You shook your head emphatically. “I don’t want to tell you, Henri. You’ll be mad at me.”
“I won’t be mad at you. I only want to help.”
Your lower lip wobbled, and your eyes filled with tears. “Because…”
“Because?”
“Because I wanted to cut him,” you said in a rush of passion and quickly looked away in shame.
I recalled the bandage across Carter’s knuckles and immediately understood. You’d goaded the boy into conflict for a sampling of his blood.
“I didn’t bite him,” you said with a look of contrition.
“But you cut him with your teeth?” I asked and you nodded slowly. “Did you taste him?”
You nodded, eyes pooling. “I told him if he didn’t let me, I’d tell on him for hitting me.” You swept your tongue across your lips as though trying to collect whatever flavor might remain. “Please don’t tell Daddy. Or Papa.”
The dam broke then, and you burst into tears. The temptation was simply too great. I unbuckled our seatbelts.
“I won’t tell them, darling. Come here.” I reached out for an embrace. You scrambled over the center console to hug me, throwing your sweaty arms around my neck and squeezing tightly. When you were calm, I drew your gaze toward mine and whispered softly, “I will not cut people with my teeth.” I said it twice more as I pet your head soothingly.
“I will not cut people with my teeth,” you repeated in a daze. Your black eyes, still rimmed with tears, blinked slowly as if waking from a dream. I prayed my seduction would hold.
A few days later, I asked how your relationship with the boys was progressing, hoping there’d been no more physical altercations or spilled blood. Your report was less than enthusiastic.
“It’s fine, but I don’t want to sit with them anymore. They’re too boring.”
“Vincent,” I reprimanded.
“I know. Mater told me already.”
“Told you what?” A prickle of fear raised the hair on the back of my neck.
“She said a prince must spend time with all his subjects.”
“Mater said you were a prince?”
You glanced over at me with uncertainty. “Yes.”
Was this another of Lena’s schemes? The fact that I didn’t know her intentions had me analyzing her every word and deed, veering from obsession to paranoia. But I didn’t see any harm in you believing yourself a prince. It was the truth, for our bloodline was certainly royal—descended from gods.
“Mater is right. And as a prince, it’s your job to be aware of everything going on in your kingdom, including Boylandia.” You giggled at that. “So, you should sit with the boys at least once a week. That’s how you maintain diplomacy.”
“What’s diplomacy?”
“Diplomacy is being polite to people you might not like.”
You sat with that for a bit. “If I’m the prince, does that make Papa and Daddy the kings?”
“Papa and Daddy are your parents, but they are not the kings. Mater is the queen, which makes you a prince.”
“Then you must be a prince too?”
I considered it, but ultimately rejected the notion. “I’m your knight, like Lancelot and King Arthur. My job is to protect you and make sure you are able to reign one day as king.”
“I have to knight you,” you said excitedly. You dashed inside the house and retrieved your fencing sword and a crown you’d fashioned for one of your many cat funerals. It resembled, not accidentally, a Papal tiara. Knotted around your throat was an extravagant-looking silk fabric that rippled and flowed like crimson waves behind you. I could only imagine Santiago’s displeasure at discovering you’d dragged his expensive bedsheets along the dirty ground.
You instructed me to kneel in front of you, and I had to go down rather low so that you might stand taller than me—you were a slight thing. Your cat clan surrounded us as you announced in a regal voice, “I, Prince Vincent Rodrigues of Miamiland, dub you, Henri Cherusci, my number one knight.”
Your foil passed from one shoulder to the other as I bowed deeply and took my oath with more reverence than you could possibly imagine.
“I accept you, Vincent Rodrigues, as my prince and future king. I pledge before this royal court to serve you with absolute loyalty and defend you with my life.”
With only your cats as witnesses, the moment nonetheless felt weighted with promise as I lifted my gaze to find you staring at me with a pensive expression.
Your newfound power went straight to your head, and your first demand as Prince of Miamiland was to compel me to cannonball with you into the swimming pool.
Naturally, I obliged.
5
Henri
Your papa and I took you on many excursions throughout your childhood, but there was one place you cherished above all others—the Miami zoo. The big cats were your favorite exhibits, and we’d loiter around their enclosures and let you observe the animals while Xavier and I caught up on recent events. Your budding seduction drew them right up to the barrier, which also attracted unwanted attention.
“Vincent,” Xavier called to you on one such occasion. “Back away, chico. I don’t like the way that animal is looking at you.”
The animal in question was a massive African lion with a thick, coarse mane and unflinching russet eyes. He stared at you as though you were challenging his authority.
“Not this one,” you said and turned back to where we were sitting.
“Not this one?” I said and gave your hand a squeeze. “What do you mean by that?”
Your eyes went wide as though I’d caught you at some mischief. “He doesn’t like me.”
I glanced back at the lion, still gazing at your back with a predatory look.
I steered us away from the lions and toward something more herbivorous.
“Can you talk to the lion?” I asked you while Xavier refreshed our drinks and found lunch from one of the park’s vendors.
“I told you already, I speak cat,” you said. Apparently, your talent extended to jungle cats as well.
“What do they say to you?” I asked with mounting concern. Not only did you have Lena whispering in your ear, but it seemed the feline family as well.
“They don’t talk like you and me. It’s more like a feeling. I know when my cats are scared or hungry or restless.”
“And that lion back there?”
“He didn’t want me on his land. He’s the king.”
Xavier returned, and we sat down for lunch. Toward the end of our meal you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. It was within our sight, so we let you go alone. Several minutes passed without your return, and I went to make sure you hadn’t gotten lost.
You were not in the bathroom.
I raced back to Xavier with my heart in my throat. Lena must have sent one of her fate demons to reclaim you. Or Lucian. You’d been kidnapped, right from under us. I relayed my fears to Xavier in a panic, and he pulled out his phone.
“We can’t involve the authorities,” I cautioned. We had to keep you out of human bureaucracies—no hospitals, no police, no evidence of your bloodborn body.