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♛❞
I look out the window behind the counter, the warm sunset hues illuminating through the thick glasses and colouring the empty establishment. With nothing at present keeping me occupied, my mind meanders to when Simon considered me to be the missing Grand Duchess of the Imperial House of Russia.
"I cannot be her—" I mutter to myself, picking on the dirt under my nail and flicking it to the floor, thinking thoroughly of such a possibility, "can I?"
I briefly glimpse behind me, seeing my mother sweeping the kitchen floor. I had repeatedly suggested that I broom the room as I did not want her to suffer from back pain, though she regularly snatches the broom away from me, expressing she is capable of doing so.
My mother had never mentioned being wedded with the absence of a ring as an indication and scarcely spoke of my father, telling me I should not concern myself with somebody I would never encounter. I never questioned her either, not wanting to provoke her rage onto me as a child, thus leading me not to broach of father anymore as an adult. When I was much younger, I would often become upset about the lack of a father figure in my life, envious of other little girls dallying merrily with their father in front of me. My mother has no other family members either, claiming her parents had long passed away in Russia and that she was an only child, so the possibility of at least an uncle was out of the question.
Therefore, my entire life, it was only my mother and me.
I grumble loudly, rubbing the edge of my nose with my thumb and pointer finger, using my other hand to steal an English trifle from the counter display case. I take a seat on one of the many chairs by the window, using my silverware to spoon my desert into my mouth, choosing to dismiss Simon's ridiculous idea from my mind. As I am about to swallow the content in my mouth, I find myself chocking horrendously at the sight of the very Duke of Hastings on a black horse outside the bakery, followed by a regal carriage and bow street runners.
"Kira, what is going on?"
What is Simon doing?
I ignore my mother's question and push myself to swallow my desert to stand up from my seat and stand by the door when suddenly I am forcefully pulled by the wrist, diverting my attention from whoever was about to descend the carriage to my trembling mother.
"K-Kira, please, we have to get away from here," she begs, her eyes brimming with tears on the verge of overflowing, slowly bringing me behind the counter.
I frowned at her words, "Why? We have nothing to run away from."
She glances behind me, her breath becoming more shallow as her iris shrunk, tugging my arm once more, "it is the Imperial Russian Family. We leave now."
"It is all a misunderstanding then. The Duke of Hastings believed I was the Grand Duchess, so we only need to explain this misinterpretation—" and as I was comforting my mother, the bakery door slammed open with bow street runners barging inside, alongside Simon and the Imperial family. My words dried out when my eyesight landed on the Empress that stood by the door. My mind blanched from all thoughts when noticing all the resemblances I shared with her; the sharp cloudy blue eyes, face structure and silky black hair.
"Kira!"
A man in uniform quickly strutted towards us and grabbed the upper limb of my mother, snatching her contact from my wrist, bringing her to her knees on the floor. I stared down at her, my breathing gradually becoming heavy. She possesses bright round blue eyes with her face structure on the square side and hair blond— we are nothing alike, but I assumed I shared my features with an absent father. However, it proves incorrect, and as Simon had previously proclaimed, I am the flawless carbon copy of Ena Romanov, the Empress.
"This isn't a misunderstanding, is it?"
Complete silence was all I heard, and despite that, it answered all that I feared. Everything suddenly felt unreal, I wanted to call out to Simon, but no sound seemed to want out of my parched lips as my head dizzied from what I was apprehending. I held onto my stomach as it churned uncomfortably, and my legs abruptly gave out, having no strength on controlling my weight anymore.
All my life, I had been living with my kidnapper.
What compelled such a woman to commit such treachery?
"You are mistaken!" my mother screamed, tears streaming past the apples of her cheeks, lips wobbling, and nose reddened from her emotions, "She is Kira Kalashnik—"
"Don't lie!" The Emperor, Fyodor Romanov's voice boomed, blond hair ruffled in a mess, "You may have become older, wrinkled and swag bellied, but I know it is you, Aleksandra Kalashnik."
My mother shrinks at his abrasive tone, though her eyes still firmly fixated on him, "You took away my precious Kira from me, so I took Vasilia away from you. And now Kira is alive! Vasilia is long dead!"
The Emperor's nose flared in anger, voice severely low, "Take her away from here."
As my supposed mother was dragged away by the bow street runners, pleading and screaming my name, or rather the name she gave me. Simon immediately rushed to my side, effortlessly hoisting me up by wrapping an arm by my waist as I held onto the material on his shoulder and bringing me into the carriage.
"I'm so sorry I didn't listen to you," I finally say when he aids me as I climb the carriage steps, "I am so deeply sorry. And even after how I reacted and shouted at you, you still went out of your way to help me. I truly appreciate you doing all this for me, Simon."
Simon smiles fondly, "Do not worry about it. You are like a dear baby sister to me, Your Imperial Highness. I would do just about anything for you."
I giggle at the use of the title, cleaning the tears in my eyes with my wrist as I sniffed, "That will take some time getting used to."
"You will get used to it quickly," he shrugs, pearly teeth showing as he grinned, "you were always behaving like a prissy princess anyways."
