the bug prince

“Nu-now I see you tu-take the role of a wu-wife with your nagging.” Borislav grumbled, sinking against the man propping him up, who now had to work in ernest. “Is thu-that any way to speak to a mu-man?”

The momentary distraction was all the distraction the Dashkov manservant needed, coming to grip his master’s failing form as the young man tried to focus on who spoke. 

“Yes, yes, VERY. You are not married, are you, my lord?”

“Nu-no. Can’t outdu-do my elder bru-others, after all.” Fidgeting, he looked away, not bothering to mention most fathers didn’t even look at him as a possible groom. What might these girls be like if Pavlov was pressuring him?

Marina hadn’t had a moment to herself in days, constantly entertaining well-wishers who only wanted to discuss her engagement, her wedding, and worse, her marriage. It was going to be a long time before she could speak to anyone without feeling like she was lying or wearing a mask, but there was one person she knew she could speak to, one she assumed hadn’t heard the news yet. After asking about him in the last place she’d seen him, Marina found herself being announced at his chamber door, nodding her thanks to his servant. “Boris,” she said as she entered, moving closer to his bed, “I feared the worst when you weren’t where I left you. You should have told me you were moved. Are you feeling better?”

To be cloistered in his room was far from the painful experience that Borislav thought it might be in the early hours of his confinement. Yes, there was a distinct lack of company but he was too tired to face the hordes of other courtiers at the moment. In the privacy of his apartments there were less expectations, less pressure. He could read his books in peace and fall asleep whenever he wanted.

“Shhh,” she said, reaching out to turn the rag over on his forehead. Marina lowered her hand on his arm, pulling his hand into her lap by his wrist. She slipped her fingers through his and gave him a comforting squeeze, letting her thumb rub against his hand. “You don’t have to be so modest, Boris, you can take some credit now and then. Just relax, I’m here to make you feel better, not worse.”

How could he possibly relax with her tender face above him, and her soft hands holding his? “Su-sorry,” he muttered, eyes captivated by her expression but fluttering as sleep crept up to hold him tightly. “Hu-how kind, Pu-princess.”

“Well, I cannot say I would take a stab for any of my brothers,” she teased playfully, winking at him as she smiled. “

Abashment lept onto his face, the sick coil of shame of misunderstanding, and delight at her wink sending his stomach twisting. “Oh, um, nu-no. I wu-was caught unaware.”

“Yes, yes. They’re all very lively, very lovely. My eldest most so. She has inherited everything from her mother — very blessed indeed.”

“Of course,” Borislav grit, trying to hide his utter boredom. “Chu-charming, the lu-lot of them, surely.”

How pathetic it was he hadn’t even the strength to return his brother’s affectionate gesture! Closing his eyes, Borislav merely nodded, Konstantin’s warm hand a lifeline of hope and acceptance. How long had it been since he’d had a drink?

Konstantin watched as Boris drifted off before sighing softly and shaking his head. He pushed himself up from beside his bed and went to find a pair of servants to help move Boris back to their appartments as soon as possible. 

“I suppose we’re all fools in one way or another.” Admittedly, it was heartwarming to have someone show so much unabashed worry for her. So heartwarming in fact, that Sofiya had to swallow a lump in her throat. “If it’s any comfort for your nerves, the guards are highly trained and unshakably dedicated.”

His nerves were not comforted ; in fact, it felt as if his heart may very well burst from his chest, do a spiteful jig on his ribs and scream loudly into his ear until he died. Borislav, sadly, did not feel this to be out of the realm of possibility, given his life history.

To say Sofiya was taken aback by her brother’s sudden mood change was an understatement. Just seconds ago they were smiling about her newfound freedom yet Borislav had turned so quickly. Like a storm cloud that blocked the sun. “I’ll thank you not to call me a fool, brother, for I am anything but.” The claim was up for debate, but pride compelled the Countess to make it regardless.

“Yu-you are one,” he lamented sadly, voice torn with unshed and fearful tears. Borislav shook his head adamantly, the room swimming in warning as he tried to deny her actions. It was far too late, but sense had little hold with him now as his heart was gripped with all-consuming panic. 

He frowned at the obvious upset and shook his head quickly. “Boris, stop, it’s fine,” He said, taking his hand and squeezing it comfortingly. “I’m fine. Completely,” He promised. 

How pathetic it was he hadn’t even the strength to return his brother’s affectionate gesture! Closing his eyes, Borislav merely nodded, Konstantin’s warm hand a lifeline of hope and acceptance. How long had it been since he’d had a drink?

Sofiya’s hard gaze roamed over Boris;av’s face, noting his paler than usual complexion and the dark circles under his eyes. Her brother was a shadow of the man she’d last seen over a year ago. At the mention of her late husband, the Countess leaned in close and smiled, her eyes shone with a sparkle that had been absent for many years. “Yes, Boris. It’s good. Very good.” There was not point in playing the role of heartbroken wife around one of the few people who knew how deeply she’d despised Arkady. It was a moment where she could happily do away with pretenses.

To see such joy on his sister’s face, Borislav was able to summon up a ghostly smile, minuscule and fleeting but there all the same. He gave her a nod, hand seeking hers to offer comfort and understanding. “I’m gu-glad,” came his offer. Had he not lived underneath the room of domineering men? Did he not understand being trodden upon? That Sofiya now had such freedom from her husband made his sickened heart lighter with the news. 

Hearing that her little brother had such difficulty voicing a simple sentence, worry clutched Sofiya’s heart even tighter in it’s embrace. She pressed a hand to her chest as she regarded Borislav for several moments, charmed considerably by how happy he seemed because of her presence, but wary of his sickly pallor.

His blinks were long and sluggish, eyes focusing tiredly on Sofiya as she had a chair procured, joining him by the window. A rippling intake of breath forced its way into his lips, tears lining the edge of his lashes as he regarded his sister. A lump formed in his throat as he shook his head. 

There was little question of which brother Sofiya would seek out as soon as she saw her children settled in their rooms. Aleksei and Konstantin would keep, but news of Borislav’s injury had recently reached her ears and the Countess was eager to see the state he was in. He was alive at least, that much she knew for sure. How well he was clinging to life was a matter more shrouded in uncertainty.

Having spent long hours trapped in fever, Borislav did not immediately register the presence of his sister. Her specter was not as common as that of their mother, yet still Sofiya’s image had come to him in the heat. That’s all she was now, he was assured. Travel was becoming increasingly dangerous and why on earth would she risk coming here of all places?