Fleur d'Espoir
"Fleur d'Espoir, the flower of hope. Things are changing in the world. Companies hire on Pokémon for jobs of all sorts, but what impact could that have on the economy? Old jobs disappear, and new ones spring up. But in this time of upheaval, we all need a bit of hope. For Ladira Mercier, that hope has a name." T/M Rating. Fluffy, F/F romance, sexy times, shameless cuddles, and school life in a new region.
Chapter Seven—Secure
8-8
[contingencies]
"Alright, settle down," I say, clapping my hands to keep Katherine and Rebecca focused on me. Everyone from our group, save Coach Davis and myself, take a seat in our tent, while the Growlithes I caught stand guard outside. Hopefully, they're trained up enough to handle sitting there while I handle this; it's been two days and I'm not a miracle worker.
Aegislash fades through the tent's ceiling, giving the girls a start.
"It's alright, Aegislash and Furfrou," someone saunters in through the tent's flap at hearing her name, "are my papa's Pokémon. They'll be standing guard until someone arrives, which won't be long. That's why we need to discuss this now."
Furfrou saunters over to me and eases back onto her haunches, her faux-hat bobbing ever so slightly. Aegislash, however, phases through the tent's ceiling again to keep an eye out.
"The trip hasn't been cut short," I begin, leaving no room for misunderstandings; I refuse to cut this short. "But there's been an incident. A reporter for the Motostoke Times thought herself above reproach and forced me to escalate. What that means," I smile and roll my eyes for Rebecca and Kat, who mostly look confused, "is that I had to explain things to my father, and he's being his usual overprotective self." Better they think it's something innocent like that, honestly.
"An…?" Amandine asks, eyes ever so slightly narrowed. The word, agent, remains on her tongue, never quite taking the final step into the world.
"Papa's sending an old friend of his to keep me safe. You know how fathers are." I flash Amandine a playful smile that doesn't reach my eyes. She nods, understanding perfectly. "So, I've an idea to make this suck less. How about we do each other's hair?"
To show I'm serious, I dig into my backpack and pull out three different kinds of hairbrushes, two wooden combs, and a zippered bag of scrunchies of a dozen different colours.
"Junebug," I intone, hearing the footsteps heading toward the exit, "deny me, and I'm throwing in makeup, lipgloss, and nail polish. We both know I have." The annoyed groan is telling.
8-8
[this mask I bear for you]
Junebug sits cross-legged, arms folded, and eyes narrowed. I only smile as her current agony buddy mirrors her so completely they could pass for sisters.
"You said you'd make this suck less," Kat complains as I carefully part her hair and give another three thin locks to Rebecca for braiding. "This isn't less sucky."
"Were you complaining during Janette's turn?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow at my recently braided and beaded Junebug. Each green braid reaches past her shoulder blades—I'll have to do something to keep it out of her vision. Perhaps tie it into a bun? "You haven't cut it in a while, have you?"
"Ma pesters me every month about it," Kat complains.
"I meant Janette," I say. "But I'll be sure to offer my assistance to Mrs Shawe, as well."
"You wouldn't!" Kat tries to turn, but I nudge her chin to keep her steady for Rebecca.
"Oye. Have you seen what she did to me?" Blake complains. Her usually straight hair is divided into dozens of little knobs. It's what she gets for keeping her hair boyishly short. Honestly, what else could I do with it?
"I still have makeup, you know. Eyeshadow, foundation, all of it."
"Ooh, me next!" Amandine coos, eyes hard and not matching the smile splitting her face. "You have for my complexion, right?"
"I came prepared for Kat." I nod to my backpack. "Main pouch, behind my laptop. You can't miss it."
"That doesn't answer my question," Amandine says, no doubt rolling her eyes as she ruffles through my things. I give it five seconds.
Four.
Three.
Two.
"Yedel Unlimited Pack!" Uh-huh. "Oh Katherine, we're getting ourselves properly dolled up, we are."
"Not on your life!"
"Come now," Amandine soothes, unzipping the leather case emblazoned with the YUP logo. "Do you know how hard it is to find a company that caters to our complexion?"
