Second Chance

"My Prince, a messenger bearing the orders of our Emperor Grigori has arrived and would speak with you!" Ilya's voice announced.

Prince Mikhail glanced over his shoulder at the bloodied and exposed body of the princess and then slid the cloth beneath the cot and concealed his injured hand at his side.

"Enter," he growled.

Ilya held the tent open for the messenger and the two came inside. The messenger immediately let out an audible gasp.

"Stars of Torobirk!" Ilya cried. "My Prince, what have you-"

"She lives," Mikhail shrugged, glancing up at the men, his face a practiced study of stoic indifference. "Though perhaps I was rather too enthusiastic in my... exertions"

"Gods," whispered Ilya shaking his head slowly.

The aide's shock and disgust were merely an act. The prince and his aide traded a swift look, unnoticed by the messenger whose eyes were focused only on the bloodied body of the shamefully violated former ruler of Vezda. Ilya saw and understood Mikahil's intent at once.

"M-my Lord..." the messenger addressed him in a shaky voice. His eyes wide as they moved between the body of the Princess and the indifferent Prince of the Empire.

"Get on with it, man. What word from the Emperor?" Mikhail growled.

"Y-yes, my Prince," the man cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from the girl. He slid a leather book stamped with a familiar crest and held it open as he announced" "Emperor Grigori the Third of Unaria to his brother Prince Mikhail, Duke of Bludston, High Commander of the army: Hear these my words and command."

An itch began as usual in the tips of his fingers and then his hands and arms began to tingle. Mikhail scowled at his hands. He wondered if the messenger knew what the words physically did to him. It was likely. The messenger's whole demeanor changed as he read them out.

"We desire a renegotiation of the terms of the Treaty of Fronov. By the 15th clause, a renegotiation suspends the terms of the Treaty but upholds the peace between countries for a period of seven additional days. We desire that you bring Talia of House Eosin, Princess and erstwhile ruler of Vezda, to the palace as our guest, and by the fastest means possible, so that we may redraw the border between our two lands. We further insist that our brother, Prince Mikhail, exert every effort to see that she remains unharmed and in good health."

"Well... poor girl, if only you'd arrived a bit sooner," Ilya clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "My Prince assumed the Emperor was interested only in ending the House of Eosin."

"Be that as it may..." the messenger began and then stopped. He suddenly turned from Ilya to watch the Prince with a confused and suspicious expression. Prince Mikhail was still examining his own hand and scowling at it as though it had somehow offended him.

"My Prince!" Ilya snapped, his eyes widening with an unspoken warning.

"Of course... uh... The Emperor's words are my only will," Mikhail replied, trading yet another prolonged glance with his aide.

The messenger nodded and firmly shut his book.

"The Emperor should be informed, of course," Ilya mumbled. "Princess Talia is not... well at the moment. She may not be able to travel for many days."

"Yes, I shall relay as much to him myself," the messenger frowned, a clear warning that he would immediately tell the Emperor everything which he had witnessed.

"May the wind speed your travel," Ilya bid him farewell.

"How many days will you delay?" the messenger demanded, ignoring Ilya's dismissal.

"Who can say? I am no learned man of medicine, nor is the Prince. By the Emperor's word we are bound to deliver the Princess in good health," Ilya shrugged.

"Yes, and by fastest means possible," the messenger reminded him.

"Three days at most," Mikhail growled. "Perhaps less. If you have no more words from the Emperor to impart, then leave."

"May the wind speed your travel, My Prince," the messenger bowed low at the waist to him.

The moment he left the tent, Mikhail tossed the crumpled blanket over the girl's exposed body.

"This was the best you could come up with?" Ilya hissed, pointing at the form concealed under the bedding. "This was how you thought to save her?"

"The Emperor cannot take a woman defiled by another. It is law," Mikhail shrugged.

"Yes, it is law. Which he writes himself and can change at any time," Ilya reminded him.

"To take a woman still warm from his brother's bed would be disastrous to his rule. The people have not forgotten our mother. Come morning, every man in this camp will know what occurred here tonight. By the time we arrive in the capitol, rumors of what happened to Princess Talia on our journey will spread like fire from house to house. Princess Talia is well known to our people, after all," Mikhail reasoned.

"She will be very angry with you when she wakes," Ilya warned.

"Yes," the Prince nodded.

"And if the Emperor questions her--"

"She was severely injured. Of course she does not remember events clearly," Mikhail lied easily.

"You did not speak at first," Ilya changed the subject abruptly. "I was watching, and you made no immediate reply to the Emperor's order this time."

