For a moment, no... perhaps less... she thought to say 'yes'. She wanted to. It was on the tip of her tongue. It was mortifying to admit, even to herself, but she wanted to, and yet...
and yet...
This was for the future of Vezda. This was for the survival of her people. This was her duty as the last member of House Eosin. She had to make her decision carefully and without sentiment or her own desires.
There was something off about Prince Mikhail's proposal. He was a taciturn and unfeeling man by nature, and to have suddenly said so much, and so well- and there was something in his voice and behind his eyes that she had never remembered seeing there before. Was it desperation, or perhaps fear?
He spoke like a man in love without saying the word itself one time. He had never said the word 'love' in all the time that she'd known him, just as he never called her by her name.
This was not a proposal of love, which he was trying very hard to convince her of. He was still hiding his true motive.
"I will consider it," she said at last, pulling her hand from his grip.
For a moment, the Prince continued to kneel, and once again, he pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly. When he finally stood, Talia felt every muscle in her body tense. He towered over her, but she lifted her chin to stare back at him, determined that he should not see her intimidated.
"Then let me give you more to consider," he whispered, reaching for her again.
"Who was the girl that came out of this room before you opened the door?" she asked quickly, glaring at his raised hand.
"A servant," he said, pausing to consider her for a moment.
"One of your servants?"
"No... a... she belongs to an acquaintance," he answered slowly. "She was... delivering something I had asked for."
"What? What did she deliver?" Talia asked, determined to catch him in at least one lie.
"A bottle of wine," he answered calmly.
"I don't see a bottle," she frowned.
Prince Mikhail considered her in silence for a moment and then crossed the room to pull back a tapestry, revealing shelves set into the wall. She could see several books from where she stood and a few bottles.
He lifted a small green bottle and brought it to her, holding the label out for her to read.
"Vezdan," he mumbled. "It's Vezdan wine. You seemed to enjoy it so much..."
Talia heaved a frustrated sigh. She had not noticed the girl carrying anything. He probably had the bottle already, not that she could prove it.
He set the bottle down and went back to the shelves, returning with two glasses.
"It must have concerned you for you to ask," he said quietly, popping the cork from the bottle and pouring the pink, bubbling liquid into the glasses. "You must have thought-"
"I had no thoughts on the matter. It was simply curiosity," she snapped, realizing that he thought her to be jealous.
"Mmm," he nodded, holding a glass out to her.
She shook her head, refusing to take it.
"What of that other woman you were supposed to marry?" she asked. "The one Ilya spoke of."
"A man cannot marry twice in six months' time, not even a Prince of the Empire," he answered, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
Talia eyed him warily.
"She'll be disappointed to have to wait six months," she said lightly. "I wonder... how many wives will you have?"
The Prince frowned and studied the glass of wine in his hand.
"You said you'd give me more to consider, didn't you? How many do you suppose?" Talia demanded.
"Far fewer than the Emperor," he answered at last. "And you would have the highest position among them- which the Emperor would not give you."
"Yes... top harem girl... an honor indeed," she agreed snidely.
"Princess of the Empire," he corrected her calmly.
"Surely the girls in the Imperial brothel won't have to wait six months for your attentions," she scoffed, and then immediately winced at her own words.
How many pointed comments had she made about his brothel visits in one conversation? Certainly, it was far too many. Anyone would think-
"They might wait forever. A jealous wife, proficient with daggers, is a strong deterrent," he said mildly.
"Prince Mikhail, I truly do not care how many wives or concubines you take," Talia said quickly. "Perhaps I should be more straightforward with you because you do not take my meaning correctly. I've asked you to tell me what you want from me in exchange for my hand, but instead, you attempt to lie to me and feign a deep affection and appeal to my feelings. It will not get you the outcome you desire. You must understand that to a Vezdan-- we who are taught that fidelity is a cornerstone of romantic love-- your words ring hollow. Even if you had meant them, it would be the same. You would do better to speak openly of your strategy instead of attempting to engage in flattery."
