Princess by Gaelen Foley

quarrel in the ballroom hours ago. She was still shaken by the realization that perhaps they were no more true friends to her than the rest of her coterie, who valued her chiefly, she knew, because proximity to royalty boosted their own status. She had asked the girls to come to Moscow with her to bolster her courage for the first few months in her new home, but at once they had given her excuses.
    “We’re both so sorry. We just can’t do it,” Cara explained earnestly. “I can’t leave my family.”
    “It’s my health,” Els said hastily. “I always get sick in the cold. I would die under all that snow—unless I had a man like your Anatole to keep me warm,” she teased.
    “You’re welcome to him,” Serafina replied dryly. “Well, never mind. It was just an idea. No hard feelings.”
    “Are you sure?” Els asked prettily.
    “I’m sure.”
    “I don’t see what fault anyway you find with that golden god you are marrying,” Els told her. “He’s perfect. Besides, he’s rich, famous . . .”
    “He’ll be away at war most of the time,” Cara offered helpfully.
    “She’s right,” Els said, then paused. “But if you really don’t fancy him . . . I think you may have found your solution.”
    “What do you mean?” Serafina asked.
    “After you are married, take him,” she said carefully, glancing at Darius, “for your lover.”
    Serafina turned pale.
    Els laughed. “Why not?” she whispered. “It’s the obvious solution. You must have a lover, of course. All truly elegant women have lovers.”
    Serafina recovered her composure abruptly. “I’m afraid Russia is not like Italy, darling. The men there are too uncivilized for modern marriages.”
    She had been warned by Anatole himself.
    “Simple. Then you’ll just have to sneak.”
    Serafina burst out in shocked, appalled laughter. “You are so wicked! Oh, Els! How shall I live without you?” She gave her a big hug.
    “Serafina!” her mother called suddenly.
    “Coming!” she answered. She looked back at them in distress. “Don’t forget to stop by and visit Kwee-Kwee, and give Bianca some catnip. Write to me!”
    “Where will you be if we need you?” Cara asked earnestly.
    Serafina almost blurted it out, unused to hiding anything from her friends, but she saw a disturbing flicker of something in Cara’s blue eyes that reminded her of Darius’s warning. “Some country hovel. I don’t really know where.”
    Inwardly, Serafina frowned to herself. Surely she had imagined that fleeting, hard look in her fair-haired friend’s expression, she thought, for even now Cara was giving her another worried frown of concern. “If you can’t have any chaperons, at least I ought to come with you. I can be ready in a few minutes—”
    Serafina squeezed her hand. “Thank you, I wish you could, but Darius is being strict about this. He says it’s too dangerous.”
    “Serafina!” the queen called again, starting toward them.
    “Uh-oh, let’s get out of here,” Els murmured guiltily, knowing full well that the queen disapproved of her ever since she had seduced the crown prince a few months ago.
    Charming Rafe had bragged of it high and low, but after the queen caught wind of it, he’d been like a dog with his tail between his legs. Serafina had had to argue for all she was worth for Els to be allowed to stay at Belfort and remain in her company.
    Cara, on the other hand, beamed at the queen and went sailing over to her. Serafina often thought that Cara would have been the perfect daughter for Mama instead of herself, for they were a hopeless pair of goody-goodies.
    Els gave Serafina a quick kiss on the cheek. “Be safe,” she whispered, then vanished.
    When Serafina joined the other two, Cara took leave of her with a hug. “Godspeed, dearest,” she said, then hurried off.
    Serafina was left standing with her mother.
    If someone as self-centered, pleasure-loving, and lazy as herself held anything sacred, Serafina reflected, it was her