“Simi,” Georgi says, pulling her attention away from me. My eyes dart back to his face, and he looks right at me as he asks her, “What does your mama like to drink?”
“I don’t know.” She pats my arm. “Mama, do you like juice too?”
Wanting this conversation to stop, I admit, “I like tea. No sugar.”
“Finally,” Georgi mutters under his breath, then he grins at Simi. “Thanks for the help,printsesa.”
I keep a vigilant eye on Georgi as he pours tea into a cup.
“Milk?” he asks.
“No, thank you.”
The cup looks small in his hand as he brings it to the table. He sets it down right by me, then lifts an eyebrow, and it feels like a silent order for me to drink every last drop.
Not having much of a choice, I pick up the tea and sip on it, my other hand still on Simi’s shoulder.
Georgi goes to sit on the armchair and stretches out his left leg, pain tightening his features. His gaze flicks to me.
“Does she understand English?”
I shake my head.
“Why are you being so stubborn about eating and drinking something?”
“Because there’s always a price to pay.”
Simi pats my arm, then says, “I’m full, Mama. What must I do?”
“You can color more, if you like?”
She leans even closer and whispers, “Won’t I get in trouble for wasting food?”
“Never,” Georgi answers. “Just leave the leftovers,printsesa.”
She slips off the chair and walks to Georgi. “Must I call youprints?”
He shakes his head and leans forward, resting his right forearm on his thigh. “No, you can call me Georgi.”
With the innocence of a child, she rubs her fingers over his sleeve, as if she’s liking the feel of the silk fabric. “Where is your palace?”
“In New York. Have you heard of it?”
Simi shakes her head and continues to rub his shirt between her index finger and thumb. “No. Is it near the Enchanted Forest where Snow White lives? Do you know her?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t.”
When Simi yawns, I get up and walk to her. “Are you tired?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to miss flying to the castle.”
“You won’t,” Georgi replies. “Take a nap while I talk to your Mama.”
She glances at the bed, then back at where she’s still rubbing his shirt between her fingers.
“Santino,” Georgi calls, and a moment later, the door opens. “Bring one of my shirts with the same silk fabric as the one I’m wearing.”
The guard nods and disappears down the hallway.
