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The boy giggles.

“So you're our princess now?”

I look at Grimm.

His expression changes. The amusement disappears. And suddenly I understand.

This isn't just a surprise.

It's a question.

He hasn't assumed.

Not even after the curse. Not even after the bite. Not even after the Fates apparently shoved us together with all the subtlety of a runaway freight train.

He's waiting for me to choose.

Again.

My Wolf Prince.

Goddess, I love this man.

I straighten.

“We should probably talk about that.”

Grimm nods.

“Inside?”

“Inside the castle?”

“Residence.”

I glare.

“Keep it up and I'm not moving in.”

“Castle it is.”

Smart man.

The inside is worse.

And, by worse, I mean spectacular.

There's a grand staircase.

A grand freaking staircase.

Vaulted ceilings.

Old paintings.

Enormous fireplaces.

Libraries.