“Oh, sweetie,” I say and sigh. “Grams can’t come here, She’s not…”
“No! Other Grams!” Delinda says, leaping off my lap and bouncing on the bed, firing off Faerie lights as she does it.
Other Grams? My first thought is, of course, the Tiamat from another World, but that can’t be. How could Delinda know about them? It is only when I flick a Faerie light out of my face that it occurs to me that she means Maurelle.
“Oh, you mean…” I say with a raised eyebrow. How will Maurelle feel about such a title? “…Grandpa and Maurelle?”
“Grams, Grams, GRAMS!” Delinda yells at us and Devon snickers behind his hand at my discomfort. He stands abruptly and catches Delinda swiftly as she all but flies off the bed, but lands safely in his arms. He looks at her with a smile and she asks, “Who are you?”
Devon looks back at me and I twist my mouth to him. How do I even begin to answer that?
“I am your uncle Devon,” he says smoothly.
I give him a soft smile. Maybe he can love her as his own. Of course, CK chooses that moment to appear in the doorway. Not to be out done, he clears his throat. It catches Delinda’s attention and she fixes her little green gaze on him, far more shrewdly than she had with Devon, to my amusement.
“I am Constantine,” CK says and I can see him about to hold his hand out to formally introduce himself but clenches it next to his side instead.
Delinda scrunches up her face and tries to repeat it. “Costan...”
“Just call me CK,” he says with a smile in her direction that lights up the room.
Huh?
He has a tendency to stop conversations with both his gorgeous looks and frightening attitude, but…what? Devon and I are both gaping at him and his monumental declaration that Delinda shorten his name.
He takes my hand and mutters to Devon, “Don’t get any ideas.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Devon mutters back as Delinda wiggles out of Devon’s arms and runs around the room yelling, “Cee-Kaaay!” at the top of her voice. Where she gets the energy from for all this activity is mind-boggling. I am barely keeping my eyes open just sitting here. She lands in front of CK and holds her arms out to him. “Are you my uncle too?” she asks.
To my astonishment, he picks her up and settles her on his lap, giving me a quizzical look. I give him a pained one back as we have yet to have the conversation about how Remiel isn’t her father and I don’t really want CK blurting out that he is in fact now her stepfather.
“I am a close friend of your mother’s,” he says to her to my relief. She looks happy enough with that and then looks at me in annoyance. “Grams,” she says, crossing her arms, and I take her from CK.
“Okay,” I say. “We will go and see your Grams.”
“And Grandpa,” she chides me as if I had forgotten this important fact.
“Of course,” I murmur while the guys chuckle behind me. Man, they are having a field day with this. Who knew my daughter would be such a bossy little madam?
“This way,” she demands as I head out of the door. I have no idea where she is taking me as she gives directions to a place in the palace that I have never been to before. I don’t know how she knows where she is going, but soon we land in front of a large, wooden door that looks like it belongs to one of the towers.
“Up,” she says to me as I knock lightly on it, but there is no reply. I am hesitant to open the door in case I am barging into something I have no business barging into, but at her look I push it open. All I see are stairs leading up the tower, so I take them slowly and loudly so that it does not appear that I am sneaking up on anybody. I have a sinking feeling Delinda has led me straight to Drake and Maurelle’s bedroom.
We eventually reach a door at the top and I knock firmly on it. Moments later Drake opens it with a frown, which turns to a huge beam when he sees it is Delinda and me.
“Aeval,” he booms at me as he takes Delinda from me.
“Sorry to barge in,” I start, but he shushes me.
“Nonsense,” he says and beckons me inside.
I sidle in and take in a humungous turret room, decorated like a sitting room, with a bar area and an office-type area. There is a wide, circular staircase in the far corner, adding yet another floor to this turret, and I see Maurelle slowly making her way down. Her footsteps are heavy, and she has her arm around her bump. Her hair is loose, and she is wearing a white, cotton nightgown that covers her from her neck to her toes.
“I am so sorry,” I say. “Delinda wanted to see you, but it is late, we will leave you.” The woman looks awful and in dire need of some rest.
“Don’t be silly,” she says with a weak smile and holds her arms out for Delinda as she shouts “Grams” far too loudly. She is a firecracker all right.
“Are you sure?” I ask with a worried look.