Page 11 of The Defiant Wife

Another nod.The questions arrive instantly.

Do you live in a palace?

Do you have guards?

Do you own a horse?

Do you have a sword?

Can you fight dragons?

Why are you so tall?

Do you eat pizza?

Do princes get homework?

I blink, my brain struggling to process the sheer volume of questions being thrown at me.Children are terrifying.Nobody warns you about this.

"I live in a palace," I answer carefully. "No, I don't have a sword with me right now." A disappointed chorus follows.Wonderful.I've already failed."I know how to ride horses."

Their eyes widen. Encouraging.

"I don't ride regularly." The excitement fades slightly. Less encouraging. "And no, I don't wear prince clothes."

A little boy gasps."You don't?"

I shake my head.

"What do you wear then?"

I look down at my shirt." . . . normal clothes."

The boy looks unconvinced.Another child raises her hand.Why is she raising her hand?This isn't school.

I point toward her. Immediately regretting it.

She smiles brightly. "If you're a prince . . . "

I brace myself.

" . . . then does that mean you can tell the King to cancel homework forever?"

Silence.

Several children stare at me expectantly. Waiting. Hopeful. As though I genuinely possess this authority. I open my mouth. Close it. Then open it again. What exactly is the correct answer here? I look up. Instinctively seeking help.

Diya is leaning against a nearby pillar. Watching. Amused. Entirely too amused. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth.

She's enjoying this.

She notices me looking. The smirk grows. Not a single ounce of sympathy.

I turn back toward the children.

Think. Think harder. Finally I clear my throat. "I'm afraid even kings can't cancel homework."

A collective groan fills the courtyard. One child drops dramatically onto the grass. Another covers his face. A third whispers, "I knew it."