Page 62 of My Trojan Horse Majesty

He’s the sympathetic, battered hero—I’ve witnessed it firsthand.

Chapter17

Leonid

When I was young, lots of women told me that my face was a blessing—a blessing from my mother, I assumed. I don’t remember her or what she looked like but I learned as I grew that I didn’t resemble my father in the slightest. Everyone just assumed I took after my mother, and I believed they were right.

It brought me no joy—my mother had left us. I didn’t want to be like her, but thanks to my face, women noticed me. As I grew older, they made eyes at me. They flirted with me. And then, Katerina Yurovsky pretended to like me in the hopes of making another man, a rich and powerful man, jealous.

It put me in the right place at the right time.

But I also came to realize that having a beautiful face without having power—having a comely appearance without wealth—is more of a curse than anything else. And now that I have power, wealth, and this face? Honestly, it still just makes my life more difficult nearly all of the time. People, mostly men, don’t take me seriously. Women are distracted from what I’m telling them, from the point of our interactions. I’ve considered acquiring a nasty scar down one cheek, or perhaps a burn that covers one side. At least then, people would stop being distracted by something that doesn’t matter.

From the moment I won the Russian election, or honestly, possibly even before then, power players have sent women to me hoping to win me over. Other women have come to me of their own will. All of them want something from me, but they’re careful to tell me that they’re happy to be sent.

Because of my face.

When I refused to ever take the bait, those same men started sending little boys. Cue my retching. The entire world seems to be unable to accept that someone with a beautiful face may, nevertheless, not be romantically inclined. I’m not the kind of person who has ever wanted a partner, a companion, or a soulmate. I’ve left my cursed good looks intact only because I believe they helped me win the election.

My face and my body are tools, like any other.

But when I finally wake up after a long night of playing catch-up, I feel someone’s fingers stroking my cheek, and I know immediately whose they are.

Isabel Brooks.

For the first time in my life, Iwantthose fingers to touch me.

I’m grateful for this stupid, useless face.

Does she like it? Does she enjoy looking at it? And most importantly, if I open my eyes, will she dart away? Or will my mother’s infernal face finally prove to be the blessing it was promised to be all along?

I’m too nervous to open my eyes for a long time—a full minute at least. Maybe two. But finally, the fingers freeze, and I realize she must have noticed that my breathing changed or my traitorous eyes moved beneath my lids. Something gave me away, so I go ahead and look at her.

She’s staring at me, her large, cornflower blue eyes wide. “I’m—” She snatches her fingers back. “I’m sorry.”

I can’t help my grin. “Don’t ever be sorry around me, love.” I shift a little, rolling from my side to my back so I can look at her. “Did you get enough sleep?”

She yawns and stretches, and I follow the line of her graceful arm up and backward. “Yes, but I’m embarrassed that I fell asleep with all these people here.” She straightens then, and looks around.

But they’re all gone now.

I sent them all away.

A tiny wrinkle furrows her brow. “Where—where did they all go?”

“They have rooms of their own,” I whisper. “I told them to find them and stay there.”

“You are human, then,” she says softly. “You do have to sleep.”

I chuckle. “Of course I am. It’s my only vulnerability.”

She sighs and falls back against the pillows, her eyes closing. “Other than me, I guess.”

“Right.”

“I—I wasn’t—I shouldn’t have been hovering like that. I’m sorry. It was rude.”

“Rude?” I can’t help a bemused smile. I’m not sure I’d call tracing the line of my cheek rude, but I don’t know what I would call it instead. I want to ask her whether she likes my face, but I’m afraid she might say no.

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