Talia took a deep breath and checked her work for the tenth time.
It was crudely done, the outcome of using the point of a sword instead of a small knife specifically made for the purpose, but that shouldn't matter. The symbols were clear enough, carved shallowy into his pale flesh.
They would be there now, her own marks upon his skin, along with all his others, until his body rotted under the earth. They were a banner of her defiance, a signpost that might lead directly to the end of House Eosin. They were a tangible proof of something Vezda had tried to hide for hundreds of years.
The blood of Eosin had been used to heal this man, they declared.
Already his breathing had gone from rattling gasps to deep and even breaths. The bleeding had stopped from the three stab wounds in his back, and though she could not close them, they did appear to be slighty smaller. However, his color had not returned to him, and she had still to clean and bind the wounds-- infection could set in after a few days, as the blood spell would weaken.
Ilya and the Prince's men were waiting behind the locked outer door. He had promised her no interruptions for at least a half an hour's time, but she could almost feel the anxiety and fear of those men radiating through the walls.
They likely thought Ilya had gone mad, and that their Prince was already dead. She would have to trust Ilya, and later Mikhail, to hide what she'd done.
Perhaps she'd been too hasty. She remembered again the day her mother had died- the bloody clothes on the bed... her labored breathing, and Ora reaching for the knife as Mother weakly shook her head, reminding them all, even as she lay dying that they musn't. They must never use the blood.
Talia dropped the cotton strip she was squeezing, and glanced down to see that the blood continued to seep slowly from the freshly opened cut across her palm. She would have to burn the cloth and the bedsheets when it stopped.
She had broken the law of her House, using the blood, and doing so to save the very man who had killed her father and brother. Though she reminded herself of this fact, she could not bring herself to regret it. Hiding it had not saved any of them, and she could not help but to wonder, if they were never meant to use their gift, what was the point of the years she'd spent on the Holy Island learning about it?
A loud banging on the door tore her from her thoughts as Ilya called out to her:
"Princess! We've brought more bandaging and medicines. Open the door!"
She took one final look at the symbols, and brushed her hand across them again before covering his back with a torn sheet.
Ilya continued banging on the door as Talia climbed down off the bed and crossed the floor, bringing the bloodied sword along with her.
Ilya was probably beginning to doubt his earlier decision- having heard nothing but silence from beyond the door, he had likely allowed his fears to multiply. A half an hour's time had not yet passed.
Talia paused with her hand on the lock and leaned towards the door.
"The Prince lives," she called through it. "He is in a better state now and he rests. He will allow one man, his trusted aide, to enter and confirm this, but that is all. Please stand away from the door."
She listened for the creak of leather and the clink of armor to indicate that they had obeyed before turning the lock. Holding the sword behind her back, she opened the door slightly and looked through. Ilya stood nervously in front of the other men.
"You may enter, Sir Ilya," she allowed, stepping back.
"Sir Ilya, please. Our Prince may require a skilled physician or surgeon even. I must assess-"
"The Princess is a healer who learned her craft at the Temple in Vezda over many years," Ilya reassured Prince Mikhail's physician. "I will see his condition for myself, and decide whether or not her skills are sufficient."
With a curt nod toward the men, Ilya stepped into the room, and Talia closed and bolted the door behind him.
He walked slowly toward the bed, his eyes on Prince Mikhail's form, as Talia snatched the tray of clean bandages and medicine from him.
"He lives," she repeated as they approached, "but it will be some time before he regains his strength and his wounds heal."
Ilya paused at the foot of the bed and watched the rise and fall of the covers as the Prince slept beneath them.
"You did... the... with the blood?" He asked, dropping his voice.
"I did," Talia confirmed.
"But he is...not healed?" Ilya mumbled, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"It is not such a precise thing as science and I have no experience at it!" She snapped. "He was on the verge of death! I am not God, just a distant descendent of his servants. You dare complain when I-"
"I don't complain," Ilya reassured her quickly. "It is only that I have no knowledge of enchantments and the like. I suppose I thought blood magic was more... miraculous," he murmured reaching for the sheet which covered Mikhail's back.
