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

He shuddered and pulled back from the curtains, but not before seeing a few younger boys at play. He remembered a time when he, Daniel, and Omar, the Marquis of Navarre, would run, and laugh, and play.

They never played knights. They played soldiers as was part of their training as nobles. They never rescued damsels. Well, Daniel had brought it up once before being laughed down by Leo and Omar.

Though the two could marry whomever they chose, Daniel and Omar were still expected to make a good match. Twenty years later, neither the marquis nor the earl had tied the knot even once.

Back down in the gardens, the boys chased each other, nearly knocking down the two older girls. The girls giggled. But when an adult came into view, they all straightened up, just like good, noble children were trained from birth to do.

Whenever his mother or father came near, Leo would also wipe the smile off his face and put on the blank expression expected of him. Penelope had learned to do the same. But not these past two days.

His daughter grinned ear to ear when she was with Esme. So did Leo. Except today, when he had to turn his back on her.

He had no choice. The more time he spent with Esme, the more he forgot his blank stare. The more time he was near her, he craved the next time t

hey’d be together.

It was easy for him to imagine Pea and Esme laughing and giggling. They were likely somewhere in the city holding hands and having a fine time without him. Esme’s eyes were likely wide with wonder. Of course, they were. She was living inside a fairytale.

She hadn’t noticed the poverty encroaching around the corner, or the repairs needed on the roads, or the politics brimming under the surface of it all. It was all magic to her.

“You’re not yourself.”

Leo turned to find that Daniel had remained behind. He’d closed his book and was studying his oldest friend.

Leo shrugged and turned back to the window. “I can never be anyone else.”

“Am I going mad, or is Leonidas Almeria waxing philosophic? That’s my role, and you can’t have it.”

Now that they were alone, Leo did drop his royal facade and grinned. Daniel looked at him expectantly. But Leo wasn’t ready to tell the tale of the king and the kindergarten teacher. As long as he hadn’t started the tale, he never had to admit to the inevitable ending.

“It was just a long trip,” he said. “And now duty calls.”

“It always does,” said Daniel. “As the king, you can decide when and what to answer.”

Having been king for more than five years now, Leo knew that wasn’t true. He answered every call his country put forth to him. It was his responsibility, and he would not fail.

Chapter Eighteen

Cordoba was as close to a fairytale in real life as Esme would ever get. They’d spent the morning driving along the coast to see the fortress built to protect the early inhabitants from Spanish attacks from the west and French attacks from the north. The fortresses looked like mini castles. They were no longer inhabited by guards but were renovated into tourist attractions for the beachgoers.

They made it to the city by the early afternoon. Esme’s jaw dropped with delight when she saw that some people still rode on horseback. Others in golf carts and small European cars. In and out wove bicycles and pedestrians down the cobbled lanes where tables and tents lined the walkway like a bazaar.

Beyond the bazaar, at the end of the street, were a high street of expensive shops. There were also common staples like The Gap and Old Navy.

After lunch, when they were making their way to the castle, Esme couldn’t help but notice the abundance of gardens and parks everywhere. It was a very walkable country, Alex told them. So much so that hikers and outdoor enthusiasts flocked to its pastures, mountains, and beaches.

There were churches and mosques and temples at every turn. The people coming and going were every shade of the human rainbow. Some were covered from head to toe in bright fabric. Others were nearly bare in strips of fabric that left only a little to the imagination.

“It’s like a utopia,” said Esme. But she had to amend her statement when they pulled up to the palace. “No, it’s paradise.”

The castle was built into the side of a mountain. It looked like a small city that sprang from the earth. The stone looked more golden than like actual brick. The spires sparkled as they reached up toward the sky. Lush green foliage sprouted between some of the buildings furthering the notion that the castle had sprung fully formed from the ground.

“That’s why the clouds moved in on what had previously been a fine day.”

They looked up to see a man, who could only be described as dashing, coming down the steps of the castle. His skin was honey gold. His hair jet black. His huge, almond-shaped eyes were blue. His accent was somewhere at the center of a Venn diagram of British, French, and Spanish.

“Oh, who let the refuse in here,” Alex groaned. But he smiled as he did so. He took two steps at a time until the two men met in the middle. Once forearms were clasped, they continued on with a complicated handshake, and then the two embraced. “Zhi, it’s good to see you.”

“Your highness.” Zhi came down the steps and bowed to Penelope.