Poisoned (2)

The water was growing cold. Talia heaved an irritated sigh and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the towel roll. There were no servants to call for more hot water. She'd had to send one of the guards at the door to full the tub in the first place.

How many hours would she have to wait for him? Her fingers and toes were already beginning to wrinkle.

It did not have to be today. Surely, there would be time before the council arrived to find another opportunity!

Talia slapped the water peevishly. What sort of war leader would give up so easily? Yes, it was taking longer for him to arrive than expected, but sometimes the enemy didn't advance when you wanted them to. You didn't give up the high ground because your troops were bored.

She knew, of course, that there was a large part of her that didn't want to do it. That winced at even the idea of hurting that man. However, there might not be another opportunity as perfect as this. His servants had not yet arrived from Bludston, and he would suspect nothing from a sick woman he had poisoned only hours before.

Her stomach still felt queasy, but it was certainly bearable. The Prince must have forgotten that she had lived through the starving times in Vezda. It was second nature for her to function almost normally while her body was weak and sick.

No, she would continue to wait.

Talia splashed her hands about in an attempt to stir more of the soap up into foamy bubbles and slid down so that the water touched her chin.

At that moment, she heard the outer door slam shut and his voice echo through the rooms as he called for her.

She felt her body tense as she waited. He would find her shortly, but she was prepared.

Prince Mikhail called again for her, and in his voice was a quaver of something that sounded almost panicked. He must have remembered the dagger.

Prince Mikhail burst through the doors of the bath and staggered into the room panting as though he had run the length of palace twice. It was odd for a man in such peak physical condition, who had spent most of his life engaged in intense training and battle, to be so out of breath.

Talia turned her head slightly to glance up at him. The Prince looked ill. His face was pale and haggard, and his dark eyes appeared as large and frightening as when he lined them in kohl for battle.

"What do you think you are doing?" she gasped, as though shocked by him. She wrapped her arms around herself and slid down further into the water, so that only her her eyes remained above the foam.

Prince Mikhail stared back and then glanced wildly about the room as if confused.

"You... why are you...in the bath?" he stammered.

"I have been ill! I am unwell! What business is it of yours?" she snapped. "How dare you barge in here and make demands of me. What sort of-"

"The dagger... where is it?" he growled.

"Leave this room at once!" she ordered.

"Princess..." he growled in a low threatening tone.

Talia shook her head stubbornly.

"What? Are you going to torture me or beat me until I tell? No... perhaps you'll poison me again," she said, glaring at him.

He winced faintly at her words, but his expression did not change.

"Where is the dagger, Princess?" he repeated.

"I'll give it back as soon as you fall asleep," she smirked. "Would you like me to put it in your neck or your heart?"

His large hand balled into a tight fist, and it looked for a moment as if he might punch something in rage or frustration. Talia glanced down at his fist and scoffed.

"Are you going to strike me, Prince Mikhail?" she asked calmly.

"When... have I EVER struck you?" he demanded in that low gravelly voice that raised gooseflesh on the back of her neck.

"When have I ever tortured or beat you or-"

"Or poisoned me?" Talia finished the question for him. "You poisoned me today with the wine you held in your own mouth. Will you lie to my face and deny it?"

He did not answer her with words but shook his head slowly as if her accusation was untrue.

"Do not deny what we both know is true!" she seethed. "Did you mean to kill me? Are you disappointed that you failed your Emperor? That I still draw breath?"

"I had no intention of harming you. I have done everything to protect you. I have-"

"Your words and actions are in disagreement, sir," she laughed and shook her head. "Please, no more of this. Do you think I will accept your proposal now? Do you really think that..."

Talia allowed her words to trail off as she raised her hand to her forehead.

"Princess?" he prodded cautiously.

"I... would you please send for... for a maid?" she asked, making her voice sound faint and weak.

"Are you... still unwell?" he asked, taking a step forward and kneeling down beside the bath.

"I... I am feeling... weak. I've been waiting for someone to come... the water has grown cold, but I can't... I can't seem to..." she faltered pathetically.

She did not dare to glance up at him and see if her performance was convincing him.

"I will send for someone at once," he said, standing up quickly.

Talia cursed inwardly, and turned to grip the side of the tub.

"Prince Mikhail, wait!" she called at his back. "I feel... I feel..." she stuttered and made to stand up. She saw his eyes widen as she stood, leaning hard on the edge of the tub, the water and suds spilling down her naked form. Slowly, she lifted her hand to him and then rolled her eyes back and fell with a terrific splash, sinking below the surface of the water.

