Page 50 of Knights of Past

“Sweetheart, you’re not a heart surgeon and most of the bodies you do come in contact with have been dead for thousands of years… which means they will stay that way and are in no hurry to change that.” I couldn’t help but giggle at that.

“And what if I was doing life changing research?”

“Okay, answer me this, is anything you’re doing right now going to save the world?”

“Well, no,” I admitted as it was true, it wasn’t affecting the world, just me, and I didn’t really want to freak her out with all of that right now.

“Great, then that means you get to hang up your cape for the holidays and come home,” she said, making me wish it was that easy.

“Look, Lucius adores you, he loves you, and he will do anything for you… so use that to your advantage.”

“Mum!” I shouted, shocked that she would suggest such a thing.

“What? I do it with your father all the time.” I had to laugh at this as she was certainly right there, especially considering there was very little my dad ever denied her. Particularly when she reached up on her tiptoes and started whispering in his ear, making his eyes glow purple at whatever it was she was saying… no doubt something I really, really didn’t want to know.

“So, what you’re saying is that I should strap on a pair of high heels, put on a tight skirt, and march right into his office and demanded he take me home for Christmas before I…” I purposely stopped knowing what was coming next.

“La la, la, la, la… so not listening.” I laughed and told her,

“Yes, well consider this payback for all the years I’ve had to listen to you and Dad flirting and acting like horny teenagers.”

“Yes, but that never ended in bloodshed, and your father has way too many weapons to be considered safe, especially listening to you two doing the same, as trust me, three months is no way nearly enough time to erase memories of…” I quickly interrupted her this time, slapping a palm to my forehead.

“Okay! Mum, I got it! And just pointing out, all the more reason not to come home for Christmas.” Okay so I thought I had her with this one, but like always, my mother had an answer for everything.

“Yes, but I will also have access to those weapons should you choose not to come home for Christmas, and I will only have one man to blame.”

“Okay, good point. Wow, you really are like the Christmas monster,” I said, knowing she was only joking as my mother wouldn’t hurt a fly. Well, not unless it was trying to hurt her family or friends, then she would turn bat shit crazy on everyone.

“Yes, and this Christmas monster will be released in a fit of rage. One that even Adam will shudder at if I find that you are not home to open your stocking on Christmas morning.”Erm… case in point.

“Okay, but you do get that I’m nearly thirty, right?”

“Are you telling me you don’t want a stocking?” she asked, calling my bluff.

“Well… I… I mean not exactly… okay, yes, I want the stocking and the sack of presents and the hot cocoa with a candy cane to stir the sprinkles!” I admitted, because I was weak.

“Hot chocolate, Amelia, we call it hot chocolate.”

“Technically, I’m in Germany and here they call it, heiße Schokoladein… sooo…” She scoffed at this before going back to her master plan of manipulation and guilt, now pulling out the big guns.

“Look, I get it, smarty language pants, this is all very new for him and I can be understanding of that. Just like I was understanding about the two of you eloping without telling us, robbing your father the chance to walk his only daughter down the aisle and your mother the chance to buy a ridiculously big hat and play mother of the bride.” This time I started rubbing my forehead as if this would help ease the pressure building there.

“I told you, we are planning another wedding… Geez.”

“Then this will give you the perfect opportunity to be here with your wedding planners and discuss all the things you would love to have on your big day,” she responded, and damn her logic!

“Okay, okay, I will work on Lucius,” I said, finally giving in, and this was when my mother snorted a laugh and muttered,

“Poor bastard.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I assured her again, now feeling emotionally drained to the point I almost said the same thing about my dad.

“And if you fail, I can simply make it a royal decree that my daughter has to be home with her new husband every Christmas,” she said, using her ‘posh English’ voice making me suppress a giggle.

“Great, I would love to see that paperwork,” I replied instead.

“I will even use my royal family seal, after all, your father did buy me one and I’ve not had any need to use it yet.” I laughed at this, knowing exactly why she hadn’t ‘used it’.

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