Reluctantly Royal

He closed his door and leaned against it with a look of relief. “Did he hurt Mama?”

“What?” My senses came alive, like a cornered dog. This was dangerous territory.

“Grandfather. Did he hurt my mom?” His little face was a thundercloud of rage. “I just wanna kick him so hard . . .”

Turning away from me, he kicked a toy across the room and clenched his little hands at his sides.

“No, your mom is okay.” I sat down on the bed and folded my hands in my lap. I thought the scariest thing in the world was my job as a prince, but it turned out that this, this right here, talking to Marty about his mother and grandfather made me break out into a cold sweat.

“Did you beat him up?” Marty looked at me with eyes that were too old for his little face. “I’m too little, but when I get bigger I’m going to make him sorry for being so mean to my mom.”

“I didn’t beat him up, Marty.” I looked around the room, trying to find the right words. “It wouldn’t have helped. The only way your grandfather is going to stop is if he realizes what he is doing is wrong.”

“You could show him what he is doing is wrong.” Marty looked at me with the angry eyes of his mother. “He makes my mama cry. I’m not supposed to know, but I do.”

I stared at the little boy, surprised by the mix of emotions running through my gut. Anger was definitely at the top of the mixture. Anger that this little boy was growing up too fast, rage that Meredith had spent so long dealing with this by herself. Had the old man, her grandfather, truly let her deal with all of this alone? I was half tempted to ask Marty, but that would be wrong. He needed to be protected, sheltered from this storm.

“I’m not going to let him hurt your mom again.” I looked him in the eyes so that he would know I was serious. And there it was. The moment I realized I was in deep trouble. Because I meant every word. I wouldn’t let that man downstairs hurt Meredith again. And I wouldn’t let Marty have to worry about his mother again.

“I knew you’d help.” The little boy launched himself across the room and into my unsuspecting arms.

“Oof.” I froze for a moment, surprised, and then wrapped my arms around him. I was blown away by his complete trust. When was the last time I had trusted someone so much? Someone other than family? “I’ll do my best.”

“Mom says that’s all anyone can do.” He shrugged and crawled out of my lap. “You want to play the race game?”

“Do you want to lose?” I raised an eyebrow as I took the controller he handed me. Relief flooded my system. Racing I could handle.

“No way.” He popped the game into the machine and waited for it to load. “I’ve been practicing.”

“Show me what you’ve got.” I narrowed my eyes.

“You asked for it.” He laughed maniacally, which prompted me to chuckle. The boy was a handful. Then again, considering his mother, you couldn’t expect anything else.

Time with Marty sped by faster than the cars on the screen. I shifted in my seat and shook my left leg because it had fallen asleep. It was dark outside before I knew it. The light barely filtered through the shades covering the windows.

A maid brought up a tray of food, which the boy dove into with a vengeance.

“Has Lady Meredith finished?”

“Not that I know, sir. The last I checked, the dining room table was still covered in papers and they were discussing flowers.” The woman bobbed her head and started to leave.

“And Duke Thysmer?” I said the words quietly. Hoping that little man, my new nickname for Marty, wasn’t listening.

“Still in the front parlor, sir.” She frowned, her eyes shifting to Marty. “We’ll see him to his room when he is ready.”

I started to ask if that was safe but stopped. She tilted her head in the boy’s direction. “It’s no problem, sir.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled at me. “My pleasure, sir.”

“Are you going?” Marty asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

“Not yet.” I pulled his desk chair out and turned it around to straddle. “That food looks too good to pass up.”

“The cook here is awesome.” He laughed. “It’s so weird to have a cook!”

“I suppose it is.” I helped myself to a sandwich and a handful of crisps.

“Yeah, before this place we ate lots of leftovers and easy stuff. Mom didn’t have a lot of time to cook.” He took another bite. “She was always working. It’s way better now. She just has school and that means we get a lot of time together.”

“What kind of things do you do?” I sipped the soda that had been brought up for us.

“Movies, games, she even plays with me at the park across from our flat.” He smiled. “She’s rubbish at football, but she tries.”

“Well, everyone has different talents,” I offered.

“Yeah. Mom’s is singing.” He pointed at me. “You should ask her to sing for you. People really notice how great she is when she sings.”

“I heard her in England,” I said. I’d more than heard her. I’d felt her words like she was singing just for me. I couldn’t imagine anyone not noticing how great she was when she sang. “You’re right. She’s fantastic.”

“Yeah.” He finished his sandwich. “Another round of battle racing?”