"No. And I don't care." Kat isn't having it. At all.
"It's alright," I soothe, petting Kat's mostly braided head. "I'm already plenty grateful you're allowing me to do your hair. So I won't push my luck," I cock an eyebrow at Junebug, "with you."
"Speaking of." Amandine sits beside me, going through her options with all the foundations and eyeshadows and eyeliners and everything. "Where did you learn to plait?" I was wondering when she'd bring that up. I only pestered Janette with every option for fifteen minutes before just picking one at random.
Junebug groans, pinching the bridge of her nose as she raises her free hand pointing down at herself.
"Mrs Green taught me when I was about Kat's age," I say, giggling a little. "She walked in on me brushing Janette's hair, trying to get the sand out after a day at the beach. So she taught me how to do it properly."
"Hmm?" Rebecca looks to Junebug. "I…didn't think…I mean, with green hair?" She obviously doesn't know how to say it tactfully, and she doesn't want to upset anyone.
"Some white people have green hair," Janette says, flicking a green lock back and clacking it into the mass of blue and red beads, "some black people have green hair."
"Hmm? You're more brown," Amandine observes. "I mean, not trying to other you, but…" She places her hand on Janette's forearm, to show the difference. "You could pass for a white girl, you could."
"Wait," Rebecca looks at my hand, studying my olive complexion, "are you…?"
"I'm mixed," I say. "I've cousins that are about as dark as Amandine, and others that look like they could be albino, if with red hair." The girls giggle.
"More of a meritocracy?" Amandine asks, trying to hide her smile. "Your family, I mean."
"Mmhmm." I nod, parting another three locks of Kat's hair for Rebecca to braid. "I don't look forward to Christmas."
Janette jerks her head back, looking like I just said I want to shave my head and join a biker gang. "How so?"
"Mercier clan holiday." I roll my eyes. "They've been pestering me for years about settling down."
"Seriously?" Blake asks, wrapping Miley's hair up in a top-knot, for some reason. I didn't know she was into Kantonian historical fashion. Not that this will deter me from doing something fun with Miley's long black hair. "You're not even sixteen."
I shrug. "It's what I get, honestly. Told my grandmère about my first love, and she's convinced I'm as good as married."
"The Mercier matriarch?" Amandine asks.
"Mmhmm." With the last of Kat's hair braided, I rub a smidge more beeswax into her scalp between the nodes of braids—I'm not entirely sure why my cousins always demanded I do this at the end with how I always start with this step, but they do, so I do. "I mean, it's not all bad. I love spending time with them, and my eldest cousin is due soon, so we'll have an adorable new addition to the family. And it's all in good fun, but…it's a bit trying to answer the same question over and over for two weeks, you know?"
"Fur!" Furfrou jumps up, glaring at the entrance to the tent before dashing through it. Ah, they've arrived.
I head outside, finding Coach Davis chatting with a man in a black suit. Not like the butler kind, but more a secret service with black shades and an obvious earpiece. The short green hair and bright red eyes, visible as he removes and stows his shades, tell me all I need to know—papa trusts this one, because Mr Green would die before anyone lays a finger on any of us.
"Ms Mercier," Mr Green nods to me. "Mr Mercier assured me you would fill me in on the details."
Right behind Mr Green is another man, dark-skinned. The same man was present in the lab with papa just after the game. Mr Shawe, no doubt.
"Forgive me. My protege, Mr Shawe. I assure you, Ms Mercier, his loyalty is above reproach, especially now."
"Furfrou, heel." My sharp tone has Furfrou jerking back onto her haunches, at my side where papa trained her to be in these situations. Aegislash, however, well that one never did like listening to me, so they keep out of sight. I sigh. "One was already overkill, but I've long given up on lecturing you company men on such matters." I give them both a thorough breakdown of what transpired, including my assessment that the reporter will likely still be in the area and how I've done my best to keep the girls together inside the tent awaiting their arrival.
"You've my thanks, Ms Mercier. We'll be—"
I hold up a finger to forestall the usual 'we'll be invisible' assurances. "Kat, sweetie. Your papa's here."
