When Talia awoke, it seemed as though she had only slept a few moments. The last thing she remembered was speaking with Prince Mikhail, but she could not recall what she had said. Had she dozed off in the middle of a conversation?
She didn't even remember laying down. Blinking her eyes a few times, she wondered why they felt so dry. Her throat was extremely dry as well, and her mouth tasted sour.
Talia rubbed her eyes and turned on her side. She immediately noticed a familiar red and gold patterned fabric-- a Vezdan fabric!
She smiled to herself and stroked the cushion beneath her gently. How odd but welcome to see a reminder of Vezda in such a distant place. How had she not noticed such a detail before... or had she?
It was as if something in her mind had merely been waiting for her to be fully awake before opening the floodgate and letting loose a roaring torrent of confusing, horrifying, disjointed shards of memory! The Drail Tavern, the feast of Vezdan foods, the wine, the painting of Ora, the familiar marks on Ilya's arm, the shattered glass and china-- it all came rushing back to her... and then the image of Prince Mikhail tearing the back of her dress, of his hands running over her naked body, of grinding against his hardness and licking the salt off his naked chest like an animal!
Talia shrieked and sat bolt upright, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. She shook her head violently as if she could physically shatter the memories, but sitting up and moving so suddenly caused the edges of her vision to grow fuzzy and dark. The room spun and her head throbbed. She was so dizzy!
Talia fell back against the sofa, covered her face with her hands and moaned. She was horrified by her own behavior, and even more frightened of the blanks between the images, the things she couldn't remember.
Had she lost her virginity to a man she didn't love on the table of a tavern? She might die of shame! Oh, but there was talk of love. She remembered that now. She had tried to dig a confession from the Prince and he had said something... some sort of an apology because he did not harbor any feeling beyond desire for her body.
No. They had only gone so far as what she remembered. The Prince had stopped. She had done something wrong and he had stopped abruptly and turned his back to her. He was disgusted by... she could not remember what-- surely something she had said or done.
Talia moaned again and curled protectively into a fetal position. It was going to be incredibly awkward between them from now on. Perhaps she could pretend that she did not remember anything. Why had she let such a thing happen? She would never drink wine again! If she lived a hundred years, she would still never let an ounce cross her lips!
The door opened at that point, and panicking, Talia closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. She heard footsteps cross the room to where she slept, but it was not the Prince's familiar tread. The person moved far too sluggishly. She tensed and opened her eyes to see Ilya staring down at her.
"I heard you scream," he greeted her. "I figured you were finally awake."
"H-how long have I been--"
"At least four hours," Ilya answered before she could finish her question. "Four hours of just sitting in the other room tapping my fingers on the table, but he said not to wake you."
"The Prince..."
"Is gone. Left some time ago. He had business to finish in Chelblade and said that we should continue on and wait in Napolanva," Ilya answered the unasked question.
"He's gone," Talia realized. A wave of relief rushed through her followed immediately by a small stab of fear. Why? Why did he leave immediately after what had happened? Why didn't he wait at least long enough to say good-bye or give some sort of excuse or apology or... something?
"Did the Prince... was he... did he seem..." Talia struggled to form a question that sounded off-hand or unconcerned but could not find the words. She glanced up at Ilya hopefully, but he only stared back at her with a blank expression. He would not finish the thought for her this time. "Well... never mind, I suppose," she mumbled.
"He had the tavern girls clean up and fetch you something to wear, so when you're ready..." Ilya frowned, his tone implied that he had already waited long enough.
Talia glanced down and realized that she was wearing Prince Mikhail's tunic as a nightdress. She flushed, wishing she could melt right into the floor.
"Of c-course," she stammered, hoping that he would leave.
"I'll send someone in, and have the driver bring the carriage up," Ilya announced, pleased by her quick agreement. "I'm not supposed to let you out of my sight, by the way, but I trust that you can manage not to be abducted from a windowless room if I leave for a few minutes?"
Talia scowled, and sat up quickly, pulling the tunic down over her knees. It was not like her to cower or hide from anything! She was still technically a slave and a prisoner in a hostile country surrounded by enemies. She had to salvage her dignity. Over the last few months, it had been the only thing holding her together. She cleared her throat and raised her chin.
