Page 8 of Royally F*cked

Oscar does us the favor of gathering a takeout order for Charlie while Willow and I clean up our mess. Then we’re on our way back to the palace.

As soon as we begin to drive away, Willow’s list of questions resumes. “Will you ask Papa when we return? About me staying over. Perhaps I could just come back with you now. Make a whole day of it.”

“Your Royal Highness. . .” Oscar begins. No doubt he’s about to remind me of a previous engagement that prevents me from meeting with my grandfather once more.

“Goddamnit, Ozzy!”

Willow’s offensive outburst sets me back into the role of disciplinarian. “Willow Hope Rexford. That is enough of the foul language. It is not going to get you your way. Not with me and certainly not with our grandfather or your lady in waiting, for that matter.”

This time her lip quivers and I can see the tears well up in her eyes. Whatever is going on with her is so much more than her title and being respected. Something has clearly gotten under her skin.

“Oscar, cancel my afternoon plans.”

He gives a firm nod in response. “As you wish, Sir. I’ve also sent the information you requested to your phone.”

My little sister needs me more than whatever I have on my schedule. And I’m going to need to talk to the king for the second time today.

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