Prince Mikhail waited impatiently, his eyes trained on the door to the medicine hut. It had taken three days to procure a carriage from Pirchburg and for it to travel to Zimma. Although the distance was not far, there were no well-worn roads to travel on.
The Prince, however, was insistent that the girl should not travel by horseback. Even with treatment, her fingers and toes had indeed blistered from the severity of the frostbite she'd suffered, and the bruises across her body had hardly faded at all. She was still weak, and it seemed that whenever he visited her quarters, she was asleep.
He had exchanged several missives with Ilya and had arranged to meet with his aide and troops on the Southern Road. Ilya had learned very little about the servant girl who had convinced the Princess to flee. Her contacts in the capitol were discovered to have been made up and even they could no longer be found.
It was disturbing to say the least. It indicated that someone very powerful and well connected had infiltrated his home and that the Princess was still a target. He suspected his brother. The Emperor would not easily give up on the last daughter of House Eosin.
However, by Unarian law, even the Emperor could not openly take a woman known to belong to his brother. He would have to do so by stealth, not leaving any traces that pointed to him. This was why the only chance Mikhail had at keeping her alive was to convince the Emperor that she was dead and send her far away to Frem.
Which he would do. Which he had planned to do all along. Which he should have been working diligently on from the time she'd entered his home, and which he had put off doing for one reason or another for weeks now.
But no longer. The princess was not safe by his side. It was mainly by her own wits and sharp reflexes that she was still alive at this moment. He had failed to protect her already. From the first time they'd met, the only objective he'd ever had, that had come from his own desire, was to protect that girl. He would not fail again.
No. When he returned to Bludston, his first order of business would be to send Ilya to Frem.
Yet even knowing that she was in danger, the very thought of sending her away was still anathema to him. He would never see her again, and for the past decade, thoughts of her had sustained him through dark times.
And now... she had finally seen him. Not as a foolish and arrogant boy who needed saving, or as an enemy, or a murder, or an executioner, but as he was.
At least, that is what he told himself. She had looked at him with those beautiful eyes and he had seen his own desire reflected in them. She had welcomed his advances-- wanted him as he wanted her. He could bed her as soon as she was well again, and once he got her away from the watchful eye of that old witch creature. Surely, he should at least wait to send the Princess away until he'd bedded her. He'd regret it if he didn't.
He'd thought of little besides having her in his arms for the past three days. The memory of her small hand tugging at him, her body writhing in pleasure beneath his touch, those eyes like the ocean seen from the shores of Vezda-- the same color, the same depth-- Gods, the image had haunted his every waking moment. He'd tried not to think of it now, as he knew he'd grow hard again.
He might have had her already if she'd recovered faster. Unfortunately, she'd slept continuously, and that old witch had hovered around her like a greedy dragon guarding its treasure.
It would be just the two of them in the carriage all the way to Napolanva, and while he certainly didn't want his first time with the girl to be on a carriage seat, there were dozens of other tricks he'd learned and was eager to try.
The door to the medicine hut opened, and the Princess emerged, supported on one side by the old crone. She looked well, dressed in the new traveling gown he'd purchased for her. The women of the village wove the fabric themselves. It was a thick and warm material, and the dyes they used were derived from the Rainbow Pools. He'd chosen a brilliant blue color that complimented her eyes. He'd bought the cloak to match it, and it was lined in thick grey fur. Yes, she looked well, and warm too.
Mikhail moved quickly to open the door to the carriage and offer his hand in support, but the decrepit old hag waved him off and assisted the Princess herself, even settling a blanket attentively over the girl's knees.
The Prince climbed in once she was comfortable and slapped the roof of the carriage to signal the driver.
Once the carriage began to move, he glanced at her and saw that she was staring determinedly out the window, her arms crossed over her body in an almost defensive manner. Perhaps... perhaps, she was embarrassed about what had happened between them. Maybe she felt uncertain or had lost her confidence after so many days of not speaking with him. Was she angry? She was probably angry. Grieta had warned him before that women could be sensitive creatures, ruled by their emotions. However, the only emotion he had ever seen the Princess show, was anger.
"You... look... very nice," he remarked.
"Mmmm," she replied, without glancing his way.
What did that mean? What was 'Mmmm'? Maybe it was a difference in cultures. Maybe it meant 'thank you' or 'I agree' to Vezdans. Either way, the atmosphere between them did not thaw. He had done something to upset her, that was clear. The Princess was never at a loss for words, and most of the time barely had need of another person to carry on a conversation.
What had he done? No matter how much he racked his brains he could not fathom it.
"You... are you cold?" he asked.
This had worked for him last time. It would give her an excuse to move closer, and things could progress naturally from there.
"No, I'm quite alright, thank you," she replied primly.
Mikhail did not allow the feeling of defeat to show itself on his face. He had one last card to play. Silence. In all the years he'd known her, the only time she was able to maintain silence for a prolonged amount of time was when she was asleep or almost dead.
He crossed his arms in a manner that mirrored her own and stared out the other window.
The carriage bumped and shook its way across the plains. Hours passed, and still, she did not break. After some time, she leaned back against the cushions, adjusted the blanket on her knees, and closed her eyes.
Mikhail wanted to punch the wall in frustration. How could she sleep through the carriage bouncing and rattling all over the place? She was faking it, surely! He should call her out on such behavior.
He did not. He was a soldier and a general, after all. One did not storm the castle the moment they arrived. One cut the supply lines, blocked the exits, and waited for the enemy to weaken first.
"You should know..." the Princess began to speak with her eyes closed.
Victory, Mikhail thought, careful not to smile lest she opened her eyes.
"You should know that what happened in that village, between us... it will not happen again. I want to be very clear about that," she continued.
Defeat, Mikhail corrected himself and scowled.
"Sometimes, like on the battlefield, when you survive something horrid, you do things afterwards just to prove to yourself that you're alive. Just to feel... something... besides shock and horror," she said.
He considered an all-out attack at that moment. If he snatched the girl up, sat her on his lap and kissed her the way he had in the village, would she really push him away? Would she fight him, or would she moan against his lips and weaken in his arms the way she did before? He thought it would be the later.
"We don't have to be the sort of enemies we were before," she added. "You came to my aid when I needed you the most. You believed me that I would never break the treaty, and when I told you that Ilya, your closest confident, had betrayed you, you again believed me without question."
Shit, he thought. He'd forgotten to explain that Ilya had no part in her abduction. Not his fault, really. He'd had a lot to organize while she recovered, and she had slept through almost every visit he'd made to her bedside.
"...and I know what it's like to be betrayed. I cannot replace Ilya, and I cannot be your friend, but I will believe you as well. I will believe what you said... that you are not my enemy, not at this point in time," she decided.
"What if I want more than that from you?" he growled.
"You'll find that if you try to take it from me, you'll lose more than you'll gain," she replied quickly.
Which was entirely true, he realized. He should have never desired the girl in the first place. It had only served to undermine his ability to think clearly about her safety. The more he wanted her, the less determined he was to send her to Frem.
"But since we're no longer enemies, there is something I want to ask, and I hope you will answer honestly," she said, opening her eyes to look directly at him at last. Mikhail swallowed thickly and pressed his lips together.
"Why do you serve the Emperor so faithfully, when you clearly have reservations about his character?"