in gently with his thumb.
"I would be angry," she continued, wincing at the slight pain she felt as he rubbed her cheek. "If you're not angry, then what are you thinking of? Why are you so quiet? It makes me believe that you're plotting something, thinking about vengeance. What are you thinking about if you're not angry?"
"I think... you've improved since the last time you tried to kill me," he confessed.
Talia pushed his hand away and stared suspiciously at his face, attempting to determine if he was teasing her or not. He stared back, his face completely blank.
"Pfffft!" Improved... sure! I improved, just not enough, right?" she snorted and fell back against the pillows.
It appeared to her as if the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly.
"No, not enough," he agreed. "Why didn't you go for the neck?"
"I thought of the neck first!" she insisted. "It's just that... you... have a lot of hair, and I couldn't really see your neck to find the right spot. That's why I thought to go for the back, between the ribs."
"You're not strong enough to drive it in that far, and it is very difficult to find the right spot to slide it between the ribs and not directly into bone," he advised, dipping his thumb into the jar.
Talia sat upright and glared at him.
"I don't regret it, you know. I'll probably try it again as soon as I get an opportunity," she informed him.
"Yes," he agreed, as though the threat did not disturb him at all.
He reached up and caught her chin with one hand, pulling her face closer to his. Talia's eyes widened as his gaze fell to her lips.
"W-w-what a-are... ?" she breathed nervously.
"Your lip... it's opened up. It's bleeding again," he whispered. He reached up slowly and ran his thumb along her bottom lip. Talia drew a sharp breath in, and he paused with his thumb still pressed to her lip.
"I will not harm you, and I swear that I will not let anyone else harm you either. Your death can no longer help Vezda. It would be... easier... if you would agree not to harm yourself," he murmured.
Talia grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand firmly away from her mouth.
"I can't trust you. Don't you understand that? I don't believe what you say, and I know you don't trust me either... and you shouldn't," she explained.
Prince Mikhail nodded. His clear and fine brow furrowed in thought as he continued to stare at her lips.
"So long as you live, there is a chance that you will again gain your freedom," he said. "And if you are free, you might still help your people. Can you agree that I speak the truth in this much?"
"Yes," she admitted.
"Can you also agree that you don't know why the Emperor wishes to keep you alive, but that it might be possible to continue to live without serving any benefit to him?" he asked.
Talia thought a great deal longer about this question.
"I suppose that might be true," she admitted after several minutes.
"Then perhaps we don't need trust at this moment. Perhaps we begin by depending on logic," he muttered.
"Begin what?" she asked quickly.
"A new conversation," he frowned. "How is your ankle?"
"It hurts," she shrugged.
The Prince reached for her injured foot but stopped himself abruptly. He swallowed and took a deep breath as though steeling himself for battle.
It made Talia want to giggle. This great stoic and unbothered man must be one of those types who found feet disgusting.
Talia wriggled her toes with an evil grin that he did not notice.
"It REALLY hurts," she corrected herself. "What's wrong, Prince Mikhail?"
"Nothing," he answered too quickly and snatched her foot.
His large, warm hand wrapped around her sore foot, pressing it lightly. With his other hand, he began to rub gentle circles around her swollen ankle with his thumb. It was sore and painful, but felt somewhat pleasant as well. He passed over a particularly tender spot, and her entire body jerked as she sucked in a quick breath of air through clenched teeth.
"Mmm...hurts," she mumbled when he glanced up at her.
The Prince dropped her foot as though it had suddenly burned his hand and shoved the jar of medicine towards her.
"You should sleep," he ordered.
Without another word, he got up and retreated to the fainting couch on the other side of the room.
Not certain what she'd done to offend him, Talia frowned and set the jar on the bedside table before crossing her arms and falling back against the pillows.
"I won't be able to sleep as long as you're here, you know," she warned him, but he made no reply.
The last thing she remembered thinking was that it was odd how gentle such large hands could be.