“My dear
Prince!” cried Barishka, laughing of Varick’s blunt refusal “I think a man of
your station should realize that one can catch more flies with honey then with
vinegar, as they say.”
“Ah, but
Lady Barishka,” said the Prince, his voice and manner dripping with an
overabundance of sweetness, “I must ask what I’d do with a fly when I can have
something worth catching.”
The lady
seemed much taken aback by this and did not know how to respond. “I think that I—“
“Should
leave now,” said Chitt quietly, “and leave my
fiancé alone. For good.”
“Now
listen,” sneered Barishka, all pretense of sweetness gone from her now, “you
little—”
“I really
don’t think you wish to finish that sentence, my dear,” said Princess Lara
evenly, giving Barishka quite a serious look, “One does not do well to speak of
my family or dear friends like that—and with my brother’s engagement Lord Chitt
has become both. You have had your answer,
and have heard that same answer many times over the course of several years
now. The prince puts up with you for
reasons I do not know, but there is no reason Chitt should also have to deal
with you. I think that shall be the end
of your visit for today. Good afternoon.” And with that, the princess caught the
offending noble by the arm, dragged her to the doorway, and thrust her bodily
from the room. As Barishka righted
herself, her hand on the hilt of her blade, Lara slammed the door with such
force that a part of the frame splintered and she could hear the tinkle of
broken pottery in the hall. “You little
beast,” she added.
She turned,
slightly embarrassed. “I apologize,
brothers. That ‘lady’ has quite the
effective methods of getting the best of me, I fear.”
“I do not
think it’s intentional,” replied Varick, smiling, “for after all, I know of no
one who would like very much to lose a fight with our dear princess, and yet
she achieves that end more often than not.”
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