"I suppose my bridge is too weak to withstand such hurling of stones," he mumbled.
"Indeed. Your bridge is too quickly constructed and too poorly made. It would crumble even without an attack," she chuckled. "The fact that you ran as far from me as you could the moment I drunkenly mentioned the word 'love', and then, the very instant I have an ally and other possible offers, you race back and have volumes to say on the subject. I am not so foolish as you think."
The Prince nodded his head slowly. He stared at the glass of wine in his hand with eyes that did not appear to even see it. Talia wondered what he was considering, for he seemed to be deep in thought.
He laughed, and Talia flinched. She could not remember him ever laughing before, and now she understood why. His laughter sounded unnatural, pained even.
"Very well, Princess. There is something I want, but I find it difficult to discuss. I had hoped that you would guess it eventually, but we appear to be running out of time. What do you think I would need so desperately from a daughter of House Eosin that I would go so far to keep you at my side?" he asked, once again staring at her with such intensity in his dark eyes that she felt as if he was looking right into her soul.
Talia took a deep breath and glanced down at his chest and then to his arms, where the dark curling lines of ancient text overlapped older scars.
"Your marks..." she murmured. "It's blood magic, isn't it?"
"How long have you known?" he asked.
Talia shrugged and took a step closer to him, inspecting the ink that marked him.
"I've suspected since I was a child. When I first entered the Holy Island to train, the word 'loyalty' was carved above the door of the inner sanctum in the ancient script. I remembered seeing that word inked across your shoulder, and I later learned about the old blood magic-- the blood oaths that were done in the old days. I thought it very strange that Unarians knew the magic for blood oaths, when even we haven't practiced such ancient magic for at least a hundred years, but your marks... I know now that they're different from what I learned... warped somehow."
He nodded and held out his arm, motioning for her to come closer. Talia bent to examine the ink and frowned.
"You can't talk about them, can you? If you try you feel the pain of death. I know some of the words. That there," she muttered, tracing the line across his chest with one finger, "is the word for loyalty, and that word means pain. This one... well, I don't recognize this one... but this bit here means 'bound'. It's very odd."
"Odd?" he repeated, wincing at the sharp warning pains that were beginning to shoot through his body.
Talia paused, her finger still upon his chest and glanced up at him.
"Yes, odd. Blood oaths are made for only two reasons. The first reason is to bind two or more people to secrecy. If someone tells the secret, they die. The second reason is if two people make a promise to one another. If one of them breaks the promise, they die. Your marks, however, don't appear to work that way. It was what Ilya said at the tavern that made me realize it. He showed the marks and said something about serving different masters. There is no master in a blood oath. For a blood oath to work, all parties have to agree to the same consequences," Talia explained as she prodded at the scar tissue beneath the ink.
Prince Mikhail looked as if he would speak, but pressed his lips together and closed his eyes.
"These scars... they look like words as well... as if there were words cut into your flesh and then healed, and then inked... it was your brother wasn't it? The Emperor did this to you. It's why you can't say anything about Ora, isn't it?"
Mikhail winced again, but nodded his head very slightly.
"But looking at it now... if this word here means what I think it does... I think it's more than just a spell to make you keep his secrets. He's found a way to bind you to him, and make you serve him. Is that it?" she asked, tracing the words again with her finger as she studied them.
Mikhail groaned slightly and closed his eyes again.
"I'm sorry. You're in pain, aren't you?" she asked gently.
He nodded slowly.
"All this time, you've been a slave as well," she whispered and shook her head.
"I... want..." he said through clenched teeth.
"Sssh..." Talia soothed. "I know now. You don't have to suffer to say it. You want me to find a way to break the blood bond between you and the Emperor. I wish I'd realized it before."
"Can... you..."
"I don't know. House Eosin still teaches their children the ancient blood magic, though I've never seen something like this before. Still... it might be possible, but if I can... if I can break the bond that keeps you tied to the Emperor..." Talia glanced up again, meeting his eye. "What would you do?"