I burst out laughing again.
“Vervain!” Odin snapped.
“What? He's sixty per tent. He just can't help it. He's drawn that way.”
Odin rolled his beautiful eyes. “We're never going to make it to the fundraiser in time.”
Ah, yes. The reason for this particular tantrum-fest was a fundraiser on Earth. It was being held at the Golden Citadel and that alone made humans froth at the mouth to get their hands on tickets. No one cared that the price of the dinner was insane. I'm talking more than a car. A nice car. And they lined up to pay it. Not literally, of course. The people who could afford those tickets did not line up for anything. They had people for that.
I wish we had people to handle the children. I had a nanny to help with the kids in Faerie. I don't know why we didn't have one in the God Realm. Maybe because Samantha kinda played the part. She watched the children when we had god business to attend to. But she wasn't a nanny. She was a friend. I couldn't just shout for her help and expect her to come running. But I also had six husbands in the God Realm. So if the seven of us couldn't wrangle the kids, a nanny probably wasn't going to make a difference.
Back to the ruffians. I mean, ruffy-ins.
“We'll be fine,” I said as I patted Odin's shoulder. “Azrael's already there, hosting. He'll keep the guests happy until wearrive.”
“Yes, I know.” Odin grimaced at the twins. “If you recall, that's what started this round of excitement.”
I turned back to the kids. “Do you want to go to the party or not?”
“I do!” they all cried.
Normally, we wouldn't take the kids to a fancy party on Earth. But this was a fundraiser for the Wild Fey children. One of them had been kidnapped recently—or fake kidnapped, rather—by a trickster god who swore to have good intentions even as he made us play his game. The thing that really annoyed my husbands was that the trickster—who now had possession of Katila's Pasha, Jerry's holy tablets, and the power of all the Yamadutas of Naraka—really had helped us with that stunt. Humans who had been against us and saw the Wild Fey children—kids who'd been conceived when the Wild Magic had roamed the Earth—as monsters, now supported us and those kids. Especially the children. The kids had become nearly as famous as Azrael in his Faerie God form. They were celebrities.
And we were milking it.
On their behalf, of course. The profits from the fundraiser would be divided equally among the Wild Fey kids—put into trust funds so they'd have it to live off of when they became adults. It wasn't as if they had great job prospects. I mean, at this point, they could make paid appearances on talk shows or the like. But who knew what would happen in the future? It was smart of Az to bank on their fame now and get them set up for later. He really was a good dad.
“All right, then,” I said sternly. “You need to finish getting dressed.”
“Too tight!” Sebastian said.
Simultaneously, Dominic said, “Okay, Mommy.”
They were both part Angel, but they'd also been born when I was the Faerie Goddess. Long story. Basically, we weren't sure what kind of mix my boys were. But whatever it was that brought out the rascal in them, Sebastian had more of it than Dominic.
“If you don't wear the suit, you can't go,” I said to Sebastian as Odin released the children.
Lesya and Vero, who were old enough to dress themselves and should have been old enough not to be throwing temper tantrums, started putting on the last pieces of their outfits without a word. For Vero, it was his tailored jacket while Lesya had to get her satin flats on her feet. Yup, that was it. The twins, however, only had their underwear on. Specifically, Underoos—Iron Man for Sebastian and Batman for Dominic. They liked those superheroes because they didn't have magic. To them, that made the characters more impressive. Oh, and no, I don't think they make Underoos anymore. I made them with territory magic, going by my childhood memories.
Sebastian scowled at me but when I crouched in front of him and held out his pants, he set a hand on my shoulder and stepped into them. Odin did the same for Dominic, and we quickly got them dressed. Or as quickly as possible for dressing kids with wings. Their clothing had to be made to accommodate the joints at their backs, but that wasn't a problem with my territory magic. Underoos or tiny suits with wing slits—it was all the same to me.
“Lesya, I'm very disappointed in you,” Kirill said as he took our daughter's hand. His Russian accent made his tone sound even harsher than it was. “You are eldest. You should set good example.”
Lesya's huge blue eyes, the same rich shade as her father's,widened as she looked up at him, and her lower lip trembled. “I'm sorry, Daddy.”
Kirill buckled under that sad stare, but I cleared my throat, and he bucked up instead. “You are young lady now,” he went on. “You should be helping vith your siblings, not adding to mayhem.”
Lesya nodded, and a tear slid down her cheek.
Kirill sighed and crouched to wipe her cheek. “Don't cry, kotyonok. Just listen and do better.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“You hear that?” Trevor said to Vero. “What he said. Do better, son. You're too old for tantrums.”
Vero grimaced, scratched his nose, and looked at me.
“What your fathers meant to say,” I took over, “is that the next time this happens, you will be spanked and privileges will be removed.”
