220 Grace: Princess
220 Grace: Princess
“Did you fight anyone?” the younger boy demands, eyes wide with bloodthirsty curiosity. 1
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. 1
“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.
pure
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.
220 Grace: Princess
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
The rhythm of her jumps and shouts has almost lulled me into a meditative state when the door swings open with enough force to make me jolt upright, jerky hanging forgotten from my mouth.
There’s no mistaking her heartbreak over her lack of princess title, and I bite back a laugh as I get off the couch and guide Ron out of the hall and into the living room proper, though I level a disappointed glance at the front door he’s closed behind him. But, of course, I’m ‘not his mate. And he seems determined to stick to the script, even if his execution is… flawed.
“Sorry. I’ll make sure she’s in bed early tomorrow.”
“You can be the royal pain in my-” Ron starts, but catches my warning look and redirects, “-royal advisor.”
220 Grace. Princess
Wasn’t he… angry?
“No ba!” she mocks, shaking a finger in his face like he’s the one who did something
bad.
“Ron!” Bun screams, abandoning her cushion game instantly with her arms stretched toward him.
“Yeah, Sara the Hedgehog.” Jer lifts his lip in a sneer. “You’re too little to be a Duchess, They have to be, like, fifty years old.”
“A blood… transfusion?” Her forehead wrinkles. “Why?”
But now we have clean laundry, and Super Nanny–whose name, I remember now, is Randy–not–Randall–is not only fantastic with the children, but even conjured a savory and aromatic beef stew out of nowhere, making it so I don’t even have to worry about
dinner.
How the hell am I supposed to know?! But I grab my phone and look it up.
My lips twitch as he attacks her face with kisses, making her squeal. Then he gives me a stern look and says, “It’s past her bedtime.”
I clear my throat, reading off the results of my search: “Duchesses can wear coronets, which are basically little crowns.”
A little worried, I try to shush the kids before he has a heart attack. “Guys, let’s stop joking around.”
He barely spares a glance for Dylan and Randy, so I guess he already knew they were here. Makes sense, if he was by Caine’s side all day.
“Am not!”
Sara gasps dramatically, one hand flying to her chest as her red eyes go wide. “If Ron’s a prince.. Does that make me a princess?”
For a split second, I’m worried it’s Rafe again, even though logically I know it’s impossible because we locked the door.
Even if there is a niggling sense of doubt and worry making its way into my head, along with a healthy heaping of reluctant responsibility. After all, the man said he basically
end; only a complete dick wouldn’t feel a little guilty after gave up his pack to be my
220 Grace, Princess
hearing that.
“Yeah,” the youngest of them echoes, “explain the political structure of Lycan society to us!” He pronounces ‘political structure‘ with careful precision, clearly a phrase he’s picked up recently and is proud to deploy.
Then she grabs Ron’s other arm, shaking it urgently. “I need to know, Ron. This is important for my future. Am I a princess?”
“Princess!” Bun declares with perfect diction as she throws a hand up. “Yay!”
The Lycan smashes his fist against the table, and we all flinch, except Randy and Bun.
“No, you’re the clown,” she says dismissively, cutting off his joy and importance before it can go anywhere.
“Duchesses don’t have crowns.”
“It was…” He pauses, searching for words. “Different than I expected.”
“Then how does it work?” she demands, unwilling to let go of potential royalty status so easily.
Randy looks guilty from where he’s standing in the kitchen. “Miss Harper wanted to wait until you were home…”
He strides forward and scoops her up in one fluid motion, swinging her high as she shrieks with delight, completely unguarded. “Bun–Bun! Did you miss me?”
And it makes my skin crawl.
But since this is his pack and territory, I’m pretty sure he’s fine. Maybe.
“Different important, I guess? I learned a lot.”
I did not send him to bring–your–son–to–work–day in a suit. No idea where he got it. Caine, obviously, but still–where?! I used to live here, and we don’t exactly have a plethora of suit stores.
Ron shifts Bun to his hip, where she immediately grabs a fistful of his hair and tugs. He doesn’t even flinch. “It’s complicated.”
Is it just me, or is her speech improving at an unusual rate? I need a parenting book.
220 Grace: Princess
The App is as cryptic as he is!
She rolls her eyes at me with such exaggeration, I almost feel offended. “Duh, they’re wolves, Grace. Wolves howl at the moon.”
Oh, silly me.
“You’re the idiot!” she retorts, stomping a foot as she flings his arm away from her. “It’s a valid question!”
“We’re complicated, Sara counters, hands on her hips. “Try us.”
Well… not the pterodactyls or crocodiles. But the rest, yes.
Sara suddenly announces out of nowhere, apparently still stewing over her lack of princesshood, “Fine. I don’t have to be a princess. But I should at least be a Duchess.”
“One!” she shrieks, leaping from the left cushion.
Every time I pick up anything weighing more than a piece of paper, there’s a Lycan there to grab it from me and offer their help. Randy doesn’t seem to have the slightest hint of an ulterior motive whatsoever, just perfectly content to play babysitter while I sit around and watch him do it.
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