The Prince of Ilios

Seventy-Seven

Ellora paced silently around her room. The small space was too much. It had been three days with little word from anyone except for Cyrus. 

She was still pacing back and forth, when he came once again at twelve o'clock. Ellora stopped momentarily as he came in with his guards, Alyn in tow., "My Princess. I am looking forward to our wedding." Cyrus said on his entrance.

"I am not going to marry you, Your Majesty." She muttered, as she did everyday. The whole conversation was a regular occurrence.

"I am not sure that you have much room to argue. You see, I have all of the power here and now. I am in control of the kingdoms. The provinces are currently in rigorous negotiations with me about the prices of their dear little darlings down in the dungeon. I suspect that many will fall in line, as I continue to assume the throne. That is the way that one must do things nowadays, take and then talk about it later. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission."

"You are hardly asking forgiveness." She glanced at him from the side.

"Come have tea with me, little dove." He motioned to the chair at the table beside him on the balcony.

Ellora took a breath. If she was ever going to have an ounce of freedom, it looked as though she would have to rely on herself. Even Alyn hadn't spoken to her since the day she found herself in this room. She sat in the chair, back straight, attitude formal. Cyrus motioned, and a maid poured them some tea. He took Ellora's hand, "Little dove, think of this. It is all so much easier to go along with it yes?" Why spend everyday up here fighting the inevitable, when you and I could make such a fantastic team? We could be great, ruling the provinces, water and fire."

Ellora bit her lip, being a "team" with Cyrus was the last thing she wanted. She very much doubted that she would agree with his definition of ruling, "I've never wanted to rule, ask anyone."

Cyrus laughed aloud, "I dare not make the trip down to the dungeons, dear, diseases and such."

Ellora looked out the window rather than continuing the conversation. A hawk flew overhead circling in the bright sun, searching for food. She shivered slightly as the afternoon drafted through the window. The snow had blanketed the province. Ellora had decided it was her least favorite season. It had had all the potential to be beautiful, but for Cyrus and the coldness of it all.

"I'll make a deal with you." Cyrus sipped his tea, "I'll take you out of the castle, we can go wherever you like and do whatever you would like, in return you marry me, agreeably."

She sipped her own tea thinking it over, "How about I marry you, and you free everyone in the dungeon and make sure they safely make it home?"

"That would never happen." He retorted.

"That is what I was thinking about your statement, so I figured I might as well be just as ridiculous." She said with a sarcastic smile on her lips. Her humor these days was getting somewhat dark, but she had very little to hope for at this point. Soon she would have to give up all together and find a way to cope with the situation at hand.

Cyrus squinted his eyes, "Fine, ride with me in a carriage, then. We do not have to get out, just be seen together."

"Why?" She put her cup down.

"It's good press. The people will accept my rough edges and ways if they see that someone good can do so as well."

Ellora wanted to laugh aloud, but knew it would probably earn her another whipping, "Then, let me see my friends, everyday."

"No. You could conspire something. I wasn't born yesterday." He leaned forward. He was getting close to what he wanted and knew he would have to yield soon, "You may write to them. I'll have the letters delivered."