Ilya hit the ground hard, groaning in pain beside the bed. The two were clearly experiencing the same pains at the same time.
Talia clutched her towel tightly to herself and glanced around the room. The serum she'd made had not worked for very long at all. Already, the pain was beginning for Prince Mikhail, and she had no way of knowing how severe it would become.
She remembered her childhood training as a healer serving behind battle lines and searched quickly for alcohol. There were shelves behind his tapestries from which he'd taken the bottle of Vezdan wine earlier, and she hurried to the wall to pull back the heavy curtain.
Because it was impossible to ascertain what each bottle held simply by looking at it, Talia began to uncork each and smell it. Finding the hardest spirits by taste, Talia hurried back to the bed.
Still doubled over on the floor, Ilya reached out and snatched her bare ankle, preventing her from approaching any closer.
"Get her out of here!" Mikhail roared.
"Drink it, please. It should dull the pain somewhat," she pleaded.
She held the bottle out and reached for him, meaning to help him up, but Mikhail knocked the bottle from her hands, smashing it on the floor.
Of course he wouldn't trust her now, or take anything she offered him. However, there was something else she could do. Something she'd never done before, even during the war, because it was forbidden.
She turned her hand over quickly, studying the plaster she'd carefully applied to the wound she'd made earlier. It had gotten wet and the blood was seeping through.
For hundreds of years, no member of House Eosin had performed blood magic in front of an outsider. Even on the Holy Island, she'd only been told stories and taught theories. The blood should never be used if there was any chance at all of discovery, even to save your own life.
In the long ago days of Queen Tasha, kingdoms would go to war both with Vezda and one another, any time a daughter of House Eosin reached the age of marriage. Although the stories told these days spoke of Queen Tasha's great beauty driving men to fight and kill each other for the chance to win her hand, the truth was, every one of them wanted to aquire the power of Eosin's blood.
Women of the royal house who married outside of Vezda generally led short and miserable lives.
Only by remaining small, removing itself from world politics, refusing trade partnerships and allies, and passing laws to keep the blood of Eosin well behind Vezda's borders, had their line managed to survive. The truth of House Eosin's abilities weren't even told in stories anymore, and that had taken many generations for her family to achieve.
For hundreds of years, House Eosin and Vezda itself had survived among larger and more powerful rulers and countries simply by remaining small, remote, and quiet.
The news of Ora's marriage to the Emperor of Unaria had shocked everyone, but it had surprised and terrified her more than anyone else because Ora had broken the law. Ora never broke laws. She was the one who taught them to Talia, explaining how it kept their line and blood safe. Because of that, Talia had never really believed that Ora chose to marry the Emperor willingly.
And now, she found herself considering breaking a law held sacred by House Eosin for hundreds of years. She could save Prince Mikhail from death, perhaps even spare him a great deal of pain, but it would require a spell she could not perform in secret by herself.
Yet what was the point of hiding it from the Prince when he knew already what her blood was capable of? The royal family of Unaria had apparently long been allied with the ancient ones and learned the secret of Eosin's blood from them.
Besides, what was she supposed to protect with such meaningless secrecy now? She was all that was left of House Eosin.
Still, a lifetime of repeating the rules and then swearing on her family name to abide by them, kept her frozen. There had been too many horrible occasions during the war and the starving times where she had desperately wanted to use the blood but stayed her hand because of the family vow. The guilt of those encounters when she did nothing, was something she would carry with her until death, just as her brother and sister did.
She had not broken her vow to save her allies. How could she consider doing so for her enemy?
Prince Mikhail writhed in pain before her, gritting his teeth to keep from screaming. His skin was deathly white, drained of all color, and with every jerky movement he made, her own stomach clenched uncomfortably.
Her enemy... Talia reminded herself. Her enemy... whom she'd hesitated to harm because she couldn't bear to imagine the scene before her now. Her enemy, who had lived a torturous existence under the Emperor. Her enemy, who seemed always to show up when she needed someone. Her enemy, who had saved her life more than once. Her enemy, whose arms she had fallen into only moments ago and who had almost driven the idea of poisoning him right from her mind with his passionate kiss.
Her enemy had long since ceased to be her enemy, and for the first time, she was forced to admit it to herself.
She, who had lost everyone who she had ever loved. or who who had ever been important to her in any way, did not want to lose this man as well.
Picking at the plaster on her hand, she ripped her leg free of Ilya's grasp. The Prince's servant lunged covering Mikhail with his own body.
"Stand aside!" she ordered, already decided on what she must do.
"Ilya!" Mikhail panted. "Do as I say, get her out of here!"
