Page 15 of The Stallion & The Tigress
The king chuckled and smiled fondly at her.“Do not take her assurances too lightly, Aleksandr,” he said.“Lasair has both the speed and endurance of her dam and sire, asdoes our daughter.”
“I can assure you, your majesty, I do nottake anything about the princess lightly, which is why I haveintruded on your family table.”Aleksi dipped his head to Sahar.Hecould display manners as princely as Yago when he wished to.“Willthis evening do to meet with your head cook?Ratter is mindingZolotoy and Kiska, so our conversation will not be rushed, if youdo not already have other plans.”
He had her, he knew it, and so did she.Shesmiled and stood.Honey could have dripped from her lips, or venom.“Follow me,” she said, sweeping past him.
With a quick dip of his head to her fatherand mother, Aleksi walked behind Sahar, admiring the twitch of herskirts as she led him out of the salon, a hundred pair of eyesboring into the back of his head.
The kitchen was easily twice as large as thekitchens in his father’s palace, with not one, but four long worktables.One for fruits and vegetables, one for grains, one for eggsand cheeses, and another for meat that was closest to the door tothe outside ovens and roasting pits.There were six women workingat the grain table rolling out flatbreads to be baked for themorning meal, and another four going through baskets of pears andapples, while three of the younger serving maids were busyscrubbing the meat table clean.A tall, slim woman in a plain tunicand skirt covered by a crisp work apron, her gray hair pinned up ina tight bun, turned around from inspecting the cheese larder as thewomen’s lively chatter slowed and quieted.Spying Sahar and Aleksi,she stopped and stood still for a long moment before greeting them.“Princess Sahar,” she said with a dip of her head.“This isMaksimillian’s son, Aleksandr?”the woman asked.
“Yes, it is.He’s come to speak with you, ifyou have the time.”
“I do.”She stepped from the side of thetable and held her hand out to Aleksi.“It is a pleasure to meetyou, Aleksandr,” she said with an open smile.“I’m Anya, and Ithank you for taking the time and trouble to speak with an oldwoman about her homeland.”
“It is no trouble, mistress.I wish to thankyou for the goat milk you have spared for my little Kiska.”
“A kitten?”she said, glancing from Aleksi toSahar.“That’s who the milk was for?”
“I have a soft spot for kittens,” Aleksisaid, winking at Sahar, whose tawny cheeks flushed instantlypink.
“Do you?”Anya asked as a fat, orange tabbywandered over and wrapped itself around her ankles.She shuffledthe cat aside and then indicated a small table with four chairs,the closest thing to a quiet corner in the kitchen.“Let’s sit andtalk.Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”
“Oh no, thank you.”Aleksi rubbed his belly.“I ate too much supper as it is.Compliments to you and your staffon the delicious meals you serve.”
Anya took the seat beside Sahar’s.“I’ll besure to tell them.It’s always good to hear that our efforts areappreciated.”She glanced at Sahar with a quick smile.“Somethingthe queen is generous and gracious about.”
Aleksi sat and straightened his legs tobetter to help his overfed belly digest.“The princess tells me youand your family came here from the Northern Steppes some twentyyears ago?”
Anya nodded.“Yes, my husband Yuri and I,along with our son, Arman, who was but a babe at the time, thoughit is closer to twenty and five years now since we left.”
“What part of the Steppes are you from?”
“We both worked at Maksimillian’s palace,which was how we met.I was a maid servant and Yuri a smithy.”
“You knew my father then?”
She nodded.“We did, and the queen and herdaughters.”
“Did you know my mother?”
The question seemed to surprise her, almostas much as it surprised Aleksi that he had asked it.
“No, not that I remember,” she said.“Why doyou ask?”
Aleksi glanced at Sahar, who was listeningintently.“I never knew her either,” he said with a voice ofpracticed indifference.“She left when I was but a day old and wasnever spoken of again, at least not to me.I never even knew hername.”
He’d never asked.Growing up in the palace,he’d never really felt the lack of a mother he had never known.When he was a stable boy, what good would knowing her name havedone him?
Anya laid a work-roughened hand on hisforearm.“Did they treat you well?”she asked.“The king and hiswives?”
“I was raised as a prince until I was ten andtwo,” he told her.“Then my father’s second wife gave him alegitimate princeling and heir.I was made a stable boy, and workedwith Serge and Pyotr, who travelled here with me.”
As a boy, Aleksi had never considered why hisfather had arranged for Serge and Pyotr to become stable boysalongside his bastard son.For them, coming from families of poorfield workers, the positions had been a step up, while he had beenbrought low.But now, as a man, Aleksi understood that his fatherhad given him the gift of camaraderie and friendship.What he didnot and never would understand was how his father could havedeprived Aleksi of his mother’s love, and then his own.
“That must have been hard for you,” Anyasaid.
Aleksi shrugged.“It kept me out of thequeen’s sight and reach.”
“She always was a right bitch, thatTheodesia,” Anya said, and then clapped her hand over her mouth,her eyes wide with horror.
