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“This room could stand to be redone next,” Alexei says.
That makes me laugh. “It’s like the color blue got the flu and threw up everywhere.”
Alexei’s eyes are dancing. “And I love blue—hello, water powers.”
“Kris already did that room.” Mirdza’s frowning.
“Oh.” I snort. “Well, it’s lovely.”
Alexei laughs, too. “Maybe we could call it the ocean room.”
“Can your powers speed redecorating?” I’m kidding, but I’m also genuinely curious how they work.
“Follow me outside, and I’ll show you.”
“Can you even get outside of this place?” I whisper. “Because I got lost trying to go from the dining room back to here.”
“Compared to the winter palace, this place is a hovel,” he says.
“A hovel? Really?” I roll my eyes. “Lesson one in your assimilation. Don’t use the word hovel.”
“Really?”
“I’m pretty sure only authors trying to show off use words like that these days,” I say.
“That’s a shame. A broad vocabulary is a hallmark of the educated mind.”
“Educated?” I snort. “Or snobby?”
“Educated,” Alexei insists, hanging a right at the end of the hall, and by golly—he found a door that dumps us outside.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding. You already know your way around.”
“To be fair, Aleks merely renovated his now-very-old family home, so I’ve known my way around this place for quite some time.”
“I haven’t renovated my family home yet,” I say. “But when I do, boy. You’ll be impressed.”
“I’m sure that I will.” Alexei looks entirely serious.
“No.” I follow him outside, and then I stop. “It’s a joke, man. I don’t have a family home. Normal people don’t have family homes.”
“Everyone has a family home,” he says. “It’s where your family lived when you were growing up. It’s where they live now.”
I shake my head. “Sorry to disappoint, but we lived in a sequence of apartments, none of which were owned by us. And now my mom’s sponging off Kristiana’s dad, living in one of the apartments they built for the grooms who help with the horse stalls, but doing no work to earn it.”
“Oh.” Alexei frowns.
“It’s fine, though. I’m teasing you. It was meant to be ironic.”
“Ah, yes. Irony—the use of language that usually means the opposite of what you intend,” he says.
This acclimation’s going to take a little longer than I originally thought. “You’re a real hoot.”
“Ah, more irony. Yes, I saw it right away this time.”
“Actually, that’s sarcasm, because I’m mocking you as well.”
“Of course,” he says. “Well done.”
