Page 56 of My Dark Horse Prince

“I doubt that,” he says. “But even if it’s true, I intend to change it.”

Luckily, our food comes out quickly. I’m not sure how much of that kind of talk I can handle. It’s a lot closer to the idiotic things Danils used to say, and it only makes me more wary of the man across from me. Luckily, if the waitress did anything to the food, I certainly can’t tell. I’m not sure why we came out to eat when we have a woman whose entire job it is at home to cook for us, but maybe it’s like the driving.

Poor, hibernating Grigoriy needs to get out and do things so he can acclimate to the new world order. He’s definitely right at home ordering people around.

“What did you do before you went into hibernation?” I ask.

He blinks, and I realize he thought it was obvious. “I was a prince.”

I mean, he said that, but I kind of thought it was a joke. “An actual prince?”

“The Czar rules in Russia, er, ruled in Russia.” His brow furrows. “But princes were like. . .earls in other places in Europe. We were royalty, from whom others took orders, but I wasn’t in line to rule and my family hadn’t been for a long time.” He shrugs. “My people loved to serve, because I took care of them. We never had droughts in Novgorod.”

“You and Aleksandr both were princes? Near Novgorod?”

“Do you know who King Rurik is?” He looks curious, not irritated.

I shake my head.

“He was the king who united the Slavic people—the Vikings, really, called the Rus—who had moved into Russia. There are literally hundreds of families who called themselves princes, but only five original families could claim a true line of ancestry that ran back to King Rurik.”

“Okay,” I say. “I guess that’s cool?”

He throws his head back and laughs. “You’re very hard to impress. Back before my hibernation—” His eyes twinkle. “Lots of women found me attractive. It figures I’d fall for the one who can barely tolerate me.”

“Oh, I find you attractive.”

He straightens, the laughter evacuating his face. “You do.” It’s not a question, but it is. Almost.

“But about Novgorod?”

“That was the capital city for King Rurik,” he says. “He placed the capital here, near the Volkhov River, just below Lake Ilmen. Two of the sons stayed close, even when the capital moved to Kiev, and then Moscow.” He shrugs. “The Volkhovs and the Khilkovs have always been close friends.”

“Was it hard, having a rich friend?” I can’t help thinking how, even though he was clearly never poor, my rich friend Kris is marrying his rich friend Aleks.

“It wasn’t ever hard. Aleks never cared, and he’d always give me anything or everything. It wasn’t ever something he even thought about.” He sighs. “But I didn’t have to think about it either. I can’t dig gold or gems from the earth, but I’ve always been able to make sure our crops grew well, and when I was alive, that was the most critical thing—feeding your people. A drought year could bankrupt most anyone.”

“But you could blow rain toward your people from anywhere.” I saw that firsthand.

“Sometimes it meant traveling a very, very long way.”

“So being able to transform into a horse was handy.”

“Not as much in my lifetime—I’d always choose a car for long trips.”

Our waitress brings the check, and he throws some bills down on the table. He’s adjusted remarkably well for just waking up. He stands and offers me his arm.

I wave him off and force myself to my feet.

“Your roads are dramatically better,” he says. “I’ll give you that.”

“Your roads?” The waitress is still hovering, apparently, and our conversation is not quite normal. “Whose roads?”

“He meant our roads in Latvia.” I beam at her obliviously. “They’re so much smoother than they are here. Probably because we have less snow and ice.”

The look the waitress shoots me would wither most girls I know.

Good thing I’m tougher than most girls.

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