Prince Mikhail closed his eyes just before the wine hit his face and froze with his arm still extended in mid-air, reaching toward her. Talia gave a horrified gasp and stepped back as the alcohol ran down his face and neck, dripping from the end of his nose, and darkening the color of his tunic.
He would strike her now, surely. The minute he opened his eyes he would--
The Prince wiped the sleeve of his tunic across his eyes and sat back in his chair. He snatched one of the folded linen napkins from beside his plate and wiped the alcohol from the rest of his face.
Talia watched him nervously, still clutching the empty glass in one hand, but he appeared completely calm. A small nagging voice in her head informed her that she had gone too far. She set the glass on the table and twisted her hands together waiting for him to speak.
"As this is only a tavern, there are no rooms to rent for overnight. There is, however, a couch and a few comfortable chairs in the private room just through there. It is normally used as a smoking room of sorts, as it is not abnormal for guests to have a few too many drinks and to spend some time there... digesting their meals. You may rest a few hours before we travel on," he said in a low, gravelly tone.
"You.. you're not upset?" Talia asked and swallowed thickly.
"I am not upset," he frowned, and dropped the stained napkin disgustedly on the table. "Go and rest."
"And that is all you have to say to me?" she confirmed.
"What else would you have me say?" he scoffed and then looked away, pressing his lips together in that familiar way.
"You ARE upset, because I... perhaps... perhaps, I went too far," she admitted.
"Go and rest," he repeated.
Talia bent her knees and slowly eased herself down to sit in the chair beside him.
"It... makes me angry sometimes, the way you order me to do things. I am not used to being told what to do. I'm not very good at... being a slave, I suppose," she mumbled.
"You are terrible at it," he agreed.
"Many times, I've wondered when you will break. I think to myself: Ah! I've done it now. I've pushed him so far, that he will become angry and I will see his true nature. I am always waiting for you to slip. I am always waiting to discover what motivates you-- why you kept me alive and why you force yourself to be patient with me, why you pretend to be kind," Talia mumbled.
"I have told you already that I owe a debt to you which-"
"At first I thought that you meant to trick me into trusting you, because you hoped to learn the secrets of House Eosin, but you've never asked. You've never once asked about things like blood magic, or healing rituals, or even about your family's curse, and you surely know... you surely do know that these things are part of my heritage," Talia continued. "And then I thought... could it be that it's something as simple as lust? He simply wants to bed me, but... I am not your match in size, strength, or skill. If you wanted that, you could have taken it at any time. So then I thought, perhaps... perhaps the Prince means to win my heart."
"I assure you I would have no use for it," he growled.
Talia nodded her head in agreement.
"No. You wouldn't. It was vanity I suppose, on my part to even think it." she murmured.
"I will send you to Frem when I make contact with an ally there. You will have your freedom, Princess, I swear it," the Prince said and finally turned to look at her.
"Frem? I will not go to Frem," she shook her head. "I will not be the one who breaks the treaty and destroys my people!"
"We shall convince the Emperor that you are dead and then-"
"You mean to fake my death and send me off to Frem?" she repeated, horrified. "And what happens when the Emperor discovers that he has been tricked? He will take it out on my people, and perhaps on you as well."
"He will never find out. Frem is an island country very far away. We only have trade ships come in from there a few times a year, and the Emperor has no interest in such a small and insignificant little nation," Prince Mikhail assured her.
"What about when I leave Frem?" she asked.
"You will not leave Frem. You will live there," he clarified.
"Until I die?" she scoffed.
"Yes, or until the Emperor does," he agreed.
"You mean to make me a prisoner of Frem?" she demanded, her voice rising.
"Not a prisoner, no. A free woman, a foreign dignitary, you can live your life as you please there," he soothed.
"It does not please me to live in Frem at all. That I should spend my life hiding, that all my people, all those I am close to, should think that I am dead and grieve pointlessly? That I should abandon my duties and live in fear of discovery, like a shaking, cowardly-"
"It is a good enough place to live, and you will live there, it is decided," he growled.
"And again I say that it is trading one prison for another!" she snapped "I do not agree to it!"
"I did not ask you to agree. I am telling you that it is what will be done," the Prince said and narrowed his eyes.
"And I am telling you that I will not go! You will have to bind and gag me and throw me in a cell for the rest of my life. I tell you I will not live in Frem!" she informed him, raising her voice as she stood.
"If you stay here, you will die, Princess. As the Emperor grows more and more desperate to conceive an heir, he will turn back to the old stories and sacrifice you for the power in your blood. I cannot prevent it. You will die!" he seethed, rising to his feet as well.
"Do you think it frightens me to know that? I should already be dead! I agreed to die before I came here. I am prepared, and my blood will be no use to him!" she shouted.
Prince Mikhail's hands curled into fists, and he scowled. Talia flinched, and immediately the fire in his eyes disappeared and he looked away from her.
"You will do as I say," he muttered, his voice returning to its normal low and deadly calm tone.
Talia snatched the half-full wine bottle from the table and raised it as though toasting him.
"I will not," she grinned and then set the bottle to her lips and swigged directly from it.
Prince Mikhail moved to snatch it from her, but she blocked his move by turning her back to him. He wrapped his arm around her, trapping her against his body and seized her wrist. With his other hand he prized the wine bottle from her grip even as she wriggled and jerked to escape. He twisted the bottle loose and threw it at the wall where it smashed. Wine and glass exploded against the wall, leaving a long pink smear in its place.
Talia screeched and whirled round to face him. She raised her hand and tried to hit him, but he tightened his arms around her, confining her so that she barely move.
"Let me go!" she screamed, and struggled wildly against the strong arms that held her fast against him. "Let go, now! I hate you! I despise you I... I..."
Looking up into his burning eyes, words left her. He wanted her. He wanted her so desperately at that moment that she could read it in every line of his face-- the clenched jaw, the intensity in his stare, the heavy and ragged way that he breathed. He wanted her and was desperately fighting himself.
"I... I... I'm..." she stuttered. His arm tightened around her waist and his other hand moved up to slip through her hair and then grab it roughly. He yanked lightly, jerking her head back to bring her lips closer to his and made a small, pained noise as he stared at her. Talia closed her eyes and swallowed a lump in her throat. His kiss, when it came, was rough.