Page 44 of My Dark Horse Prince

It’s a pretty comprehensive list, and making sense of it distracts me while the pain starts to ebb. “Someone to swear at.”

He thumps his chest. “I’m ready.”

But something about his concern-laden bravado makes me want to laugh instead. And it makes my heart flip over, too. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

I can barely force the words out, and they aren’t very loud. “For being so grouchy.”

“If my body had betrayed me, I’d be crabby too.” His fingers brush slowly down the side of my face.

Again, I both hate and love what I’m feeling right now. I’m not sure which one to embrace. “Alright. I’m ready for the help-getting-up offer.”

He doesn’t fuss or make a big deal out of it. He simply takes careful hold of my upper arms and lifts. Kris hands me my crutches, and I hobble my way down to my room to grab my purse and phone.

“I do have an ID for you,” she says. “It’s a copy they printed, with a signature from the Latvian embassy, but it’s the best we could get for now. They’re making you an expedited passport that should be ready in the next day or so.” She offers me the temporary passport, and I take it gratefully and tuck it into my purse.

“We should have a new phone for you by tomorrow, but you may need to talk to them to confirm a few things. They were giving Aleks a hard time about having your plan transferred, since we’re in Russia, I think. A non-EU country and an EU country. . .you know the drill.”

Her fiancé’s really connected. Or, as he already mentioned, he’s quite rich and willing to spend that money. I suppose money’s better than connections, anyway. I wouldn’t know personally, of course, since I’ve never had either, but that seems reasonable based on what I’ve seen of the world.

“Hey, there.” Grigoriy’s leaning against my doorframe, and he’s wearing new clothes I helped him pick yesterday. He was already quite striking, but now. . . His hair’s pulled back with a rubber band, which I didn’t think I’d like, but it works for him somehow, and in the dark jeans and black sweater that hugs his muscular shoulders and chest. . .he’s dangerous. “Are you ready?”

I nod. “Yeah.” And I realize that, for the first time since my accident, I actually am. It’s time for me to be honest with Kris and with myself. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” he asks.

“Not you.” I shift, and I meet Kristiana’s eyes. “My surgeon back home told me that the surgery could possibly restore function to my leg, but because of how many pieces it was broken into before, and with the current damage to the bone shards because of all the pins and the screws. . .” I inhale and exhale slowly, “there’s a fifty percent chance it fails entirely.” I brace myself for her to be upset.

“Mirdza.” Kris’s entire face falls. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. Hopefully this surgeon will have more confidence in himself and your odds.”

“But if it does fail, and that seems likely.” I look down at the beautiful new boots she bought me, the boots that help distract from the terrible twist of my thigh where the femur joins the hip. “I don’t know how I’d ever pay you back. When I asked her for a loan, Brigita fired me. I have no job, and if I’m stuck in a wheelchair—” I choke up and look up at the ceiling to keep from crying.

“There’s no way you can teach,” Kris says. She’s crying now, too. She finally gets it.

A terrible sound behind me has me turning around.

Grigoriy’s hand somehow broke the wooden frame of the doorway, and it’s come detached from the wall. “Your value isn’t in being able to teach people to ride horses.”

“Actually,” I say, “it kind of is. Not everyone’s a lost Russian prince whose best friend has bought his old family estate and has a plan to restore him to wealth.” I shake my head. “My life, unlike yours, has never been magical, and I’ve never been worth much.” It hurts to say it aloud, but it doesn’t change the truth.

“You do have a best friend.” Kris is right beside me, now. She must have crossed the room while I was distracted by Grigoriy. “And I already told you that you don’t need to pay me back. It’s really not a big deal to us. Consider it the start of my apology for being so self-centered that I didn’t even realize what you were going through.”

“But—”

She drops her hand over mine. “No buts, Mirdza. You’re my sister, and I’m paying for this surgery. And I’ll be praying every single second that it goes well.”

“We might be ahead of ourselves,” Aleks says, leaning around Grigoriy. “We need someone to agree to do the procedure first. It was pretty hard for me to get us in to see this surgeon on such short notice. If we miss our appointment. . .”

“Let’s go,” Kris says. “And will you please tell Mirdza that you don’t care about the cost?”

“If I tell her how much I had to bribe the front office to get the appointment, will that make her feel better or worse?”

“Way worse,” Kris says. “Just tell her you don’t care.”

“I don’t care,” Aleksandr says. “And that’s the truth. Kris’s friend is mine too.” He smiles warmly.

“Besides,” Grigoriy says. “I already said that I’m paying, once I get my wind turbines running.”

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