Talia held her breath and waited. Her right hand gripped the hilt of the dagger she'd been sitting on beneath the water.

Seconds ticked by, and still there was no splash or even disturbance in the water-- no Prince Mikhail jumping in to save her, or even the shadow of him leaning over the tub to reach in and try to pull her up.

She felt an irrational surge of anger. What was he doing? Did he really intend to let her pass out and drown before his eyes? No. Perhaps he was testing her. Perhaps she had made too dramatic a scene, and he was waiting to see if she would run out of air.

While she was considering how long she should wait, the water at last swirled around her, shifting her limp body with it, She felt his strong arm slide beneath her back and then his other hand... grab her wrist and yank her arm.

In an instant, he had ripped her up and out of the water by her wrist and then crushed her against himself as he twisted her hand, ripping the dagger from it.

Trapped against him, she couldn't even fight him, though she struggled and failed as hard as she could.

"Did you think that I wouldn't know?" he growled. "Did you think that I would fall for it? That I don't recognize when you're up to something just by your eyes alone?"

"Let go of me!" she screeched. "Let go, I said!"

He took the knife and tossed it across the floor, well out of reach.

With her free hand she pounded against his chest, still struggling and writhing against him to free herself from his grasp. His arm tightened around her, and she wondered if he was so angry that he meant to crush the air right out of her.

"Stop," he ordered. "Stop fighting me. I am not your enemy."

He let go of her abruptly and she staggered back, almost losing her footing in the slippery bath.

"What are you to me then?" she demanded, panting from her earlier exertion, "You are not my ally. You are not my friend!"

She glanced up to see his eyes rake across her naked and shivering form and then glance quickly away.

"I've told you the truth before. I mean to protect you," he muttered.

"With poison?" she scoffed, wrapping her arms around her chest. "You mean to protect me by poisoning me?"

"The Emperor would have made an offer of marriage to you, had I not." he admitted. "You would have no choice but to accept."

"You meant to make me look sickly and weak before the Emperor and the court..." she realized.

"Yes," he answered quickly. "His personal physician has confirmed that you are unsuitable as the Emperor's consort. He will marry you to me now as a means of keeping you from testifying before the council."

"You.... you... bastard! How dare you!" she yelled.

"I did not lie to you. I will give you whatever you require. If you want gold for Vezda, you will have it. I will send farm supplies, wagons of food, whatever else you require. You can order and supervise all this for yourself. Whatever you ask for, I will-"

"I will not marry you!" she snapped. "Not for a ship full of gold! Not for all the farmland in Unaria!"

Still covering herself with her arms, Talia turned her back to him and waded toward the bath steps.

"Princess, you have no choice. The Emperor will not allow you to testify to the council. If not a marriage to the royal family, he will find a more permanent solution to ensure your silence," Prince Mikhail reasoned.

"Then my allies have all the more reason to avenge me," she answered quickly, reaching for the rolled towel.

The water slapping against her thigh alerted her to his movement, and she half turned as his arm came around her waist.

"Why not me?" he asked, his voice low and urgent. "My offer was honest. The Emperor's would not have been. Why not me?"

"Because you... because..." she stopped and bit her lip, lowering her eyes.

"Why not?" he pushed.

"Because I would never for one moment forget that the Emperor is my enemy! I would never fail to look at him and feel anything but hatred and disgust. I would never believe one word he spoke. I would never expect anything but a knife in the back. I could never be... betrayed," she admitted, her fingers digging into the towel as she felt his arms tighten around her.

"Then don't trust me," he reasoned.

"I don't," she whispered.

"Don't forget that I am your enemy," he said.

"I won't."

"Hate me as much as you desire," he murmured, smoothing the strands of wet hair away from her face.

"I... I... can't..." she admitted, glancing up to look at him.

He was watching her again with that familiar look. She knew why it was familiar now. She recognized that look from the starving times, when she was a child. It was the look of a weak and dying man being offered food at last, but knowing that he was already too far gone to eat.

"I can't hate you," she whispered. "The Gods know I've tried, but I..."

Prince Mikhail froze, he barely seemed to breath. Talia collapsed against him, hiding her face against his wet tunic. She felt his lips press against the top of her forehead.

She slid her hand up and around his neck and lifted her face, wet with both bath water and tears to his.

It was she who moved to kiss him. She who opened her mouth to his, who pushed against him, causing him to stumble back in surprise.