"Kazbecki, why are you doing this?"
I manage to inject enough venom into my words that I don't sound completely pathetic. Behind the mask, however, I can feel myself breaking apart.
I am restricted, the soldiers, who I had once thought loyal, are forcing me to kneel on the marble floor. There is nowhere to run, to hide, these are my last moments.
Mere minutes ago, when the soldiers grabbed me, my first thought was that the Grand Duke had ordered my execution. But when the door opened it turned out to be Kazbecki. The Prince, my prince… my lover.
A part of me is glad I will die soon, so the sting of betrayal won't torture me much longer. I had believed him good, charismatic; we understood one another. Or so I thought. The man standing in front of me now is not the man I knew.
He glides forward to stand before me. His cloak hisses along the ground behind him, as rich and luxurious as it always is.
"Georgi," he drawls, regally stretching his elegant hands out towards me in a gesture that would seem pleading coming from anyone else, "I wish there was another way but there is not. You must die so that I can rule and bring order to Georgia." He turns away from me, as if addressing an unseen audience, and gestures grandly. "You have brought war but I will bring peace."
For a moment he almost looks regretful, but I know Kazbecki better than anyone and I know he regrets nothing. He will dance around my head like it's a maypole without a second thought.
There is a heavy pause.
Just when I think he's done taunting me, he steps back towards me and gracefully tilts my chin up. He's holding me like he used to, when he was mine, when I was his.
It sickens me.
He leans forward and I can feel his breath tickling my ear as he whispers, "I did love you, you know. It wasn't all a lie."
I spit in his face. It's a peasant thing to do but I know it will disgust him, he never could stand the rabble. Then, my thoughts turn to someone else.
"What about my son?" The words come out slowly, fearing the answer. I know the answer of course, but I want Kazbecki to look me in the eye, and tell the man he claimed to love that his son will die. To his credit, he does just that.
"Ah yes, Michael. Well Georgi, I think you know the answer," he pauses, "but, if it's any consolation, I will make the brat's death far less painful than yours."
In an instant, my anger overwhelms my control, and I am shouting. I am screaming at him.
"I can't believe I loved you! You will pay for this! You'll burn in hell and die just like me, because you are just as blind as I was and it will ruin you!" I hear myself cry in a voice that is not mine but the voice of a man betrayed, a man who was blind and ignorant. But I am not ignorant any more. He tore my eyes wide open, that is certain. I don't care whether the soldiers hear, they're killing me anyway and such a claim could destroy his reputation, and hinder his ascent to absolute power.
But Kazbecki just smiles.
The common people say ignorance is bliss, I think I'm only now beginning to understand that. I would have liked to remain blissfully ignorant of Kazbecki's true aims, but that's obviously not possible. Still, at least my last words were eloquent and well-chosen. I hope they sting.
"And I loved you Georgi." He says as an indulgent smile plays upon his lips. I don't know how he expects me to believe that.
I wait for him to leave, to turn his back on my final moments, but he doesn't. He watches. I hear the axe being sharpened and have no more than two seconds to lock eyes with him before the axe comes down on my neck.