Mikhail entered the court and found his place only moments before the Princess was due to be announced.
The Emperor had ignored his request to change the time of her audience, and Mikhail had spent a tense few hours watching the Princess for any sign of illness.
However, even after he began to feel the start of symptoms- an unsettled stomach and an uncomfortable warmth-- the Princess continued to prepare herself as if nothing were amiss.
When she was announced and the doors were opened, he noticed that several heads turned in his direction, as if curious to see his reaction, and he allowed himself a faint smile. The rumors were beginning to spread.
The last time the Princess had entered the Court, she had staggered in, still reeling from the effects of poison, filthy and bedraggled, her borrowed dress stained with blood and vomit.
Today, she strode through the doors with all the grace and confidence of a ruling queen. Her sheer, Vezdan style, embroidered gown, drew whispers of envy from the noble ladies, and the way the material clung to every curve of that small body drew far too many desirous looks for his comfort.
Of course, his discomfort was likely due to the effects of the herb, which had begun to grow more pronounced. His stomach was twisting in agony now, and he could feel the drops of sweat starting to form on his forehead.
Though he watched the Princess intently, she gave no sign of being affected. She stopped a few feet from the throne, and though, once again, she did not kneel, she did politely decline her head.
"Princess Talia of House Eosin, ruler of Vezda, greets Emperor Grigori, sun of the Empire, ruler of Unaria," she intoned.
Two mistakes, Mikhail noted to himself. She should have knelt while addressing him, and she referred to herself as ruler of Vezda instead of former ruler. The Emperor could see either one as a challenge to his authority.
He glanced to his brother, who sat crownless on his throne, his bad foot resting on a golden stool, and saw the Emperor was studying her carefully. His face gave none of his thoughts away.
"We are pleased to see the relative of our beloved wife looking so well," the Emperor returned her greeting.
Though his tone was bright and friendly, the words were something of an insult- reminding one and all how she had first arrived in Unaria. Mikhail winced, knowing well the Princess's penchant for making sharp retorts.
"Yes. I've had many months now to grow accustomed to your unique Unarian hospitality," the Princess smiled kindly and bowed her head again, though many sitting closely exchanged glances and stifled small gasps.
It was cleverly done, Mikhail decided. She might have been referring to her mistreatment in captivity, or she might be making a polite off-hand remark. Either way, she had immediately touched on the reason for her audience without making an accusation or dismissing it.
Even in his miserable and sickened state, Mikhail felt a small surge of pride. The Emperor, skilled in rhetoric, and at saying one thing while meaning another, had met his match in that small, slight figure. She was a great deal like Queen Ora.
"We hope that you have not been too uncomfortable," the Emperor frowned. "You have probably learned by now that you were sent away from the capitol to reside at Bludston due to some instability caused by a few minor dissidents. However, our royal brother was given strict instruction to treat you with the care shown to all foreign dignitaries in Unaria."
Mikhail stiffened and kept his gaze fixed on the Princess. So that was his brother's defense. If the Princess was mistreated, then it was not at the Emperor's hands or by his order. It did not surprise him. He was the Emperor's shadow, moon of the Empire, the dog who did the dirty work so that the Emperor's hands stayed clean. Such reason would be accepted by the citizens, but not by the council. The Emperor surely knew it as well.
"Indeed," the Princess remarked in a flat monotone, tilting her head to one side. She could have been agreeing that she was well-treated or questioning the Emperor's word.
Mikhail could feel that he was sweating in earnest now. The floor of the court seemed to tilt unevenly as if it were the deck of the ship and not solid marble upon hard earth.
The Princess, however, stood solid, her face a stoic mask of indifference. For the herb to affect him so strongly while not bothering her in the least, he could only assume she had thrown up earlier when she first mentioned feeling unwell.
He cursed inwardly at losing the opportunity to generate rumors by causing her to display visible symptoms of pregnancy before the court. He would find another opportunity, but until then, it would be his own life in danger should the Emperor decide to offer her a marriage deal.
