Page 57 of Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part One

I check the time on my phone as I cross into the castle, preparing to sneak my way past guests and family members alike.

But when I do, I see that I’ve missed a series of text messages from Tommy and Kitty.

I scroll quickly through the adorable update, mostly from Kitty, including a picture of her and her scowling brother having high tea with a bunch of plushies — and Kitty’s princess book.

The final text of the thread gives me pause, though.

Deleting this again. Not my phone.

Feeling oddly disheartened and strangely disconcerted, I change course before fully thinking about it. Instead of climbing the stairs to my suite, I spiral down through the lower levels of the castle, managing to startle numerous staff members as I make my way to the royal guard common area.

Despite being a cat shifter with enhanced senses, Greg nearly falls off the sectional couch as I step into the large open room. About a half-dozen members of the guard are sipping beer and nibbling from chip-filled bowls as they watch a football match on a massive flat-screen TV .

“Your Highness,” Roz practically shouts. My combat mage has been chatting with another guard in the kitchen area along the far wall. At my abrupt appearance, she almost upends the huge bowl of popcorn she’s carrying.

Everyone else stiffens, jaws dropping and leaping to their feet if they aren’t already standing. Then they start pulling out their phones, looking for an update or alert that would explain my presence.

“Please excuse me,” I say. “I don’t mean to disturb you. I have a request …”

Somehow looking even larger out of his standard-issue royal guard suit and in casual jeans and a black long-sleeve T-shirt, Greg almost takes out the couch as he moves to me.

Roz, dressed in a bright-blue oversized sweater and purple leggings, presses the bowl of popcorn into the nearest guard’s arms, instantly stepping my way as well.

Someone has muted the game.

I step back out into the hall.

“Your Highness,” Roz says in a quiet rush, “if we’ve neglected —”

“Not at all.” I smile at both her and Greg, who crowd me just a little up against the wall. As if I might be in danger while wandering through the domain of the castle staff. “I probably should have taken this to one of the tech mages … I just … thought …”

“Please let us take care of it for you, Your Highness,” Greg rumbles.

I clear my throat lightly, trying to organize a purely emotional reaction into actionable thoughts in my mind. I open the first picture Tommy messaged me on my phone. The one with him and Kitty, taken at night against the brick wall with Kitty holding her book.

I turn the screen out for them to see it. “The boy I met at the last Read With Me event in London. ”

“Thomas Walsh,” Roz says before even looking at the picture. She and Greg do lean in to examine it thoroughly, though. “Goes by Tommy. Age eleven.”

Greg adds, “Sister, Kitty. They both attend Cedar Hollow Public. Mother, Gail, works part-time nights as a caregiver at a privately owned facility. Both maternal grandparents dead. Paternal side currently unknown.”

I blink. “Well, that makes this request a bit easier. But also, seriously creepy, guys.”

Roz snickers, but Greg frowns. “That’s our job.”

I huff. “You needed a threat assessment for an eleven-year-old?”

Greg can’t quite meet my gaze. “Plus the sibling … and their family …”

I shake my head at him, trying to suppress a grin. “Are you monitoring my text messages too?”

Roz looks utterly aghast. “Of course not.”

“Not that you wouldn’t,” Greg says under his breath. “The second it became necessary.”

Roz throws him a quelling look.

Now it’s his turn to squelch a grin.

I hold my phone out to Roz, still open to the original picture Tommy sent me. “Can you send that to your phones?”

Roz takes my phone, pressing a few buttons.

Greg’s phone buzzes. He tugs it out of his pocket, then nods to Roz.

“Are the kids in trouble?” she asks me.

“No. Nothing like that. It’s just, I’m trying to keep in touch, and they don’t seem to have regular access to a phone …”

The two guards exchange a glance.

I flush slightly. “Do you think it’s wrong if I ask you to …

get a phone to them? With a …” I realize awkwardly that I’m not certain how my phone even operates.

Do we have our own network that includes all the staff?

Do we have a huge package with a phone company?

That’s probably something I should know. “On the family network?” I add lamely.

Roz nods thoughtfully. Greg seems to be waiting for her to speak before he does. She’s the more experienced of the two— or rather, the more familiar with me.

I sigh. “You think that sort of gift is overstepping?”

“Maybe an older model?” Roz murmurs to Greg.

He nods. “We don’t know much about their circumstances.

