“She’s very polite,” Tsiru humored.
“Thank you, Master.”
Corina rolled her eyes. “You know you don’t have to call everyone Master! Only yours, or he just might feel offended.”
“Damn right,” Tati said and threw his arm around Corina, who giggled and watered his cheek with kisses.
“Yes, Mistress. Master, I’m sorry.”
Corina raised an eyebrow at her then laughed. “Okay, I guess someone is a little bit nervous right now!”
“It’s okay, Alina,” Cotiso said. “Anyone would feel awkward among new company, there’s nothing to apologize for. How old are you?”
“I, I don’t know, Master.”
Corina said, “You don’t know your own age? Really?”
“I’m sorry, Mistress. I can’t count. Or read.”
Corina was lost for words for a moment. “Well, yes, but even so, you don’t actually have to count that!”
Maria said, in a more friendly tone, “I guess you’re eighteen? Or nineteen, maybe? I’m twenty-four, by the way.”
Tati added, “You know, we can tell from your accent that you’re a Dacian. But why do you speak like that?”
Corina followed with a smirk, “You sound like you swallowed a stone.”
“I, I just don’t speak much. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, M─”