“She’s angry because I won’t be her prince,” Viktor mutters while digging a finger into the sand. Mariya’s chin begins to quiver, and she crosses her arms over her chest. I have to tighten my grip on Alexei’s arm as his body tenses. “My heart hurts,” Mariya sniffles, making my heart squeeze. Viktor glances at her, and then he scoots a little closer. Leaning forward, he stares at Mariya’s face. “Why are you crying?” he asks, his voice sweet as pie. “Because you’re mean.” Viktor wraps his arm around Mariya’s shoulders, then he says, “Okay, I’ll be your prince.” Instantly a triumphant smile
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