” But he’s looking down at the picture Roz transferred to his phone, moving his fingers over his screen to zoom in and shift the image around.

Tension edges his expression, a slight frown gathering between his eyebrows.

He’s identifying all the little things that also bothered me about that photo.

All the things that are very much not my business. Except that an eleven-year-old boy made a comment about purple eyes and cages …

“Is it that you think someone might take a phone from Tommy even if you do get him one?” I ask quietly. “That’s, um, a little … judgemental.”

“Pragmatic,” Roz says quietly.

“The bruises on the boy …” Greg murmurs.

“Tommy wasn’t happy about even the intimation that his family isn’t …

caring.” I twist my hands around my phone.

“We’ve messaged multiple times now. I don’t think he or Kitty are in trouble.

Or even need anything from me. Their school would have stepped in if they thought there was any abuse going on. I’m sure the bruises are from sports.”

Roz has her phone out now, thumbs flying as she sends a text message. Greg still has his eyes narrowed on the photo on his screen— zoomed far in, trying to read the faded lettering or symbol etched into the brick above Kitty’s head.

“It’s just that Tommy seems to feel the need to delete our messages, and I missed this last one …” I open the recent text thread, then hand my phone to Roz and wait for her to read through it.

Greg’s phone vibrates, then he grunts in acknowledgment without looking up. Roz presumably sent him the picture of the tea party.

I flush, feeling really … ignorant. “I don’t think anyone is hurting him. I just think that not all eleven-year-olds have phones. So is it inappropriate to send him a phone? Should I ask his mother for permission?”

Roz and Greg exchange looks again. Neither of them are telepaths, but knowing each other well enough to communicate silently is a natural extension of working in tandem, guarding me.

“Let us take care of this for you, Your Highness,” Roz says, passing my phone back to me.

I nod, turning to walk away. But I hesitate after a couple of steps, looking back at my guards. “It’s just a … feeling.”

“We’ll confirm Tommy Walsh’s school schedule,” Greg says. “And get a package to him as soon as possible. I’ll hand it off myself. He’s a smart kid. He’ll remember me.”

“Thank you.” I get two more steps down the hall before I turn back again, clearing my throat before I voice the next question. “And … tracking software?”

“Preinstalled on all our phones, Your Highness.”

“And … not creepy to install on a phone given to a child over whom I have no jurisdiction?”

Greg grimaces.

But Roz says pragmatically, “Do you intend to stalk said child, Your Highness? Or have anyone else stalk him?”

I huff at her .

She shrugs. “There’s safety in numbers. Even if his and Kitty’s eyes never do turn purple.” She would have been near enough to have heard the entire conversation between Tommy and me at the charity event.

“Thank you.”

They both nod. I feel them watching me until I reach the stairs and start the climb up to my suite.

I’m still not certain that giving a child a phone is at all proper, but having decided to do so settles something anxious within me.

I slip into my rooms, intending to take a long, hot shower, then call down for some dinner. I really should check in with Bolan, because no matter how perpetually irate I am with him — even more so now after the events of the day — I know …

I know that he, like me, was never as close to anyone as he was to Armin.

Finding out that he has a younger half-brother has to be screwing with his sense of self …

Energy, followed by a quiet murmur of voices, draws my attention through the living area of the apartment toward the balcony.

Inside, the fire is crackling quietly away in the stone fireplace, casting a muted glow around the seating area. Through the far windows, the last vestiges of the sunset streak the mostly deep-blue sky that stretches over the crystalline lake. The apartment is empty.

The balcony, however, is not.

Drawn forward, I catch sight of mage-spelled candles and a few of the portable heating lamps that had kept the chill off the outdoor luncheon. I still refuse to call it a picnic, no matter what Anne noted on the agenda.

The previously empty balcony now boasts a seating area and … a portable hot tub.

I push open the door. It’s already unlatched, which is why I caught the murmur of male chatter beyond.

Sully is sprawled in the hot tub, jets burbling and steam rising in the cool air. All his smooth, tanned skin is on display. His wet, taut skin. His gray eyes narrow and his lips curl into a welcoming smirk as he takes me in — staring at him unabashedly.

I hover just inside the door, trying to absorb the idyllic setting that has suddenly sprung forth outside my rooms.

Elias lounges on a cushioned outdoor settee that looks large enough for three people, smoking a cigar and sipping whiskey.