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" When you say I seem angry,
I get more angry,
And there's nothing like a mad woman "
―IN THE MORNING, my mind replays the kiss in the gardens from last night, all the events on rewind like a broken cassette tape repeating the same line over and over until it grows into a buzzing in the back of my skull. I decide that when I enter Os Alta, it would be better for the nobles to see a weak little girl rather than one in a gorgeous gown, so I sadly fold the dress Nikolai gifted me and place it in my bag, donning the old creme one I was given on our journey.
Although Os Alta will be filled to the brim with eager pilgrims and refugees, Nikolai doesn't force Alina nor me to stay in the carriage, but it certainly doesn't stop him from putting on a display.
Alina and her guards are all on strong, tall white horses, and I catch a glimpse of a sunburst pin on each of the guards' chests. Nikolai is leading one last horse out from the dacha's stables and I raise my eyebrows upon seeing it.
I can tell that she's a girl, her mane a caramel gold that gleams in the sunlight.
"She's mine?" I ask Nikolai as he leads the horse over to me.
"Understatement is overrated," he states. "Besides, she reminds me of you."
"I'm going to ignore the fact that you just compared me to a horse."
"A very beautiful horse, Yi. There's a fine line."
"Oh, definitely," I mutter as a smile tugs at my lips. Nikolai hoists me up onto the horse and I tie a firm knot in the reins, tugging on them to test them out. "She is beautiful. Reminds me of buttered toffees."
"That's certainly a creative comparison," Nikolai muses as he mounts a dappled grey.
"Buttered Toffee is a good name, isn't it?"
He grimaces. "Yi, you know how much I love you, but that may not be one of your best ideas."
I roll my eyes. "You're just jealous that I like Buttered Toffee more than you."
Nikolai grins, the sun making his clear hazel eyes gleam. "Well, now you've caught me."
I click my tongue in command and Buttered Toffee obliges, taking a few steps forward and beginning our journey.
It's a considerably warm morning, and the banners of our entourage hang limp in the air without any refreshing breezes to keep them afloat. Our progress is slower with such a display, but it does, admittedly so, look quite regal. Usually, the royal family would spend the hot months pampered in their summer palace in the lake district, but Os Alta is easily more defended, and clearly the King and the Queen care more about saving their lives rather than getting a good tan.
