220 Grace: Princess
“Did you fight anyone?” the younger boy demands, eyes wide with bloodthirsty curiosity.
Jer even managed to get the more reticent Dylan into an entire conversation about how pterodactyls and crocodiles are basically, in a weird way, cousins. I’m not entirely certain I believe him, but the kid’s so convincing I kind of think he might be right, too.
It’s all so very peaceful, so very peaceful….
But, judging by the way his face softens as he looks at Bun, he’s… not.
“What’s with the suit? Are you, like, a prince now?” Jer asks, grabbing Ron’s sleeve and tugging. “Because Caine’s like a king, right? So that makes you a prince!“.
“Different good or different bad?”
“Well, you need a blood transfusion first.”
He laughs. “No, and no.”
But no, it isn’t Rafe at all. It’s Ron, and his usually stoic face is flushed, his eyes bright with inner fire. He even looks an inch or two taller all of a sudden, though it might be the suit he’s wearing.
Though watching Bun–all rabbit ears, golden retriever tail, and manic toddler energy—temporarily pushes everything else aside.
I roll my eyes back, but she tosses her head back to Ron. “Well? Did you?”
“That’s still not how it works, Sare–Bear.”
He wants me to do it quickly, but how can I do it without any information at all?!
“If the girl wants to be a princess, let her be a princess!” he roars, his face crimson.
“Yes they do!” Sara turns to me with a pout. “Don’t they?”
Ron sighs. “Do you guys really think we’re part of the British royal family or something? That’s not how it works.”
My face freezes into a weird expression. I can feel my mouth smiling, but I know my
220 Grace: Princess
eyebrows are twitching like crazy, “Why would they howl at the moon, Sara?”
I sigh, then shake it off to focus on the person I haven’t seen all day. “How was it, really? You seem like you enjoyed it.”
Bun leans forward and bites his shoulder, and he winces. “Ouch, Bun! No biting!”
By ten, my brain is in shambles and Bun’s turned into a couch–hopping banshee with bunny ears and a golden retriever’s tail. Dylan and Randy haven’t even blinked at her odd shifting, and Sara and Jer are comfortable enough to be their normal selves in front of them.
“I’ll take it!” Sara crows, turning to point at Ron. “Suck it! I’m a Duchess!”
In the end, the rest of the day passes without further incident.
No clarifying update appears on my phone, either, leaving me exasperated. And Caeriel hasn’t answered any of the ten messages I’ve sent his way, asking for an explanation on the gibberish he calls a new mission.
“I’ll be the royal scientist,” Jer announces, puffing out his chest. “I’ll make weapons and potions and—”
“Are too!”
“Advisor?” She scoffs. “I want a crown.”
I was under the impression Caine would come in after bringing Ron back–2
“Uh-”
Dylan, on the other hand, is very clearly judgmental of every move I make, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t exactly like me. But he treats me well and hasn’t slipped once in his treatment of me.
“Because you’d need to drain all of yours and fill it with Lycan blood, stupid.” Ron flicks her forehead with a smile, taking some of the sting out of his words.
After peacefully restocking dressers and showering the children, Super Nanny even has the kitchen cleaned and dishes done.
Dylan, meanwhile, has cleaned the litter box every time the cat uses it, and takes Sadie out every thirty minutes to run around in the grass. He’s even thoughtfully picked up her little chocolate doggy bomb out of the yard from this morning.
I gnaw on a piece of beef jerky–something Dylan brought, not the kind in packages we bought at Walmart–as my mind bounces around all these things taking up prime anxiety real estate.
Ron rolls his eyes, but there’s no hiding the smile tugging at his mouth. “No, squirt. That’s not how it works.”
Andrew, on the other hand… no idea what he’s doing. They wouldn’t let him in.
“Two!” she announces proudly, landing on the right.
Jer and Sara converge on him like excited puppies, practically bouncing off the floor.
If he’s not, then he probably has a great future as a car salesman.
But what happened to my aloof teenage boy and why did a young man walk through my door?
“Did Caine make you howl at the moon?” Sara cuts in, not waiting for an answer to Jer’s question.
Somehow, the misinformation surrounding royalty is only getting worse, and Dylan looks like he’s positively apoplectic as he fidgets in his spot at the dinette.
“Don’t wait for me next time,” Ron says seriously, frowning at me. “Her schedule’s been messed up, and she really needs a consistent bedtime.” 2
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