Ilya, in no condition to drag even her small form away, ripped the blanket up and covered the Prince with it.
"Guards!" he shouted. "Guards, enter now!"
Immediately, the door burst open and four knights wearing the Bludston colors marched into the room.
"Our Prince is unwell. See to it that the Princess is confined to separate quarters until he is well enough to send for her," he ordered in a shaky voice.
"NO!" Talia shouted, grabbing Ilya by the arm as she tried frantically to pull him away from the Prince. "No, not yet! I can help! I can fix this. I can--"
"You've done enough!" Ilya shouted, his voice breaking. "You've done enough, haven't you? All he's ever done is protect you, but at every turn, at every opportunity, you're always there with another knife to stab into his back! Vile creature!"
Talia froze at the unfamiliar tone of bitterness and hatred in Ilya's voice. A metal clad hand clamped down on her shoulder and yanked her roughly back.
"No, please! Prince Mikhail, please. I didn't want-- I don't-want you to- Please, Mikhail, I can heal this!" she cried as she was dragged away.
There was no response from the Prince and even Ilya turned his face from her in disgust.
She struggled against the knights as hard as she could, but it was hopeless. She could not even manage to loosen their grip on her.
By the time they reached the outer hallway, another knight approached to cover her with a robe, and held her tightly from the other side. She stopped fighting entirely, sagging in defeat as they escorted her firmly from the Prince's rooms.
She was deposited in another room not far from Prince's apartment, and heard the swish and thud of a heavy bolt on the outer door.
She was a prisoner after all, that much had not changed.
Yet the room was comfortable and well-appointed with a large bed and ornate wardrobe.
Talia went to the window at once, and determined that there was no balcony, and that it was too far from the ground to jump. She opened the wardrobe next and found it empty.
Pacing, she began to consider her options. She could rip up the sheets and braid a rope! That sort of thing worked in stories all the time. She lifted the cover and gripped the bedsheets firmly in both hands. It refused to give way. It was obviously made of much stronger stuff than storybook sheets.
Perhaps if she had something sharp to tear or cut it with.
Glancing around wildly at the empty bedroom her eyes fell on the window. Without even a moment's consideration, she picked up the heavy bedside candelabra and swung it at the window.
The glass shattered and fell to the ground leaving a few jagged shards still attached to the frame. Talia worked one free and immediately began to rub it across the sheet.
It was tedious work. fraying a few of the fibers with every sweep.
Seconds turned into minutes and minutes hours as she labored to cut the sheet into long strips. The room had long since grown cold, but she did not notice her own shivering.
Her hands cramped up and hurt terribly, but it wasn't until she saw her own blood running down the glass shard and staining the fabric that she was forced to stop. The glass had worked it's way through the plaster and cut her hand a second time.
Talia slid to the floor and stared at her bleeding hand. It wasn't going to work. She'd been at it for hours and hadn't even started braiding the rope... it didn't seem there would be enough material to make one long enough anyhow, and even if there was, she would still have to fight her way through the guards at his door without a weapon.
She swiped at her cheek, thinking it odd that she could sweat when the room was so cold but realized that the wetness was tears. She was crying.
Ilya's words still echoed in her ears: Vile creature! Always stabbing Mikhail in the back. It was true, and what had she even gained with her serum? The knowledge that the Emperor was in league with the ancient ones? Her father had suspected it long ago. That Ora had never been buried but given to those horrible creatures as a sacrifice? She was long dead by now, and there was nothing she could do with that knowledge. That Prince Mikhail had killed his own mother under compulsion from the Emperor? She hadn't even wanted to know that!
She'd been so certain it was necessary only a few short hours ago, but now... she remembered Prince Mikhail's pale face- his eyes rolled back in his head as his body convulsed. Even worse, perhaps, was when he'd spoken of his mother... and admitted the pain he already lived every day of his life. She had stabbed a man already bleeding on the ground, and gained nothing from it.
She was a vile creature. If she hadn't of been so angry about being poisoned and so suspicious of his motives, she probably would have realized it wasn't worth the risk.
No. Even that was a lie.
He had done things to her and to her body that had made her feel things she'd never felt before. She had melted at his touch, longing for it, making herself vulnerable to him in a way she never had to anyone before, and he'd used that intimacy to poison her. She had wanted to hurt him in the same way that he had hurt her.
If he died by her hand... she stopped herself from thinking it. He couldn't. He'd thwarted every attempt she'd ever made on his life. She almost took it for granted that he couldn't be killed. He was strong. He was very strong.
"Please..." Talia whispered, bowing her head. Perhaps somewhere, there was a God with more mercy in their heart than she had in hers. "Please, don't let him die."