“Ah, well,” Charlotte begins, taking a sip of tea beforesetting the cup down on the coffee table. “I’ve been working with children for as long as I can remember. I started out babysitting for my neighbors when I was just a teenager and later went on to study early childhood education at university. After that, I spent several years teaching kindergarten in France and then transitioning over to teaching English.”
“I spent much of my adolescence in France before coming to Messalina for college. What made you go there to teach?” I ask, intrigued.
“I’d lived in Messalina my whole life and the idea of moving to a new place, a new country, one where I spoke the language, seemed like an adventure. I also followed a man there after university, so that didn’t hurt either.”
I giggle lightly. “And are you no longer together?”
“No.” She smiles wistfully. “That ended years ago, but I loved France so much, I stayed. It was simply wonderful. The children were so eager to learn, and the culture was beautiful. I especially loved the food. Similar to what we have in Messalina, but also different. The croissants, the cheeses, the wines… It’s a magical place, and I think everyone should have the chance to experience it at least once in their lives.”
“I agree,” I exclaim. Her enthusiasm is contagious, and for a moment, I’m dragged back in time to when I was a teenager, strolling down a quaint French street with the scent of fresh bread filling the air and a book in my hand. “What made you move back to Messalina?”
For a moment something flickers in her eyes, but it’s gone so quickly that I’m not even sure I saw it. “It was time to come home. I missed my father and my country and was looking for something new. Teaching young minds is such a rewarding experience,” Charlotte continues, her eyes shining with passion. “There’s nothing quite like watching a child have anahamoment when they finally grasp a new concept or gainconfidence in their abilities. But as much as I love being in the classroom, I think I also needed a break from it.”
That I get. I can’t help but smile as I listen to her speak.
She’s so like me, and though she is a bit older, I haven’t met anyone I’ve connected with this quickly. I have Althea, but she’s also much older than I am and Sebastian’s aunt. There is something about Charlotte that makes me feel like everything will be okay. That our children will be safe and happy in her care.
The resistance I’ve been feeling all but evaporates, replaced by a sense of hope and possibility.
“Your love for children really shines through,” I tell her, my voice sincere. “And I think that’s so important in someone who will be caring for any family, but ours especially, given our particular situation.”
“Thank you, Bellamy,” she says, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I agree. I grew up with a strong sense of loyalty and responsibility, especially to the royal family. It’s what my father has dedicated his life to, and he imparted me with those same values.”
As we sip our drinks and chat about the children, I find myself growing more and more comfortable with the idea of this kind, slightly awkward woman becoming a part of our world. And though there is still a small voice in the back of my mind whispering doubts and fears, I can’t deny the connection I feel with Charlotte.
“Would you like to meet the children?” I ask when we finally hit a lull in our conversation, which seemed to take on a life of its own.
Her face brightens. “I’d be honored.”
I lead Charlotte through the palace up to the third floor of the library. It’s become not only my sanctuary but the children’s. They love spending time up here now. Althea is reading a book on the window seat while Phaedra and Sabrina paint on the art easels. Zayer constructs something that could be adinosaur out of Legos while Arthur plays with a rubber ball, batting it back and forth before tackling it.
“Hello, my darlings,” I call out. “I have someone whom I’d like you to meet.”
“Bonjour, mes petits,” Charlotte greets them, her voice warm and melodic. She walks over to them, standing a few feet away, which I appreciate.
“Hello,” Phaedra greets her formally, ever the queen-to-be. “I’m Princess Phaedra of the house of Alarie. This is my younger sister, Sabrina, my baby brother, Zayer, and our pet ferret, Arthur.”
“Hello,” Charlotte says, giving them a curtsy. “It’s lovely to meet you all. Would you mind showing me what you’re painting?”
Phaedra throws me a look and I nod, but Sabrina doesn’t even bother to check with me. No shocker there.
“I’m painting Arthur swimming in the ocean. He did that on our trip.”
“Oh, how fun. I bet he was good at it.”
Sabrina nods earnestly.
“What about you, Your Highness? What are you painting?” she asks Phaedra, who launches into a story about a princess living in a palace.
Althea comes over and stands beside me, giving me a look. “She made it up here. I wasn’t sure you’d get that far.”
“Me neither,” I admit in a low tone so only she can hear. “But I like her. She…reminds me of me.”
Charlotte crouches down on the floor with Zayer. “Can you show me your favorite toys?”
He eagerly drags her over to the wall of bins stuffed with toys and starts opening them up, one after the other. Arthur scampers over, sniffing her, and then he climbs up her back.
“Arthur!” I chastise.
