Page 16 of Trickster King

“It’s like you’ve never seen me carry a kid around before,” I said, careful to keep my voice soft and my tone soothing. “At least this one isn’t like Adam. I swear, carrying him was like hauling around a bomb ready to blow, and we had equal chance of figuring out which parent he wanted between the ages of three and five.”

Serena grinned at me. “There were quite some amusing sessions when the queen had the young prince and all he wanted in his life was his daddy holding him. During a live broadcast.”

As Jessica and I refused to skimp on our children’s care, the world got to see a few more temper tantrums than I cared to admit, but they also got to witness us navigate the darker waters of parenthood without losing our cool with an intractable, overtired child. Most of the time, we had the interruption resolved within three minutes, although Adam had screamed for ten minutes the one time I’d been out handling a critical phone call while Jessica wrangled the congress.

I’d cut the call short on a promise to call back, retrieved my distraught boy, and soothed him in a record thirty seconds, much to the amazement of everyone in the room, myself included. Then I’d excused myself, citing I needed to return to an important phone call, went back to the office I’d claimed as mine, and had finished handling the problems needed, all while wrangling a grouchy Adam.

It turned out he’d contracted the flu, and in Adam’s world, only Daddy could make the evils of the flu go away.

Smiling, I adjusted my hold on Eddie and nodded. “He caught the flu without showing any symptoms yet. When they get sick, I’m the one who can fix it. I’m not sure why the kids think that, but I don’t mind. It keeps Jessica from going crazier than normal, and I don’t mind handling the sick kids.”

“It’s the cooking,” Serena replied. “Also, that reminds me. I was asked if we can enroll him in cooking courses. There are waivers that need to be signed by a guardian for the classes, and he keeps wanting to make soup whenever a classmate is sick.”

Yet another empathy symptom. “I’ll sign the waiver, and I’ll send the school the ingredient list for the soup I taught him to make. Just bill me for the ingredients. He gets that from me. Once anyone in the family or close circles becomes sick, I’m in the kitchen making soup. He asked to learn how to do it so he could help, and he’s almost as good at it as I am.”

“Excellent. Would you like to have him attend all our culinary courses? The program is meant to prepare students for if they want to attend a more serious school later. We can allow him to take whichever he’d like as electives.”

“Try to impress upon him electives are supposed to be fun. Horseback riding opens up for him next year, yes?”

“Yes,” the nurse confirmed. “But considering the circumstances, I can inquire with him bringing his horse to be stabled here and he can take riding lessons as electives. We also have veterinary sciences courses.”

“For cattle?”

“Yes. We also have courses meant for horses as well.”

“Slide in one as a mandatory course; he’ll love it, so it’ll function as an elective for him while appealing to his interests and expanding his education. Just make sure you challenge him on the math courses. He’ll dodge them otherwise.”

“I’ll pass on your requests. Can I schedule a call to discuss his courses?”

“Absolutely. Thank you for handling the preliminaries.” Our arrangement wasn’t normal by any stretch of the imagination, but the school’s administration had some common sense between them. The nurse and I got along, she was more than capable of playing messenger, and the headmaster would verify everything with me, saving us all a great deal of time, headache, and effort.

“Of course. It’s important the students are set up to succeed, and Eddie is quite an excellent student. Please reassure him that he’s done nothing wrong. I’m convinced he’s afraid of disappointing anyone. Alas, I’m not the one he needs the reassurances from.”

That I could understand. “As always, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As I couldn’t drive with a child sleeping on my lap, I took over the middle set of seats in the oversized SUV, and with some help from Geoff, got Eddie situated so he could lean against me while still being buckled in. The situation would put both RPS agents on edge.

It was one thing to have one person to guard, but Eddie’s state as utterly defenseless tripped their triggers.

My call with the wife would add to their anxiety. “I’m just going to apologize now, but when the wife asks for a call if there’s actually an issue, I call.”

Randy sighed and got behind the wheel. “Can you at least give us an overview?”

“Empathy is my bet, but I couldn’t tell you if generalized or concentrated or a splash of both. It’s a no-call period.”

Both of the men relaxed, and satisfied they wouldn’t stress more than I could readily handle, I retrieved my phone, thumbed through my contact list, and called my wife’s primary agent on duty, a younger man named Avery.

The RPS hadn’t appreciated being forced to give agents on our details special phones so I could reach my wife after yet another broken phone incident, but it worked out.

When I had a way to contact my wife, I didn’t indulge in empathy-driven meltdowns, which kept everyone significantly happier.

“Your Majesty?” Avery answered.

“Please give my wife the phone, would you? She told me she’d broken hers.”

“Of course, sir. We’re on our way to have it replaced before returning to the palace.”

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