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Eileen all this time felt something strange.
It was unclear to her why Cesare's emotions change so often and why they were so heavy.
His words and actions not infrequently seemed strange to her.
She wanted to know what had forced him to change.
But to ask Cesare himself the reason was by no means simple.
Unlike Eileen, trembling from tension, Cesare was infinitely unhurried.
He slightly shook the hand Eileen was holding.
She in fright let him go, but Cesare immediately grabbed her by the wrist.
Against the background of his large hand Eileen's wrist seemed quite tiny.
She remembered he could easily encircle both her wrists with one palm.
Cesare, who had firmly squeezed her wrist so she wouldn't flee, imperturbably pronounced as if nothing had happened:
"Did it not interest you where the scar went?"
"That too... is interesting." The reason she’d first asked about the wedding ring consisted of that feeling that it was right.
She couldn't explain clearly, but felt that the disappearance of the scar and the ring were somehow connected.
Having gathered her spirit, Eileen looked at Cesare.
She wanted by all means to achieve from him an answer, but it was worth meeting his red eyes as all her resolution melted like under sun rays.
Suddenly she felt sharp pain—Cesare was too strongly squeezing her wrist.
Eileen quietly whispered: "Painful..."
But even to this cautious request Cesare didn't let her go.
For some time he simply looked at Eileen, then slowly eased the grip.
Conducting with fingers over the red marks on her wrist, he finally spoke: "I read your diary."
Cesare smiled, his eyes curved like crescents: "You were so cute, Eileen."
From these words Eileen's heart fell.
In her diary everything in a row was recorded.
Of course, all her feelings for Cesare, without remainder, were there.
Not only love for him, but also offense...
The diary for Eileen was a way to pour out emotions.
She wrote in a heat, so she didn't even remember exactly what was there.
Eileen, who could memorize botanical textbooks by heart, didn't remember what she’d written in her own diary.
From the thought that Cesare now knew all, she wanted immediately to flee.
But she suppressed this urge and tried to reason sanely.
Cesare's words were physically impossible.
"But...
You didn't have time for this." Cautiously having pointed out the inconsistency, Eileen noticed how Cesare's smile became even wider.
In his eyes a sinister dark-red light flared.
Having met this gaze, Eileen bit her lip.
*‘Again this gaze.’* A gaze full of heavy, thick emotions incomprehensible to her.
Cesare didn't answer Eileen's remark.
Instead he pressed his lips to the wrist where marks of his fingers remained.
Slowly having torn away his lips, he spoke: "The scar on the hand."
His answer was misty: "It's just a price.
Just as you paid for delivery from the death sentence, having become a Duchess, I too had to pay a due price."
His words clarified nothing.
It seemed he didn't intend to explain anything to Eileen.
Having heard the answer, Eileen only more convinced herself: Cesare wanted her to know nothing.
The sensation of flight she’d experienced even a minute ago crashed to the ground.
Eileen, all in dust, distractedly meditated: *‘Even having become a Duchess, I still only receive, but don't give.’* Not that she lightened his burden—she was only a burden.
Of course, Cesare couldn't rely on her, and yet the heart squeezed from pain, as if someone had pricked her with a pin, having woken her from a sweet dream.
Sharp reality was unbearable.
But Eileen didn't surrender and gathered last remnants of courage: "I don't understand what you mean."
She cautiously looked at Cesare: "Could you not explain in more detail?"
Probably, she had a very pleading gaze.
But Cesare with one word cut off: "Not now."
She didn't want this, but, having received a direct refusal, felt strong pain.
It seemed Cesare had publicly confirmed her uselessness.
Eileen several times tried to say something before quietly whispering: "Good..."
Not in a state to longer look him in the eyes, she lowered her gaze.
Then Cesare immediately touched her cheek.
But didn't force her to raise her head.
Simply tenderly stroked the cheek and continued: "When we met for the first time, you were crying.
And for the last time too were crying."
"..."
"And if there is a reason to force you to cry again, I will try to delay this as long as possible." Eileen's nose tickled, and she stifledly spoke: "I... it seems I'll cry now..."
"If you cry a little—it's nothing scary."
How much must one cry for it to become "forbidden"?
In any case, it was better altogether not to cry.
When Eileen clenched her teeth to restrain tears, he kissed her.
The calming kiss was soft, but in something forced.
He parted her lips so she couldn't bite them, and thoroughly explored each tooth and delicate mucous.
Caressing her so she’d receive pleasure, he caught the fleeing tongue and tormented it in his own way.
Having licked out the saliva accumulated in the mouth, he tore away.
Eileen greedily inhaled air.
Cesare looked at her quickly heaving chest with a burning gaze and said with underlined tenderness: "All the same sometimes I will drive you to tears, Eileen."
***
It happened when Eileen was 12, and Cesare—19.
Having heard the girl had been kidnapped, Cesare immediately set off for the capital.
It was desertion, and he perfectly realized this.
Cesare's knights, as always, followed him, and five of them too became deserters.
But it didn't have meaning.
For he was able to save the child.
"You, knowing I am proud of you and value you, dared such a thing!"
Cesare, standing on knees without a shirt, silently accepted the emperor's wrath.
He mercilessly whipped him with a whip brought by a chamberlain.
The emperor, in youth having commanded on the field of battle, and in old age preserved strength.
Each strike of the whip tore flesh, blood splashed.
The emperor considered Cesare his likeness.
Although the similarity consisted only in the huge build and fierce gaze, he everywhere trumpeted that Cesare was his exact copy.
And when Cesare won in battles, the emperor attributed merits to himself.
He couldn't reconcile himself that his pride, the prince, had descended to desertion because of some child.
Therefore, to teach the beloved prince a lesson, the emperor personally executed the punishment.
Cesare, turned into a bloody mess, didn't emit a groan.
The emperor, venting rage, briefly stopped.
He lowered the bloody whip and asked: "Is she your woman?"
Cesare restrained a bitter smirk and perforce answered: "This girl is only 12."
The emperor snorted—these were Cesare's first words since the beginning of the punishment.
He looked at him with a softened gaze: "A bit early, but already an age to go out in marriage.
Has she had her period already?"
Cesare briefly fell silent.
Having swallowed blood in mouth, he answered: "As far as I know, not yet."
"Well, maybe attach her to you for sexual education?"
Cesare, having lowered eyes during the punishment, finally raised them.
The emperor was vilely grinning.
He drew a line: this girl will never become your wife, but if you want—you can take her body.
"I simply worried about the wet nurse's daughter." Cesare looked the emperor straight in the eyes and slowly continued: "You after all know I grew up without a mother."
The wet nurse's daughter, the only one who had been kind to the prince whom his own mother beat.
And this time this beautiful screen protected Eileen.
The emperor quickly softened and loudly guffawed.
"Good when the elder remembers good.
But, son, one must be able also to command the younger."
The emperor's gaze pierced Cesare.
He strictly warned: "So that such is no more.
Understood?"
The emperor learned of Eileen's existence.
Having realized this, Cesare inhaled into lungs the bloody smell.
Then slowly smiled and answered: "Yes, Your Majesty."
In this moment Cesare decided that he would kill the emperor.