Thread: Winter's Kiss (Ursus Peregrinus & Candy_demon21)

Prince Nikolai Ilyich Kostchei Petra was still sitting there, arms wrapped around her knees, her face buried between her arms. When Odette reappeared and spoke she looked up. Her blue eyes were red from crying and she sniffled as she listened to Odette's words. You don't understand. Petra said. This is a refuge for us. None of us have anywhere else to go! You volunteered to come, just like us, but YOU have a home to go back to don't you? The words were a bitter accusation. The Master makes his home a refuge for us. I came here to escape a marriage to a cruel older man. My father all but sold me to him, to pay his debts. The Prince gives us a place where we can live when there is nowhere else left. He gives us work, he gives us a home! The girl closed her eyes and shook her head. He cares about us, as much as he can. He is not an easy master, but he is a good man! The fierce loyalty in her voice shook her, but Petra managed to shake off her sorrow and frustration. You can leave, when your time is done. I have to stay here. Remember that. You may hate him but he is more a father than my own flesh and blood was! Those words triggered another bout of sobs and Petra forced herself to her feet, tears still streaming from her eyes. Don't you dare anger him. Don't you dare! If he casts us out we'll have nothing left. Petra wrapped her arms around Odette and buried her face against the girl's shoulder, trying to regain some control of herself and failing. Oh gods and demons, what are you about girl? It was a deep, rough voice that interrupted them, and the felt-booted, bearded figure who appeared down the corridor had the peculiar disapproving expression many men wore when faced with women in tears. As though they didn't know what to do and wished the problem would just go away. Petra! Petra, calm down girl. You've both been keeping his highness waiting. Ivan Morozov stomped up to them, rubbing a callused hand through his grey hair and grimacing as he drew Petra away from Odette. Hush lass. Go see Irina in the kitchens. Tell her that you both can have the rest of the morning to yourselves. Go on, now, I'll see to our guest. Petra shuddered and nodded, her face flushed almost as bright as Ivan's florid complexion. She glanced back at Odette but Ivan's large hands turned her and she nodded again and made her way down the corridor, still sniffling. The Prince's castellan was a bear of a man, even larger than the burly groom who had driven the carriage up the mountain from Eisengrad. Part of that bulk was the thick coat and the fur hat he wore, but much of it was simply him. The faint smell that hung about him reminded Odette of some of her mother's medicines, tinctures she made with herbs and strong spirits. You'll be Odette then, hey? I'm Ivan Morozov, the Prince's castellan. You've been keeping him waiting, girl. Best be coming along to breakfast, he's a patient man but he's a fierce temper to him as well. You'd be a fool to anger him... or to anger him any more than you already have. I've never seen him in such a mood, and I've been keeper of his keys for nearly forty years now. The man certainly didn't look so old, but the Prince was three centuries now and he looked no more than thirty. Come along. You must be hungry. Don't mind Petra, she's... Ivan's voice trailed off and he frowned, his bushy eyebrows beetling. She's a good girl, but it's been only a short time she's been here. Not even three years now. Her memories haven't faded enough. Not yet. He grunted and looked at Odette carefully, then jerked his head. Awfully skinny, aren't you? A good meal'd do you good. Stomping off down the corridor, not waiting for Odette to respond, Ivan led her off towards the dining room where the Prince was waiting for her. tag