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.
“He’s still in the park.” Xavier tilted his phone toward me to reveal a rough map of the zoo.
“What’s this?” I asked. My eyes scanned the screen and landed on the blue pulsing dot.
“It was Santiago’s idea,” he said tensely. “With his mother and his hunger… we didn’t want to lose track of him.”