"I'm sorry," you speak numbly, the words coating your throat. "I can't."

Below you, Gavrila's face sinks. "Why not?" he murmurs, his hands shaking around the closed velvet box.

Why did he ask you to do that? Why force you to break his heart when he knew you'd have to turn down a proposal?

Slowly, you sink to your knees, trying to slog through the explanation. Whenever you try to touch him, he jerks away as though you're poisonous. Perhaps you are - your screaming heart would attest to it. Ganechka hurls the delicate ring box at the wall of the barn and you flinch as it falls, having to force yourself to hold your ground. If you married him you'd become miserable.

He tries to stand, to turn away, but you grab him in your arms, desperate not to let him go. You could still be together, just not in matrimony or occupation. All the impossible things you two had done together already, perhaps this could be one more, if he could bear to look at you.

Suddenly he turns on you. "Is there someone else?" he spits.

You keep your eyes to the floor, it being the only way not to bawl at his mere suggestion. Does he not understand how precious he is?

"There is?"

"No there isn't," you fire the response back. How dare he even think that? Not even for a second.

Your words become silent then, your hasty explainations and pleadings. So did his. Instead he just prowls towards you, stepping closer and closer, your poor heart burning more and more until you snap and rip Papa's sword from it's scabbard. For a split second you think about putting it between him and you. Just to end the heartache and the pain. But no. How could you even think about that? Instead you plunge the sword safely into a bale of hay, excreting stale dust out from it, which chokes your throat even more.

Gavrila breaks into hysterics, muttering something about the spy again. How many times? You are not the spy! You never were.

"Gavrila listen to yourself!" You scream, fuming once more about his stupid, naive impulses. Why can't he just see that you're in love with him? Why can't he see what a pathetic queen you'd be?

In the next instant he is raising the sword, up above his head, then down. Down to your neck and you scream, catching the blade with your hand, blood sprouting even before you feel any pain. You taste blood on your tongue too. Your cheek is cut.

Ganechka...cut you.

He hurt you.

A sob rose in your throat.

He physically hurt you and not for the first time in the relationship.

You should fight back, Evie. Fight back and get the hell away.

And yet you only cry as he raises the sword again. You only cry more when the metal rests blankly on your shoulder, having done no harm this time. Sobs wrench your heart out.
Evangeline Bence would not cry.

I woke up screaming, as I had done every night since I came home.