“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.”