Page 32 of My Dark Horse Prince

He looks at me for a moment.

Aleks honks the horn and we both startle. I nearly drop my crutches. Grigoriy looks back at the car and shouts something strange in Russian that I don’t quite understand. It makes Aleks laugh, though.

When he turns back toward me, he’s not smiling. “If I could have fixed your leg, I would have.” His voice is low and deep. “My healing comes from my wind power. The wind is fast, temperamental, and powerful. But it’s also short-lived. I can heal most anything. . .if it just happened. That’s why I could repair your fatal knife wounds. I could repair your snapped collarbone.” His voice drops to a whisper. “But that leg wound is old. It’s not something I can repair.” His shoulders drop just a hair. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t sound sorry. He sounds broken, too.

“It’s fine.” I swipe at my eyes before the useless tears can fall. “I’m used to it.” I inhale. “Besides. I’m more than grateful for what you did for me. I was just curious, that’s all. I’m sorry for making you feel bad.”

“Aleksandr says the top surgeon in the area is meeting with us tomorrow, and he’ll fix it.”

“I hope he makes it so that I can walk again.” I don’t tell him what the Latvian surgeon said about my success rate. “I’m really, really grateful to Kris and your friend Aleksandr for what they’re doing for me.”

“I’ll pay them back.” The playboy smile is back. “Then you can be grateful to me for it.”

“Are you two going to keep flirting all day?” Aleks asks. “Or are we going shopping?”

My face must be bright red while Grigoriy loads my crutches into the back and helps me into the car. But I feel a little better after he punches the back of Aleks’s seat. “Shut your stupid mouth and drive, idiot.”

7

When I was growing up, a trip into town was a big deal. There were so many people, so many shops, and so much happening all at once. It cost a lot to go into town, to buy clothes or housewares, so we rarely did it. But when we did?

It was so exciting.

The Russian shopping area Aleks drives us to in Novgorod is surprisingly robust. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m accustomed to Daugavpils, which is the second largest city in Latvia, but still not very massive comparatively. We still don’t quite have a hundred thousand people. Novgorod looks much larger.

“How many people live here?” I ask.

“A million and a quarter,” Kris says. “I wondered the same. It’s way bigger than back home, right?” She smiles warmly.

“It’s no Saint Petersburg,” Aleksandr says, “but it’s not bad.”

After he pulls into a space, I realize there’s an H&M, a Massimo Dutti, and a Mango store all right in a row. My three favorite places to window-shop, all sandwiched together. Only today, I’m going inside to buy new things for once.

“You look happy,” Grigoriy says.

“Oh,” I say. “I guess I am.” Even if I can’t pay for my own stuff, and even if I feel a little (or a lot) guilty about letting Kris pay, it’s still fun to have new clothes. It’s not something I’ve experienced often.

“Here.” Kris tosses my jacket over the seat. I slip into it quickly, not wanting to make anyone wait for me any longer than they already have to. In my haste, my hand catches on the liner and gets stuck.

“Here.” Grigoriy carefully and gently straightens out the sleeve, and I push my arm through.

“Thanks.”

Kris is smiling at me from the front seat, turned all the way around like a little kid watching something exciting. Her expression’s practically shouting, You two are so adorable.

I glare at her.

“Ready?” Grigoriy waits for me to nod, then reaches into the back and snags my crutches. He hops out and jogs around the car to open my door. “Here.”

All the attention makes me feel way worse. “Sorry.” I snatch the crutches from his hand. “I’m fine, though. I swear.” As if to make up for all the unwanted attention, I zoom ahead, making a beeline for the Mango store. I’m nearly there when I realize—I don’t even have a purse.

That takes some of the wind out of my figurative sails, and that phrase makes me think about Grigoriy, who has caught up.

His brow furrows. “What did I do?”

I sigh. “Nothing.”

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