Page 160 of Hell Bent

“Yes,” I said. “Oddly, I find the trailer has lost its charm compared to living with Sebastian and Ben and Lexi.” We hadn’t told anybody but my grandmother yet about the engagement. Superstition, or maybe we were just waiting for the ring to be done. It was Fabergé, the setting looked like stars, there was a diamond on either side of the gorgeous emerald but absolutely no row of diamonds around it, and we were having it made in gold instead of platinum. And, yes, I wanted it on my finger. Sue me. I didn’t want a Porsche 911 Turbo-S Coupe, but I wanted that ring.

My mother didn’t say anything, just pinched her lips a little, and Sebastian said, “Is this actually a marriage question? I hate dancing around stuff. If it’s a marriage question, let’s answer it.” He looked at me, and here we were.

Ben looked between us and said, “Seriously? Awesome.” The realtor tactfully decided to check out the basement or something.

I said, “Yep. We’re doing it. Even though I just ran out on my fiancé in December. Sebastian likes to live dangerously.”

“Because he was a weenie,” Ben said. “The other guy.”

“A weenie?” That was my dad, who, as usual, hadn’t said much. “On consideration—yes, I believe you’ve nailed it. A man needs some strength of character to marry into the Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg dynasty. Not to mention those Saxons.”

“Strong women,” Sebastian said.

“As you say,” my dad said. “Also, princesses. Congratulations.” He shook Sebastian’s hand. “I’m guessing I’ll like you better than the last candidate.”

My mother said, “Wait. This is actually happening?”

“Yes,” Sebastian said. “It is.”

“Well,” she said, “I suppose I’d better kiss you.” And did. Sebastian grinned at me, and I said, “Baby steps.”

“Wait, though,” Ben said. “That isn’t a joke? Are you actually a princess, Alix? Like, for real? How come I didn’t know that?”

My mother sniffed a little and muttered, not softly enough, “Possibly her presentation.”

“Yes,” I said. “I am. Which is semi-ridiculous. I’ll explain later.”

“Radical honesty,” Sebastian said. “Always best.”

“Radicalacceptance,”I said.

“I’ve decided to expand my philosophical views,” he said. “And I like the idea of radical honesty.So, radically speaking—this house?”

“It’s not homey,” I said.

“You think?” Ben said.

“And,” I said, “it doesn’t have enough yard. How are you going to perfect your lawn-mowing technique with that tiny bit of grass? Also, I’m sorry, but this doesn’t feel like a neighborhood to me. I can just see Ben inviting his friends over, too. ‘Hi! Come troop through my extremely fancy house, which actually has the word ‘Mansion’ in the name, until we get to the game room, which is about two thousand feet from the kitchen! Good news—we can smoke weed, too, because you can’t even smell it all the way up there!’”

My mother said, “Anastasia.”

Ben said, “I’m not going to smoke weed. I’m not even in high school yet.”

“Excellent point,” Sebastian said. He headed out through the great room-slash-kitchen, which I swear was about the size of his whole apartment, and came back with the realtor. “We don’t like this one, either,” he told her. “Alix is going to tell you what we want. Take it away, Alix.”

I said, “Flat. Grass. Homey. Pretty. Nice. Neighborhood. Not a mansion.”

“Near Grant High School, maybe,” Ben said. “I went over there last week and checked it out. The kids look pretty cool. Like, regular. And it has good classes. They have an Audio Engineering club and a Robotics class, plus Electrical Circuits and Engineering Drafting, and they have Strength and Conditioning and CrossFit for PE. There’s an English class called ‘Words of Warfare,’ too. See,thatseems like stuff you’d actually want to read. NotRomeo and Juliet.OrHamlet,which is what I’m doing with my tutor now. I swear, it’s even worse. At leastRomeo and Juliethad that funny guy, Mercutio, and some fights. Hamlet just walks around whining all the time, and everybody dies.Again.”

“People die in war novels, too,” I said. “That’s kind of the point of war novels.”

“I know,” Ben said. “But it’s cooler.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Sebastian said. Then he looked at the agent. “What do you have to show us near Grant High School? Because that’s where we want to live.”

“Seriously?” Ben asked. “It’s not as expensive as around here, though, and you make five million a year now. It probably won’t have a home theater.”

Sebastian said, “Oddly enough, a home theater isn’t high on my list. Let’s go look at some houses. Ones with room to throw a ball for a Golden Retriever, and kitchens with some color in them. Or wood. Wood works. Also a real garage. We’re going to need that.”