The Prince's Bride Part 2 - J.J. McAvoy Page 0,125

were in the playroom on the children’s floor. So far, I’d found out that Vicky was Victoria, the daughter of one of the doctors here and the ringleader between Leo and Orien, fraternal twins and whose parents worked in the hospital as well.

All of the parents were in surgery or busy right now, so I was waiting with the children. Somehow, little Victoria had tricked her father into believing they only wanted to play with the sick kids here. And so, they came during the afternoon after first grade or year one classes. Then at night, they searched the hospital to find me. Leo wanted someone to make him a knight. Orien, the sweetheart, wanted to see if I was okay and just say hi. Vicky, well, Vicky didn’t say why she wanted to, but I kind of had a feeling I knew why. It was funny. They were these happy, bright spots, kids being kids, going about their lives for adventure and fun.

“When I become a knight, don’t worry, Miss Odette, I’ll protect you,” Leo said, lifting his fist.

“You have to be smart to be a knight,” Vicky shot back.

“Then I will be smart,” he shot back.

“Do they always like to fight like this?” I asked Orien as he ate his chips.

He nodded. “Daddy says it’s because they like each other.”

“No.”

“Ew.”

Orien ignored them and looked at me. “Do you and the Adelaar fight a lot?”

“No.” I paused, thinking back to when we first met, then smiled. “Well, we kind of do actually.”

“See,” Orien said to them.

And they made faces at him.

“When do you become queen?” Victoria asked me, smartly changing the subject. For a seven-year-old, the little girl was sharp.

“Why? Don’t you like Queen Elspeth?”

“I like her,” she whispered with less confidence. “But when will it be you?”

I sucked on my juice box, but for once, they stopped talking to look at me with their undivided attention.

All I could do was shrug. “I don’t know if I want to be the queen.”

“Why?” Vicky yelled at me angrily.

“Why do you want me to be queen?”

Her face puffed up, and she crossed her arms.

“Because you have big hair,” Leo said.

“What?” I laughed.

“It’s like a lion.” Orien giggled. “Roar.”

Was I being made fun of?

“Vicky’s hair is big, too, but our teacher said she had to cut it or wear it less dis-dis-sacting?” Leo looked at his brother.

“Do you mean distracting?” I asked and looked at Vicky, who held her baseball cap tight.

“Yep, whatever that means.” Leo popped another chip into his mouth.

I looked back at Vicky, who was holding on to her cap for dear life. “Can I see your hair?”

“It’s ugly.”

“No hair is ever ugly,” I said back to her.

But she shook her head.

“She tried to make it straight like yours before, but it didn’t work,” Orien whispered into my ear. “She had to cut it.”

I didn’t know what he meant until Leo grabbed her cap. “See, she said no hair is ugly, and it’s not that bad!”

Her hair was short now, a small little curly top.

“Give it back, Leo!” she screamed, grabbing her hat and putting it back onto her head.

“I think it looks nice.” I smiled, cupping her face. “And if you want it long, it will grow back. Big hair is also a lot of work. My mom has to help me with mine.”

“My mommy isn’t here anymore,” she muttered, and I was just failing up and down apparently. “Daddy tries, but he needs more practice.”

“You both do, apparently.” I pinched her cheeks. “Don’t give up just because someone said something. Don’t go trying to copy people. It never works. You have to be you.”

Oh, dear God. I sounded like one of those holiday specials we’d all heard a thousand times, preaching clichés to the youth.

“See, not a big deal. Now can you help me become a knight?” Leo asked for the dozenth time, clearly frustrated.

I listened to them talk and laugh and tease each other for almost an hour before their parents came rushing. All of them were very apologetic and panicked that their children had “disturbed” me, but in all honesty, it was entertaining. I hadn’t spent much time with kids. So, seeing them talk fast, eat, and play was like an adventure of my own.

Victoria held on to her father, a thin, geeky-looking kind of guy with bright hazel eyes that hid behind thick-framed glasses.

“I hope she wasn’t overwhelming, ma’am,” he said to me in English with a heavy accent. “If so, I apologize. She’s