"Papa!" A little blur with her hair clicking from the myriad of beads dashes right to the man, lighting his face up on instinct. She jumps right into his welcoming embrace, complaining about how he needs to save her before Amandine and I really do doll her up.
"Mr Green. I appreciate," I sigh at Kat's obvious lie that we ripped out all her hair, "your willingness to be as unobtrusive as possible. But please allow some leniency for Katherine's sake."
"Yo, Da!" Junebug comes out, waving at her father. "Working a tough one, I see."
"Ms Mercier is known for her…precociousness," Mr Green says as carefully as he can.
"What, seriously?" Janette gives me a look, eyebrow cocked and lips pursed. "Nah. You let me handle her. Go on in and introduce yourself. Amandine de Verley may want to discuss things with her parents, but I'm sure she at least suspects." Oh, now you know how to speak professionally? What am I to do with that girl?
A soapy washrag presses into my palms as Janette washes my hands, removing the sticky sweetness of the beeswax.
"Libs. I get it. But if Da's here, this is no time to act out." Before I get a word in, Janette runs her fingertip along my jawline and keeps my nose pointed right at hers. "No arguing with me."
That look. Her usual playfulness has evaporated like the morning dew, leaving only a hard stare that pierces me clean through. It's like that time, right before we took that picture, when some boy came looking for trouble with a few of his friends. She had that look then, the look that doesn't waver for a second as she searches my eyes for even a momentary doubt that she'll take care of me, for a single shred of fear that she needs to alleviate.
Breathe. Just…just breathe.
"Hey." Her cool, moist hand cups my cheek, warming against me. "I let you take care of me, right?" She flicks a handful of beads, sending the plaited locks flying over her shoulder and onto her back.
"That…" No matter how I want to argue, it would be the same thing to her, emotionally if nothing else. "Fine. I'll let Mr Green figure it out with Coach. As long as I get my training in, I won't complain." Out loud, at least.
"Good. I need you to come up with something to tell Mrs Parker. And Mrs Shawe, I guess, but as long as her husband's here, I doubt she'll mind."
8-8
[backup]
They trot along, side by side. Iris, properly saddled and bagged, carries Rebecca. Wooloo, also saddled and bagged, carries Kat. And both girls look like they need only a tiara to be official princesses. Or a cowboy hat, in Kat's case.
I do my best to keep patrolling Stoutlands and scouting Audinos and hovering Crobats out of the shot, to make it seem as 'normal' as is possible. Honestly, did they have to dress their partners in all black? They stand out like yakuza in a jazz bar.
"So soft," Kat coos, admiring his wool as she scratches Wooloo's head.
"Super soft," Becca agrees, petting and preening Iris's poofy mane. They don't much care about the stifling security detail just now—whether because they're used to it or because we're not making a fuss about it, I can't tell. I let the recording continue for another few rounds about the camp, before ending it and sending it to Mrs Parker and Mrs Shawe.
"Libs." Janette nudges me with her elbow, and offers me a scrunchy. "Help me out?" I stow my Dex and carefully spin her long-ish braids into a bun, tying it with the loose scrunchy so it'll stay in place.
"Coach agrees there's no rush. So we make for East Lake Axewell tomorrow, and take the train to Hulbury. When the dust settles, we can come back."
I snort. Dust never settles for long. Something always comes along and kicks it right back up and it's back to damage control for the umpteenth time.
"In the meantime, I've got plans in Hulbury for us. Discussed things with Da. As long as we're in the city, we should be fine. So we're doing a tour of the Battlegrounds. You and me, Libs."
"Why?" I snap, instantly regretting it. Sigh. "Sorry, it's…It's not you, it's…" Tears sting, but I will not cry about this. Too many tears have already been shed for idiots intent on ruining my life. But for the cycle to start on Rebecca? That hurts.
Instead of words, Junebug wraps her arms around my waist and just holds me.
"Alright, girls!" Coach claps her hands, summoning Kat and Becca from their cowgirl/princess rides. "It's time for your Growlithes' turns. Can't let them feel left out, now can we?"
Iris comes straight for me, picking up Lily and Rose along the way. Right. Better get started on dinner.
