Queen Tasha (3)

"Princess?" he whispered.

The girl gave no reply, her head lay heavy against his arm. One decent-sized bump in the road and she would pitch forward.

Prince Mikhail slowly slipped his arm behind her and wrapped it around her waist, carefully pulling her under his cloak and against his side.

Her body felt cold, but she would warm quickly now. She smiled slightly in her sleep and rubbed her cheek against his chest.

He wanted to place his hand over the other side of her face to warm it, but decided not to risk it.

If he woke her, she might accuse him of taking advantage, and then go back to the other bench where he would have to watch her shivering.

Snow hadn't even fallen at Bludston when he'd left, and she had often been cold there. Like the tartala flower, the Princess was ill-suited to endure the long Unarian winters.

Queen Ora had never appeared to suffer, but now he wondered if she had struggled with the cold as well. She had never offered a single complaint.

Queen Ora was one of the most dignified and graceful women he'd ever known. She never raised her voice or her hand to anyone, and yet, she commanded respect. If she spoke, each word was measured, and every sentence had a purpose. Queen Ora was like the ocean on a calm day-- deep and mysterious, yet deceptively calm and pleasant.

Her sister was more like a raging squall, he thought and smiled faintly as he glanced down at the small woman who, for the moment, slept peacefully against him.

The story of Queen Tasha, as Ora had told it, ended with Emperor Mali sacrificing their own children to a mountain demon to gain power, and the Queen cursing him when she learned of it.

There was a seed of truth to it, certainly. In those long ago days, Unaria was stricken by plague. There were so many sick and dying, that bodies lay for days where they had fallen.

When the younger princess fell ill, Queen Tasha refused to leave her bedside, and was also taken ill. Emperor Mali, seeing that his beloved wife and child would die, went to the mountains where there were rumors of the ancient ones. He found a demon there and begged him for a cure, offering his own soul in exhange.

The demon agreed to give him a potion that would cure one person in exchange for a sacrifice, but he would only accept a soul that was pure. He demanded one of Mali's children.

The Emperor returned to the palace to find that both his wife and daughter were in their final hours. In desperation, he did make the decision to sacrifice his child. Queen Tasha, whom he loved above all things, immediately regained her health. She learned what he had done, and despised him for it.

The curse she laid upon Emperor Mali had passed through generations of his family. Each ruler, in longing for an heir, would do dark and twisted things to obtain one, each becoming more like a demon than a man in that desire.

If the story told in pubs warned others not to make an idol of one person and sacrifice everything for their sake, that was fine with him. It captured the truth of the tale, at least.

Though he understood Emperor Mali better these days.

From the moment he found his remaining troops slaughtered in the woods between Gelt and Dreyva, and understood that the small Princess had purposely saved him from walking into a trap, he'd known that he would take any number of arrows for that child... or even from her.

He had told himself, however, that he was not like Emperor Mali, for he would never desire to keep the girl by his side. He knew what sort of man he was. He knew that anyone he kept close to him would not only be in danger, but would slowly change into a darker and more twisted version of themselves. Ilya was proof of that. Tartala flowers needed sunlight and warmth, and he lived in perpetual dark and cold.

And yet, looking down at her sleeping face, he could feel the greed that had grown in him. He would send her to safety, but at some point he had tacked on the word 'eventually'. He had once thought that he could never dare to touch her with hands stained in the blood of her countrymen and relatives, and yet now... he raised his hand to lightly stroke her hair, careful to move slowly and avoid waking her.

It would not do to dwell on it. He was no Emperor Mali at any rate. Besides, he owed debt also to Queen Ora, and that would be paid when the Princess reached Frem.

When the carriage stopped again, he carefully laid the Princess on the seat and covered her with the lap blanket and his own cloak before getting down to speak with the driver.

The Inn at that village was small and quiet and had rooms available. He gave the driver gold to pay the Innkeeper, and lifted the sleeping girl gently. She moaned softly and curled against him as he did.

He wanted to chuckle again. The girl had killed two armed and dangerous men within the span of a few days, and done so with little more than her wits and a small dagger. And yet when she slept... her face was as innocent and peaceful as a child's. She slept solid, unbothered by any potential threat. Did she trust him that much? She shouldn't.

When he reached the room, he laid her down and removed her small boots. A fire had already been lit in the grate, but it had not yet grown to heat the air, and he covered her with the rough blankets and his cloak, before taking a seat against the far wall.

He would have liked to lay beside her, but even now, there was a chance someone was watching, waiting for an opportunity to snatch the girl. He must be vigilant.

Emperor Grigori was the most likely culprit. He had been angry when they last spoke. Mikhail had never gone against his will before, and even though he could claim that he didn't know the Emperor's will when he took the girl, Grigori did not appear to believe him.

Like their father before them, the current Emperor had grown obsessed with the notion of producing an heir. Perhaps that had also been a part of Queen Tasha's curse from the beginning, that every man in his line should spend his life in longing for a child to succeed him. A fitting recompense for the child murdered by its father's hand.

If it was, it had not affected him. The very thought of a child of his own made him feel sick and anxious. Any child of his blood would be claimed by the Emperor anyhow.

Queen Ora was supposed to be the answer to the curse, the one who ended it. Emperor Grigori had gone to great lengths to find the oracle, and his hope had been linked to the prophecy he'd received. The House of Eosin had begun the curse with the magic in their blood and only the eldest daughter of a King that had lost his life under a Unarian sword could end it. Just as Queen Tasha had been.

Prince Mikhail glanced again at the sleeping Princess and felt gratitude that she was the younger daughter.

A day or so more and they would reunite with Ilya and the troops and she would be better protected. More importantly he could put some space between them and see to the needs of his body, so that he didn't spend every waking second desiring her to the point of pain.

Gods, and she was beginning to thaw toward him. He could close his eyes and still feel her arms wrapped around his neck, her face against his chest. Part of him advised that if he had her in his bed, then the spell of desire would be broken. It was probably just the allure of the unknown. The other part of him warned that somehow it would worsen. It wouldn't be enough to have had her body, he would then become desirous of her attention and heart.

Ilya was convinced that even the younger Princess of Eosin had power enough in her blood to destroy the krovbonds, but even he would often lament that the Prince went too far for the girl.

"Such a fuss, for such a small person," he would complain.

Yes. The small person did indeed require great effort. He smiled at himself when he remembered how horrified and lost he'd been before her tears. Ilya would have--

He still had not told her that Ilya was not her enemy! It was a good thing he'd remembered before they met up. There was no telling what the Princess might do otherwise.

He resolved to explain it to her as soon as she woke.