Hope

"Set it down there and get out!" he snapped.

His face was suddenly quite flushed, and even the servants were surprised by the anger in his voice. Why did the Prince become so angry with servants who had followed his orders so efficiently?

Talia knew why. She smirked and turned her back to the Prince, glancing out the window as if she found the dead scenery below to be of more interest than the Prince's tantrum.

As the servants hastily left the room, she continued to stare bemusedly out the window.

The man who looked uncomfortable and pained at even the mere mention of words like 'love' and 'marriage', was now about to ask for her hand. What did he stand to gain from it? Or perhaps more appropriately, what would he lose by handing her over to his brother? There had to be a reason.

"Were you about to propose, Prince Mikhail?" she asked in a snide tone.

He did not answer her, but she heard the water pour into the basin behind her.

"Or perhaps you were making a joke," she suggested.

"I would not make light of your situation," the Prince replied. "You have few options. If you hope to benefit Vezda, there are really only three choices. You can agree to marry the Emperor, you can wait for the King of Blackside to name the price of his support-- which may very well be more than you can afford, or you could marry me."

She heard him plunge something into the water, and realized that he was probably washing his face or his hands.

That a man could even be so nonchalant! That he should propose marriage to a daughter of Eosin in such a casual manner while washing his face!

"How very romantic of you," she quipped. "I hope you'll forgive me for not immediately accepting such a sincere and impassioned request!"

"Do you suppose you'll receive a romantic proposal from the Emperor?" he muttered.

"No, I expect an invitation to sit down and negotiate a mutually beneficial agreement. I expect an offer, first and foremost, which would entice me to even consider such an arrangement. You've made me no offer in exchange for my hand, so I can only conclude that it must be your heart which inspires you to speak of marriage," she taunted.

"What does the Princess require in exchange?" he asked.

Annoyed by his off-hand manner, Talia at last turned to face him and sucked in a sharp breath.

The Prince had removed his tunic and was engaged in wiping the lather from his chest and arms with a damp cloth.

Once again, she was struck by his powerful physique- how every muscle in his abdomen could be so defined, how strong and large his arms were- how his skin glistened when damp, and how hot she knew that skin would feel against her fingers.

"W-what are you doing?" she demanded, taking a step back.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he replied.

"Well... stop that. Have some decency and put your shirt on!" she ordered.

"You said I was filthy from travel, and you found my smell offensive," he reminded her.

"T-that's... I..." she stuttered.

He slowly rubbed the damp cloth across his chest as he stared back at her. Soapy water ran in rivulets down his abdomen, soaking the band of his trousers.

He was being indecent and he knew it well!

"You told me once that bare arms in Unaria were indecent!" she reminded him.

"And you told me that if you had arms like mine, you would bare them every chance you got," he smiled faintly.

His smile was dangerous. It reached right through her ribs and squeezed her heart so that it beat twice as hard. So hard that she could hear it in her ears. Her face felt warm.

"If you refuse to put your clothes on, then I shall leave," she said quickly, though she did not move.

If she left the room, she would have to walk past him, and she did not trust that he wouldn't try to stop her, and once those arms were around her... well...

She took another step back and felt her shoulder brush the tapestry. She could retreat no farther.

"I have gold," he said, ignoring her threat. "If that is what you want for Vezda, I can fill a wagon with gold and send it to your Sir Aron within a week's time. If you want food or supplies, you can name the amount, and I'll buy them. If you marry the Emperor, you'll receive no title, not even Queen. There would be too many at court who would whisper that you were not untouched. You would be a higher ranked consort at best. If you marry me, you would be a Princess of Unaria and Duchess of Bludston. There is some benefit to those titles. You can attend the high court, you would be invited to all the highest society events, you would have... influence here."

These were all things that could benefit Vezda, Talia realized, and yet, why was he offering them? What did he stand to gain from it? Why now? What did Prince Mikhail and even the Emperor fear from allowing her to speak with the King of Blackside?

"And what do you hope to gain?" she asked, already knowing that there was little to no chance of getting the truth from him.

"You," he answered simply.

Talia scoffed. Of all the lies he could have told, he went with the least believable one! lf that was truly what he wanted he could have simply taken her at any point. In fact, at the tavern, she probably would have even allowed him to.

"Me?" she chuckled. "That's no answer at all. A marriage to the ruler of a conquered country, from a fallen house, with no powerful relatives, who brings no allies... you're teasing aren't you?"

"No," he answered simply, dropping the wash cloth into the basin. "What I want is you."

"Why?" she demanded.

He took a step toward her, and Talia gasped and tried to step back, forgetting that she was already against the wall. The back of her head hit the tapestry with a thunk.

Prince Mikhail froze at her reaction and then slowly lowered his body so that he was kneeling a few steps from her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"You want to know why," he said. "I don't know. I only know that when you act as though you're afraid of me, I want to beg you not to be. When you cry, I feel like I'm being stabbed with a knife. When that man held a knife to your throat in the Devil's Oven, I wanted to kill him and every person he'd ever known or loved, and when you were dying of cold, it felt like I was dying as well."

Talia shook her head slowly. The conversation they'd had that morning weeks ago at the inn... when she'd accused him of never being vulnerable, and now he knelt, making himself appear vulnerable... and speaking only of feeling vulnerable. He was simply saying what he believed she wanted to hear.

"I... don't believe that," she whispered.

"How can I convince you then? What else can I say? Your smile then..."

"My smile?" she scowled.

"You have three smiles. One that you do when you're nervous and you're trying not to be. One for when you're genuinely amused, and one for when you're remembering something good and you think no one's watching you... and sometimes I think to myself... what if there are other smiles? What if one day there is a smile that she only gives me? I want that." His voice had grown very quiet as he spoke, and Talia could hear her own heart throbbing in her ears once again.

"And your eyes... they... your eyes..." he faltered, trying to find words, but instead pressed his lips together into a thin line, his old habit that she recognized well.

He reached out slowly and gently took her hand, and she allowed it. Pressing it gently in his own as he stared at it, he smiled to himself.

"And your hands, of course. So small and fragile, I could crush them easily if I squeeze too hard- the thought alone makes me nervous-- and yet these hands are so fast and skilled. They wield daggers, they've commanded armies, they've killed men. I want these hands," he murmured and lifted her hand to his lips.

Turning it over, he kissed her open palm gently, and then her wrist, nipping it slightly, which caused a delicious shiver to pass through her body as her breath hitched.

He felt it, of course, though he did not say anything as he placed her hand against his face and held it there, closing his eyes.

"And... of course..." he growled, his deep voice becoming gravelly, "I want you in my bed. I want you beneath me. I want to hear you scream and moan my name, I want to see you come undone. I want to feel you, to taste you, to make your body mine and remind you of it every night and every morning. I want to give you so much pleasure that you long for my touch the way I long for yours, and I want to-"

"S-s-stop!" Talia cried. She was trembling now, though she couldn't say why. Perhaps the shock of someone saying such dirty things to her. Perhaps the shock of wanting him to do more than simply speak such words.

"Be my wife," he said simply. "I will aide your people. I will protect you. I will give you whatever you demand, Princess. Whatever you wish."