The King and the Kindergarten Teacher (The Rebel Royals 1)

“Wow,” sighed Esme. “That is so profound.”

The little girl’s hazel eyes found hers. Once again, Esme couldn’t shake the feeling that she was looking into a familiar face. “My father said that, too.”

“He must be a wise king,” said Esme.

The little princess nodded.

“Thank God he’s not here to hear you say that,” said the man behind her who Esme assumed was the prince. “It would make his huge head even huger.”

“Uncle Alex, there’s no such word as huger, and father’s head is entirely proportionate.”

“All right, Penelope,” said the prince, “it’s time to go. We have to get to class. I can’t believe I just said that.”

Prince Alex grimaced as though truly pained. He was quite handsome. Esme waited for her belly to grow butterflies. She was surprised to learn it didn’t.

“So sorry to have disturbed you,” said the prince.

His hazel eyes connected with hers, and she felt a flutter. But not for him. For the color. They were the same color as Leo’s. Esme wondered if all Cordovians had the same gold flecks in their brown eyes?

“No trouble at all,” she said after she realized she’d been staring.

“Can’t I visit this class?” asked Princess Penelope.

Behind her, the principal’s eyes went large, huger than saucers.

Esme stepped forward to save the man from his perfectly planned itinerary for the royals, which would lead them far away from her uncommon class. “Well, sweetie—“

The principal coughed. Esme looked up, unsure what was wrong now? Then she realized her folly.

“I mean, your highness, the other class worked very hard preparing for your visit. You wouldn’t want to disappoint them, would you?”

“You’re very diplomatic,” said Princess Penelope.

“You know some very big words for a five-year-old.”

“I’m nearly six.”

“Ah, now I see. That explains it.”

The little princess grinned, looking like a child for the first time since she’d stepped up to the threshold of the classroom. “As you said, not everyone wins.”

Esme cringed. That was not an edict that the school liked to put forth even though it was the truth.

“But,” Princess Penelope continued, “if I were trying to do what’s best for everyone, I could invite the other class to yours.”

“Now, look who’s being diplomatic.”

“It’s what I’m going to be when I grow up.”

“A diplomat?”

“I thought she was going to be a dragon slayer?” Kurt whispered behind Esme as quietly as a five-year-old could, which was at full volume.

“May I try your game?” asked the princess.

Such pretty manners. Esme looked up to the prince. He shrugged but was smiling. She looked to Principal Clarke. His shoulders were tense. She was sure she’d get an earful for this display after the school bell rang.

“I’ve never seen learning like that,” said the princess. “My tutors just use pencil and paper.”