quite readily. “How would you feel if someone were to harm Rocky?”
“I… I wouldn’t like it.”
It seemed I wouldn’t need to go into any more detail than that. The boy was practically vibrating in terror.
“I wouldn’t like it either. And when I see you treat my friend Vincent poorly, it makes me so…” I paused, allowing the suspense to build. “Deeply upset.”
“I didn’t mean to hit him.” The boy swallowed. The vein in his neck throbbed with a strong, vibrant pulse. “I won’t do it again.”
I looked him over grimly, letting him think I might be debating whether or not I might exact retribution.
“I want you to do even better, Carter. I want you to invite Vincent to sit with you and your friends at lunch.”
The boy nodded eagerly. “Tomorrow. Or, Monday. Every day next week if he wants.”
“And I want you to apologize.”
Carter’s response was enthusiastic. “I will. I promise.”
I handed him back his ball and glowered at the other boys on the court. I’ll admit it wasn’t my finest moment, terrorizing school children, but it was in everyone’s best interest for Carter to treat you with respect.
When I rejoined you at the car, you only glanced at me sideways with a surreptitious look. “Was he mean to you?”
I shook my head. “I think he’s going to be a lot nicer to you from now on.”
During our car ride home, you wouldn’t stop fidgeting. I asked if you needed to use the restroom, and in an outpouring of emotion, you confessed to me that you’d teased Carter until he’d hit you.
I pulled over and laid a comforting hand on your shoulder because you were trembling. “Why would you do that, Vincent?”
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?”