– Hurrah! Maria! You're here! – Cedric shouted and rushed over to me. I grabbed him in my arms, and he wrapped his thin arms around my neck. – I'm three years old! I'm a big boy!
– Of course, Cedric, you're a big boy, but it's too early for you to play games like this," Mariszka said in an affectionate tone. But she looked as if she was afraid of the fact that Cedric had even spoken to me. As if I could turn him into an exact copy of me. So I gently placed Cedric in her arms. But how unpleasant. Mariszka has a way of ruining the mood. Me.
– But, Mummy! Daddy said it was okay! – Cedric said in a resentful tone.
– Well, you've played a little, and now be a good boy, okay? – Mariszka kissed her son on the top of his head.
– I will! – Cedric hurried to get off his mother's arms, but suddenly turned to me. – Your dress is so beautiful, Maria, so shiny!
– Thank you, baby, I like it and your mum likes it too," I winked at him again, knowing that Mariszka was clearly not happy with her son's words.
Good kid. It would be a shame if Mariszka turned him into a copy of herself. I hope Markus won't let that happen.
– I like your dress too, but it's too short," Misha said to me.
– It's a little shorter than yours, just half a palm," I replied ironically. – Well, it's time to see Daddy. Where is he?
– In the other room with Fredrik and Markus's parents, – Mariszka told me. – I have to go away for a while. Have fun.
And she headed in the direction her son had run off in.
– Was that irony, or does she really think her party is a fun place to be? – I asked Misha quietly and winked at her.
Misha smiled silently and elbowed me in the side.
We went into the second great hall, called the "little drawing room" in the Morgan castle, and, as Mariszka had told us, we found Fredrik, our father, and the Morgan elders there. They were discussing something, reclining in large blue-covered armchairs. But as I remembered from the last time I'd been here, the chairs were different. Black. Impressive. Gloomy. Like the castle itself. But I immediately realised what had caused these new blue chairs – Mariszka's excellent taste. Excellent, but boring. Markus's parents had finally moved on, ceding the throne to Mariszka, and dared to infringe on the sacred – Mr. Morgan's favourite armchairs.
The first person I glanced at after looking at the chairs was Fredrik. I smiled: he was still as cold and calm as I'd always known him to be. I guess Misha and her temperament only makes him happy, because he loves solving problems so much. When did we have an affair… Was it really twelve years ago? But I remember it as vividly as if we broke up only yesterday. When Fredrik was with me, he was eager to decide everything for both of us. But I'm not Misha. I was attracted to him, but it wasn't a love that would make me a blind slave. No, I'm not saying my little sister is his slave. It's just that she's so in love with him that sometimes she lets him take over and surrender to his decisions. Like their move to Stockholm, for example. Misha confessed to me that this city frightens her a little with the number of people (though should she be frightened of them?) and that she would prefer to live in Oxford, which she loves so much despite the fact that it was there that she had her first bad experience with mortals. But Fredrik "affectionately" insisted on moving to Stockholm. The first week after their move, Misha did not speak to her husband, but then she forgot her offence. She knows how to forgive.
