Page 62 of The Tsarina's Favorite
“You are a conundrum,” the princess declared.“You speak like the most educated among us, and yet you stay silent.You’re patient to a fault at times, and then I come out to visit and you’re as contrary as can be.”
“No one wants to be around a creature that fails to amuse them.”
“You’re silent to be left alone?”
“I little enjoy most interactions.”
“Do you want me to leave you alone?”she asked in a whisper.
“Please don’t.”
“Why not me?”
“You’ve been kind to me.”I gestured to the spread before us.“And you’re not doing it to get something from me.”
“Except for our banter, which is intentionally mean-spirited, you’ve been pleasant to me too.”
“Why, it’s almost as if I have feelings.”
“Absurd,” she teased.“Surely not.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.Besides, I have no one.Who would I tell?”
“So any company, even the inferior company of something like me, will do?”
“If any company, even the subpar company of a spoiled lady, will do for you.”
“That sounds sufficient to me, princess.”
A scowl crossed her face as she glared at the pastries.
“What grave offense have the confections committed to earn such a condemning look?”
“What?”She blinked up at me and then smiled.“Oh, no.They’re fine.I was just thinking that, maybe instead of you using my title, you could use my name?”
“Is not using Alaina quite forward?”
Her eyes doubled in size.“You know who I am then.”
“I have known who you were for a while now, even when I could not see you.”The conversation had gone a little serious, so I added, “I could smell your cheap perfume three leagues away.”
“Oh, do hush.”She shoved a piece of chicken in my direction.“I don’t comment on your stench of wet grass and excrement.”
“You should have told me earlier, if that’s what I smell like.”I took the chicken from her.“I could have borrowed some of your perfume!”
She wadded up one of the empty napkins and tossed it at me.
“And what’s your name?”she asked.
I almost choked.I stared at her and froze from not having anything ready to give her.I hadn’t anticipated needing to create an identity for myself.Mikhail, even without the title of prince, seemed too damning, especially so close to my supposed execution.
She added, “If you have a name.”
I could always say I didn’t, but then I ran the risk of the princess renaming me, probably to something vapid, infantile, and insulting like Birdie.
“Michele,” I said at last, using the Varnasian alternative of Mikhail, the name Irena used for me exclusively.
