A fresh blood stain remained where the Princess's hand had been.
His embarassment immediately forgotten, Mikhail lunged forward and caught her wrist, startling her.
When he turned her hand over, he could clearly see the remains of an old plaster, and a fresh wound that was still bleeding.
"What have you done?" He demanded.
"That... it wasn't on purpose... I wasn't doing any sort of spell or anything. It was an accident... I was using a piece of glass to-"
"A piece of glass?" He asked, incredulous.
"Yes, I didn't have anything sharp, so I broke a window and then-"
Mikhail shook his head as the Princess explained that she had tried to escape by making a rope from the bed sheets, so that she could return to heal him.
Reading between the lines, he realized that she had passed the night in a freezing cold bedroom with almost no clothing. Her raw voice and large, wild eyes suggested that she'd had no sleep. It would be a wonder if she did not take ill.
"... but then Ilya came and he told me that you had survived, and I was... relieved. Greatly relieved," she admitted.
Mikhail gritted his teeth beneath a stoic expression.
So it was Ilya who had brought the Princess to his room. Had Ilya brought her even a few moments sooner, he would have been in a very awkward and embarassing predicament-- which was obviously Ilya's intent. He had miscalculated how upset his aide had been over his refusal to involve the Princess further.
Though what Ilya hoped to accomplish by exposing his master's activities to the girl, Mikhail could not guess. The Princess would likely have been disgusted and upset upon witnessing such a thing-- which did not bode well for either him or Ilya.
Mikhail stood and went to his bed, ripping the blanket from it. The Princess followed him, still rambling almost incoherently. When he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, she stopped and looked up at him annoyed.
"Are you even listening to me?" She demanded, scowling.
"We should call a physician to see to your hand," he mumbled, more to himself than to her, "and you need rest."
The Princess ripped her arm away and took a step back.
"Please just listen to me!" She insisted.
"We will speak when you've rested and-"
"We will speak now!" She interrupted. "I believe that there have too many misunderstandings between us. We've wasted a great deal of time already. I always wondered what you said to Ora, what it was that convinced her to go with you to Unaria in the first place. I thought that you had tricked her-- that you had lured her to captivity in the Empire and to her death with false promises. I was afraid of you. I was afraid that if someone as wise and careful as Ora... if even she could fall for your words, and your promises, than someone like me who is not her equal..." The Princess paused, and scowled at the floor. "I couldn't afford to give you even the smallest gap. I couldn't allow myself to trust you for even a moment. And every time I found myself softening toward you... wanting... wanting to... well, it frightened me. I would get so angry at myself for being weak.
"Princess, please-" Mikhail muttered.
"No, listen to me. You didn't lie to Ora, did you? She knew about the Emperor, didn't she? She knew about the ancient ones, and she knew that the only chance Vezda had was for the Empire to crumble from within. That's why she chose to leave Vezda, isn't it? I understand now, Prince Mikhail."
The Princess looked up at him with wide imploring eyes, bright with hope and glistening with unshed tears.
Mikhail pressed his lips together. Revolution wasn't the only reason Queen Ora had gone to Unaria. The Queen was a realist first and foremost. She knew her chances of undermining and defeating the Emperor were slim from the beginning-- but the Princess should never know the truth. He had already failed Queen Ora in every way imaginable, but not in this.
"I know now... that she trusted you... that she believed whatever it was you told her back then to get her to marry the Emperor. Will you tell me the truth now? You didnt lie to her, did you? You did not betray her." The Princess's hoarse voice dropped to almost a whisper as she asked.
What else could he answer, but what those beautiful, sad, imploring eyes were begging him to say?
"No," he murmured.
"I knew it," she whispered. "And I know you can't talk about her or how she died, or even what she was involved in because of your marks, but we're going to fix that. I don't now how exactly, but I know it can be done, it must. I can take Ora's place! I can be the one who-"
"NO!" He almost shouted, as the horrible image of her twisted and mutilated body appeared in his mind at her words.
Startled, the Princess froze, and then frowned.
"I... I didn't mean that I would marry the Emperor," she explained slowly. "I will marry you, but that will still give me some influence, and then you can introduce me to Ora's contacts. I've already met some people who-"
"No," he cut her off abruptly. "No, you will not take Queen Ora's place. You will not. You will marry me, send what aid you desire to Vezda, and when the time comes, you will be removed to Frem."