Talia, realizing what he intended to do, slapped his hand away.
"Do not look! It is not for your eyes!" She hissed, readjusting the sheet.
"I must see it. I must know the condition of his wounds," Ilya scowled.
"And I will not allow you to see the marks made by House Eosin," she threatened, stepping in between Ilya and the Prince and raising the sword slightly.
Ilya smirked and shook his head. He raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender.
"Can he speak... can he understand us?" He asked, side-stepping Talia to crouch down beside the bed near to Mikhail's head. He made no further attempt to snatch at the sheet covering him.
"He hasn't regained consciousness yet," Talia admitted, lowering the sword. "He needs rest and when he wakes, hearty foods that are good for blood loss... beef liver, lentils, greens, oysters..."
"We haven't time for all that I'm afraid. Rumors are already flying around the palace," Ilya frowned. "Grieta is being arrested for treason, and many are saying that the Prince was her ally."
"He was attacked because he was suspected of treason?" Talia guessed.
"I don't know. No one does," Ilya admitted. "He was called into the Emperor's chambers and carried away shortly after with grievous wounds."
"His own brother did this?" Talia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "The Emperor attempted to kill him?"
"I would guess he was punishing our Prince for something lesser. It would not be the first time. No, If the Emperor could prove treason, I doubt our Prince would have left the chamber alive- but I am only guessing. I need him to tell me what happened. I will have to do some sort of damage control at court. Give them an official statement or reason for his absence at least... I need to speak to him," Ilya explained.
He placed his hand on Prince Mikhail's shoulder and shook it gently.
"Stop that! It won't do you any good to shake him," Talia snapped. "Like I said, he won't wake for some time yet. He's lost a good deal of blood and is far too weak to-"
She was interrupted by a low groan from Prince Mikhail.
"My Prince... my prince, it is Ilya. Can you hear me?" Ilya asked.
Mikhail groaned again, and Talia could see his long dark eyelashes flutter as he tried and failed to open his eyes.
"My Prince, can you speak? Can you say what happened? Are we in danger? Are we accused of treason along with Grieta? Here, squeeze my hand if you can understand me" Ilya demanded, attempting to slip his hand beneath Mikhail's.
Mikhail's hand curled into a fist, and even though he did not open his eyes, he seemed to scowl.
"Sir... Anton..." Mikhail said in a weak growl.
"Sir Anton from the office of the palace guard?" Ilya repeated. "Did he attack you my Prince? Is he the one-"
"Speak... to him," the Prince muttered haltingly. "There is... a writ... proof..."
"Proof?" Ilya prodded, but the Prince's scowl relaxed as he once again slipped out of conscious thought.
"Sir Anton..." Ilya repeated to himself, and then glanced up at Talia. "Did you see him speak with anyone when you arrived at the palace?"
Talia thought for a minute.
"Yes. The Emperor's steward was waiting for him to return and spoke with him immediately, but I also saw him speak with a soldier. I did not hear what was said, but after they spoke, the soldier ran off like he was being chased," she remembered.
Ilya nodded.
"Very well. I shall see to it that no one will enter this room until I return. Try to keep him comfortable. I shall return soon," Ilya said as he stood.
"I need your help with cleaning him up, and removing his clothes," Talia frowned. "He is too heavy for me to move, and it must be done soon. I am unfamiliar with the herbs used in Unaria as disinfectants, so I will need honey and strong alcohol-"
"Cut his clothes away, and wash him as best you can where he lays. I will bring you alcohol when I return " Ilya replied, as he headed for the door. Talia trailed after him.
"But he... he wouldn't... shouldn't his servant..." she fumbled, trying to find the words to explain her hesitation.
Ilya heaved an exasperated sigh.
"He cant even open his eyes, or string together a coherent sentence. I would wager that at this point, you don't have to worry about his modesty. I will return as soon as I can."
With that, he went out and shut the door.