"Your memory must be very poor if you think me so defenseless. Perhaps, I should remind you.." she said and glanced pointedly at his bandaged hand.
Ilya smirked and shook his head.
"My apologies, Princess. I was only teasing," he said and bowed as he left.
Talia sighed heavily and rubbed her face. She was still incredibly tired and had no idea what time of the day or night it was. The initial relief she'd experienced upon learning that she would not have to face the Prince was entirely gone, replaced by a nagging sense of doubt.
They had spoken about him leaving during the meal. She couldn't quite remember every word, but felt certain he had said that he would not go. There was something also to do with the marks both the men had. Something that had started to make an odd sort of sense to her. Something from the history books she'd read as a child...
She tried to remember what it was, but found it hard to focus. She was still a bit dizzy, and it was difficult to concentrate when her mind kept wandering back to the mortifying things she'd done with the Prince. His eyes... the way they'd burned with such intensity as he stared down at her... it wasn't any wonder she'd believed that he loved her.
But it wasn't only that! She was no fool. It was the way his large rough hands were so gentle when he rubbed salve into her fingers, and the way he remembered every detail of everything she said and how he was always there... always right there when she needed someone to catch her. It was...
"Oh Gods, no," she whispered to herself and bit her lip nervously. She had been so preoccupied with whether or not he loved her that she had never stopped to consider why it mattered to her. She wasn't hurt and offended simply because the man felt only lust for her. She was crushed because she...
"Absolutely not!" Talia growled and shook her head. She didn't love him! Preposterous! She couldn't! He was a monster, her nemesis, and more of her people had lost their lives under his sword than any other soldier. He had shown her some small amount of kindness and in her fear and loneliness and under extreme duress she had convinced herself that she lo--
No, she wouldn't even think the word, but she had said it, hadn't she? She'd said something about loving him and it had stopped him in his tracks and sent him running to the far north as fast as he could go!
Well, of all things, she should thank him for that! At least he had some sort of conscience not to encourage her in what was obviously a ridiculous delusion.
The door opened again, and an older woman carrying a parcel wrapped in delicate linen entered the room and bowed to her. Talia straightened her back and tried her best to muster her father's noble posture and expression. It was probably pointless anyhow. According to Ilya, the servants had cleaned the smashed dishes from the dining room and probably seen her torn clothes and now it would be said that the Princess was seen wearing nothing but Prince Mikhail's tunic afterwards and that he had abandoned her at a tavern afterwards because she nothing more than a common Vezdan whore.
"This is Krisna, my Princess, a humble servant of the Drail Tavern and a daughter of Vezda," the woman said in a low and soothing voice. "Lord Ilya said you'd need clean clothing. Please accept this dress. It was the best we could find without riding to the next town."
Krisna kneeled down and set the parcel on the couch beside her.
"I am certain it will be... it will be... fine. Thank you,"" Talia said and tried to smile.
Perhaps it was the kindness in the woman's gentle voice, or the familiar Vezdan lilt as she spoke, or the fact that the woman was close in age to Talia's own mother-- or would have been if her mother had lived, but something about the woman's presence was very comforting. So comforting, in fact, that it made her want to cry.
As if she knew Talia's thoughts, the woman cautiously raised her hand and patted Talia's knee lightly.
"We are greatly honored that the Princess of Vezda has come here to our humble tavern. The Princess has been very brave, she has done so much for our people. We wish we could do more for her than this," Krisna said and continued to pat her knee as if comforting her.
Which was strange. Even in Vezda her subjects would not think to lay a hand on her even if they knew her well. Stranger still, the woman's hands looked dirty. There was dirt or-- no, it was paint beneath her fingernails and her fingers were lightly stained blue and red as though she'd hastily washed them before entering.
"You're an artist, not a servant," Talia realized.
"I am, my Princess," the woman quickly agreed, her voice become quieter.
"You own this tavern. You painted Queen Ora," Talia gasped.
"I did, my Princess. She helped me once, when I desperately needed help, and now... perhaps I can repay the favor."