"Yes," Mikhail nodded again.

"Does that mean--"

"I am not sure," Mikhail answered before Ilya could finish his question. "I felt it. I surely felt it, and yet the need to answer... the compulsion that forces my mouth to move, even when my heart and head dissent-- it was... weaker, perhaps?"

The Prince scowled again at his hand, flexing it several times as he carefully observed his own movements.

"But she is not the first-born of the daughters of Eosin," Ilya reminded him.

"No," Mikhail agreed. "But this is the third time I've experienced it, and it is always when it concerns that girl, not the other."

"Odd," Ilya frowned.

"Indeed. Go now, bring me water and fresh cloth, and find clothing for her. There should be a lady's dress among the bedding packs," he said, finally turning his gaze back to the Princess. "I had not intended for this to occur, but we may still turn the situation to our advantage."

As he turned to exit the tent, Ilya paused and looked back over his shoulder. The Prince was on his knees beside the cot, bent over the girl's lifeless form with one hand curled protectively above, but not touching, her head. Turn it to YOUR advantage, he corrected the Prince's words in his head.

In the Kingdom of Vezda, the Temple taught that death was not final. If you had lived a life of service to your family and neighbors, if you gave freely and with joy, if you were harder on yourself than those around you, you would close your eyes for the final time in Vezda and open them in Alulia, the Land of Eternal Light. If you fell short of living a noble life, you would be born in Vezda again and allowed another chance.

However, the House of Eosin had always told their children a different story. They were, after all, descended from the ancient ones, the angels from over the ocean, who had long ago come to Vezda with their great powers and greater beauty and had taught the people about music and art and how to gather knowledge and place it in books. They lived in peace with the people of Vezda for hundreds of years until the demons came down frown the mountains and made war with them. The ancient ones were defeated and sailed away to return to their home in Alulia. All of them but one... Eosin the Great, who could not leave the people of Vezda for he loved them so.

Since those days, the line of Eosin the Great had ruled Vezda, and it was said, that when those in the House of Eosin closed their eyes for the last time, the spirit servants of the ancient ones would fly at once to their side to carry their souls across the ocean to Alulia. If you had been a wise and just ruler who loved their people, you were carried into the Great Hall in Alulia to sit on a throne beside your ancestors, but if you were not, the servant tossed your soul into the great pit at the edge of the Land of Eternal Light. A ruler was given no second chance.

Princess Talia, the last ruler of the House of Eosin, fully expected to open her eyes in Alulia and see her Father and Brother at once. What she did not expect was the cold.

Her entire body felt as though it were freezing, and she could not even move to wrap her arms around herself. It was very unpleasant and dark wherever she was, and even in her misery, she feared that she had somehow unknowingly failed her people. Perhaps she'd already been tossed into the pit beyond the Land of Eternal Light. Perhaps this was now her eternity. She'd always feared the dark and had only learned to hide it better when she grew older. Panic overtook her reasoning. She wanted to scream. She wanted to struggle, to cry, to fight, to do anything at all, but she could not even move.

It may have been a day, or a month, or a thousand years, but at last she heard something. It was a whisper-- the whisper of a deep and soothing voice-- and though she could not make out the words, it was enough comfort that she was not alone in the dark.

The harder she listened, the more she could make out the words. She heard her own name and the order to be still. She wanted to tell the voice that she was very cold and afraid, but she could not draw the air to speak. It was a man's voice, too deep to be her Father's or Oleg's, and yet something about it was familiar, someone from her childhood.

And then she was warm! Comfortably warm, for she had been lifted up and wrapped round, and carried. She was being carried in the dark, and she knew that finally, FINALLY, the spirit servant of the ancient ones had found her. Perhaps it took long for she had travelled far from Vezda and the seashore.

The spirit was surprisingly strong and large. As a child, she had often pictured the servants as ghosts from the stories, see-through, and insubstantial-- mere whisps. This spirit was as solid as stone, a statue come to life, but warm like a human, perhaps warmer, for she was very comfortable in its arms, drowsy even. Though she could not see him in the dark, she could still hear him whisper from time to time, and the words she could understand were intentions to soothe and comfort her.

Talia wanted to ask if it was far to Alulia. She wanted to ask if Oleg would be waiting, and she tried many times to open her mouth and speak to him, but all that came out was a light moan. The spirit servant would lightly touch her lips at such times, as though telling her not to try and speak, and so at last, she gave up and nestled closer to the servant's warm chest and fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.