18 Fear of the Future

Gi watched Ilya coldly as he flipped through a book. He tried to ignore her, instantly regretting his decision to ask her to teach him how to read Vaelic.

Each time he glanced up from the book, she was still staring her expression never changing.

Ilya began to wonder if she ever even blinked.

Finally, she spoke.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Ilya glanced from her to the book and back to her.

"Reading?"

Gi let out a small huff, tapping her nail against the table.

"What do you think you're doing with Beatrice?"

Ilya inhaled sharply. He smiled as if he didn't have a care in the world. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Gi's cold gaze didn't falter. "It's been a year and a half since you've come."

Yes... It was something Ilya knew well. The letters from home had begun arriving, beckoning him back to the empire. A war was coming. A war that Ilya and Gi would both know how it would end.

A year and a half. Time had passed much quicker than Ilya could ever imagine. A year and a half. A year and a half since he officially met Beatrice. A year and a half since she got married. Twenty years since he saw her die. Almost thirty since the original invasion.

Time has passed so quickly. As each day ticked by Ilya could feel himself becoming more and more scared. He knew he had a decision to make even without Gi telling him. But the closer he got to the war the more he wanted to ignore it. If Beatrice hadn't shown a sudden interest in politics he would have taken her away a long time ago, find a comfortable place to hide where no one could ever interfere.

But he couldn't do something like that if Beatrice would hate him for the rest of their lives.

Besides, that woman seemed desperate to keep her marriage together.

Ilya felt an ugly flash of jealousy. It curdled in his stomach, bringing a foul taste to his mouth. Sometimes he couldn't help the images that would flash through his mind. He hated the sight of another man touching the woman he loved. Sometimes in his mind he could hear her cry of ecstasy. He wanted to erase the thoughts from his mind.

She had given her body to another man and Ilya was happy with just a passing brush of a hand.

He hated everything about it. He hated that she was married. He hated that he was from an enemy country. He hated that he had to make a decision when everyone else around her could be their comfortably. He hated the way he felt about it.

He was reminded once again that he ultimately was an outsider. No matter how hard he worked or how much he loved Beatrice, Ilya would always be an outsider.

"I'm going to take Beatrice away," Gi finally said. "If you won't stop it, I'm gonna protect her from the monastery invasion."

Ilya sighed. Deep down he knew he had made his decision long ago. He just never wanted to admit it to himself. He wanted more time. He needed more time with Beatrice before the way she saw him changed forever. He wanted a few more smiles that she would never be able to make again. Even if she still loved him, she would never be able to smile the same way again.

"You can't do that," Ilya clenched his fist. "My father will stop at nothing to find her and if she gets found by anyone but me they'll kill her on the spot."

Gi's face hardened. Her eyes turned into stabbing icicles. "What are you saying?"

"Give me six more months," Ilya couldn't disguise the break in his voice. "I'll return home so I can protect Beatrice during the invasion without raising any suspicions."

"So at the end of the day you're still the empire's dog."

Ilya opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words to refute her. "I'll protect Beatrice, I swear."

Gi slammed her hand on the table, knocking over the stack of books to the floor. "You expect me to just surrender my country? You expect me to sit by and do nothing and let your filthy soldiers pillage my home? Beatrice would never forgive me if she knew I sat by and did nothing. She'll never forgive you either."

"I have no intention to ask for her forgiveness."

"You're a fucking liar."

A small flirted with Ilya's lips. "I am my father's son."

Gi scoffed incredulous. The air between the two of them changed that day. They had never particularly liked each other, but they could at least endure the presence of the other for Beatrice's sake. But now it turned absolutely hostile. Every time Ilya entered a room, Gi left it. If Gi entered a room they would engage in petty battles for Beatrice's attention.

Ilya couldn't live like that. But time was precious.