"To... Frem?" She repeated, her voice rising in pitch as her face flushed in anger. The blanket slipped from her shoulders as she stepped toward him. "Frem again! I thought you'd given up on such ridiculous-"
"No. You will go to Frem where you will live the rest of your days in comfort, and above all safety, but right now, you need rest, and... proper clothing," Mikhail explained calmly, careful to keep his eyes away from the plunging neckline of her ill-fitting robe.
"I will never, so long as I live, run and hide from the Emperor of Unaria! I will never leave my people with no one to stand between them and the greedy, grasping claws of your Empire! If you will not be my ally than I will find others. Why should I go to Frem when the King of Blackside travels here, even as we speak, to defend me?" She demanded, lifting her chin defiantly.
"To defend you?" Mikhail smirked. "Yes, I'm sure that the King of Blackside would take such risks simply because he values justice and his friendship with House Eosin so very much."
"What do you mean by that?" She growled.
"He obviously wants something from you," Mikhail frowned.
"Do you think that shocks or surprises me?" She scoffed. "I am the Princess of Vezda, daughter of House Eosin, everyone who approaches me wants something. Perhaps I won't need to marry you after all. Perhaps, I will take my chances with Blackside."
The Princess turned her back to him and began to walk toward the door.
Mikhail felt his frustration give way to anger at the confident stomp of her bare feet as she walked away from him.
As Ilya said, he should have indeed dropped her into the deepest pit in Unaria and left her there until she could be sent away! Did she really think she could stand up against the Emperor, the ancient ones, the entire Empire of Unaria, and an army of grotesque monsters with just that small body and arrogant tongue? Did she think the magic tricks she could do with her blood were comparable to the power of creatures who had lived for a thousand years or more?
It was taking everything he had not to run after her and snatch her up. She would fight him of, of course, but it would not be difficult to restrain her. He could force her to lay down, cover her pale, cold body with blankets and then smother her mouth with his hand until she passed out and slept. Then he could clean and bandage her hand, and sit beside her, watching over her for hours until the color returned to her cheeks and the darkness faded from beneath her eyes.
She would hate him even more when she woke, but at least...
Mikhail sighed heavily. His tongue had been locked by a curse for so long, that he no longer even bothered to use it to discuss things that were not forbidden.
It didn't matter with others. His men appreciated his succinct orders. His servants leapt to do his bidding the moment he snapped his fingers, and even Ilya, whom he spoke to more than any other person, knew his thoughts simply by reading his face.
The Princess, however, was offended by his brevity. Sometimes it seemed as if she picked fights with him simply to frustrate him into speaking more. When he told her to do something, she would automatically do the opposite, and yet if he simply forced her, she became even angrier.
"Where are you going?" He asked calmly.
"Back to the bedroom you locked me in earlier!" She snapped, not bothering to glance back at him.
"You broke the window and destroyed the bedding," he reminded her. "Do you intend to freeze yourself to death in protest?"
"I intend to go as far away from you as I can!" She cried, whirling to face him at last.
"Then I will leave, if you lay down here, cover yourself and try to rest," he offered.
The Princess studied him for a moment, her expression still angry. She was looking for a reason to refuse him, no doubt, but he was trying very hard not to give her one. He dropped his gaze to the floor, so that even his expression would not offend her.
"You will leave?" She repeated slowly.
He nodded.
"If you lie down," he reminded her.
"Why do you... why do you care so much about my safety, my well-being, if you don't even want me for an ally?"
"I owe you a debt for saving my life-"
"Sir Aron has saved my life on the battlefield more times than I can count, and yet I never felt the need to demand that he sleeps when he looks tired, or to ship him off to the Holy Island whenever there was danger," she reasoned.
"I owe a debt to Queen Ora as well," he muttered, not daring to raise his eyes to meet hers.
"And that is how you pay it? Fussing over me like a nanny? No, I don't believe that either," the Princess scoffed.
Having run out of answers, Mikhail pressed his lips together and stood silent, staring defiantly at the floor beneath her feet.
"Always doing that... still, after all these years. Looks like you're trying to swallow your feelings," she mumbled.
"And you still hide your fear with sharp words and over-confidence," he answered quickly.
He finally glanced up to see if his ill-considerd words had agitated her, and immediately regretted it.
Her eyes looked even larger because of the dark shadows beneath them, and though her face wore no expression, he could plainly see the misery and hurt she normally tried to hide in them. His gut twisted painfully.