"We are pleased to see the Princess in such fine health and temper," the Emperor smirked. "However, it has come time for us to speak of renegotiating the Treaty of Fronov. It is our sincere desire that the Princess not be made to forfeit her life in order to aid the citizens of Vezda. They are, after all, a territory under the wing of the Empire now. Surely, we may find more agreeable terms in order to continue our aid."
"Your majesty must be aware that very little aid has so far reached Vezdan hands, as I learned almost the moment I arrived in the capitol," Talia answered.
"Lies!" the Emperor snapped, color rising in his cheeks.
The guards standing on either side of the platform stiffened, as though awaiting a command.
The Princess did not so much as wince. After a tense moment, she raised her hand to rest it gently against her stomach. The gesture was slow and almost unconsciously done. Likely, only the Emperor and Prince Mikhail attributed anything to it.
The Emperor leaned back and cleared his throat.
"We are distressed to learn that the Princess has been fed false information by our enemies. However, we understand the Princess's concern for her people. It is a concern that we share, and at a later time, we invite the Princess to review our shipment logs for herself," the Emperor generously allowed.
Mikhail heard the note of warning in his brother's voice. This was not a subject he was willing to discuss before the court.
The Princess frowned but nodded her head slightly, her hand still resting against her stomach. She looked terribly pale.
Prince Mikhail leaned forward in his seat, watching her intently. She was ill! She was hiding it well, but her face was losing color even as she stood before the court, and now, her hand trembled slightly.
If her symptoms were anything like his own, it was nothing short of a miracle that she was still standing at all!
"Then I... I shall... look forward to an invitation from the office of your chamberlain," she said, faltering slightly as she spoke.
"More importantly, we invite the Princess to a private discussion concerning the treaty tomorrow morning," the Emperor gave a polite order.
"A private audience, your majesty? Will your advisors attend?" Talia asked.
"My head of foreign diplomacy and head cartographer will, of course, be in attendance, as will a royal scribe," the Emperor answered, eyeing the Princess suspiciously.
"And will I be allowed my advisors as well?" the Princess asked lightly.
Mikhail could not suppress his smirk at her words. She knew well enough that the Emperor would not wait for her people to be summoned and arrive from Vezda. She was merely pointing out to the court the lack of equity in the arrangement.
The Emperor glared at her, but was careful to paste a tolerant smile across his face.
"If the Princess fears our advisors will give Unaria an unfair advantage at the negotiating table, then perhaps--"
The Princess staggered back a step, unsteady on her feet. She caught herself quickly, locking her knees and standing straight again, but even the Emperor noticed as he stopped speaking and gazed curiously at her.
"Are you unwell, Princess Talia?" the Emperor asked.
"No... I... your majesty, if you would..."
The Princess covered her mouth and closed her eyes, attempting to compose herself.
Around him, heads turned to one another and whispers grew in the fertile silence.
"F-forgive me, your majesty, perhaps... perhaps I do feel a bit weak today. Pay it no mind," the Princess said, her voice trembling with the effort to speak over the hum of lowered tongues.
Mikhail signaled a servant and whispered the command to fetch the royal physician just loud enough for those seated around him to hear.
"Nonsense, Princess," the Emperor scowled, "you shall return to your rooms at once. We will continue our discussion when you are better rested. You are only just arrived and have, from what we understand, suffered many difficulties in your journey here. Of course you would be weak and tired from such an exertion. You are dismissed from our presence with the understanding that we shall speak again soon," the Emperor commanded, signaling to one of his men.
Mikhail partially rose from his seat, as though he were so greatly concerned for the Princess that he would cross the floor to escort her himself, even though the Emperor's guard had already stepped forward. Many people noticed.
The Emperor was attempting to cut short his carefully orchestrated performance, and assign her symptoms to fatigue. He did not want rumors of her pregnancy to spread.
"As you say, your majesty," the Princess responded. She bent to offer him a respectful bow, and before she could rise again, fell to the floor unconcious.