8-8
[back to reality]
We enter Motostoke about eleven the next day. I've already informed our families—somehow, word got around that I dish out updates like candy at Halloween. We make for the station and book first-class tickets, check the scheduled departure time—we've an hour and a half—and update everyone on that as well. Honestly, I should just create a group chat to get it out quicker.
We find the nearest café and deal with lunch, do some window shopping, and hurry back to the station.
Only to find everything I wished to avoid staring me in the face.
"Low Tide! Low Tide! Low Tide!" The crowd outside Motostoke Central Station wave banners scribbled with jeers and taunts, posters of us in bikinis in suggestive positions with questionable creams spilt over the clearly doctored images of us, and foam hands in Calhoon's colours. Rebecca grabs my hand, her grip vice-like.
"Eat shite, Kalosian whores!"
I take out my Dex, recording all of it—faces, banners, jeers, everything.
"You love the attention, don't you, slags!" One of the 'fans' all but shoves his banner in front of us as we make our way into the station hall. Mr Shawe swoops in and holds the man, who can't be younger than forty-five with a widow's peak and crows' feet as deep as his, back as tactfully as he can while Mr Green clears a path.
Hundreds of hooligans fill the station and spill outside into the plain, here to jeer a rival team of high school girls. Keep it classy, Motostoke.
Luckily, we make our way through the mob, and up onto the platform as our train is pulling in. Sigh.
8-8
[coming home]
Key slides into the door, twists it open, slow and silent, and it softly clicks shut behind me.
"I don't much care what anyone has to say about it. These were men in their forties antagonizing high school girls. Teenagers, with their coach and two children. For what? Trying to catch a train." The talking head makes no effort to hide his utter disgust with the scene being reported on. "You want to support your team, fine. Support them. But this? If any of you hooligans attempt this with my daughter, I assure you it'll be on the news for a very different reason indeed."
"Roger. I understand where you're coming from, but—"
"I was there!" the man cuts the anchor off. "What do you think would have happened had they missed their train? You know, the reason you go to the train station. What would have happened? They'd have to wait for four hours for the next one. In that mob, no less. And the police were no help at all. Too busy with the Gym Challenge, so they showed up almost two hours later to restore order." Sigh.
Maman notices my arrival and flies up off the couch, her arms around me. My backpack plops onto the ground, and I just…it all comes crashing down.
"We're joined by Motostoke Police spokesperson, Clem Ross. Mr Ross, good evening. Troubling times we're having."
I pull back, heading toward the stairs. The last thing I need is to listen to what little is being done about those fools.
"Good evening, Grace. These are troubling times indeed. While it's common for emotions to run high during the Gym Challenge, the Motostoke Central Precinct has made eighteen arrests, for civil disobedience and—"
Silence. Whether maman muted or turned it off, I don't care. I just drag myself up the stairs and crawl into bed, curling up with my plushies.
8-8
[recharge]
Days bleed together. Being surrounded, day and night, by classmates and two girls that deserve constant guidance and assistance—that's one thing. A bit much, to be sure, but something one can mentally prepare oneself for.
But that thing? Whatever that scene was in Motostoke Central. What was that? I've crushed as many as I've had crush me as starting pitcher, never once was the reaction this horrid. Why? Why is this okay? What's so different about Galar?
Tired of not having answers, I reach for my backpack, that I've yet to unpack, and fish out my laptop. I trudge over to my desk and slump into my chair, starting her up and plugging her in.
After logging in, I open a web browser and surf the local news sites. The news cycle has already moved on from the mob in Motostoke, though a few sites give highlights and commentary on the participants—mostly about how they've all been recently laid off. Curious.
Another such mob broke out this morning in Hammerlock, in the wake of Gym Challengers—jeering the Motostoke boys' football team, middle school this time. Plenty of sightings of Team Yell, all Spikemuth natives with Dark-Type Pokémon—they make a nuisance of themselves but the Gym Challengers handle them.
Is that it? Do I just need to challenge each and every one of those detractors? Shut them up by force? It's not impossible. Perhaps that would work out their frustrations, or perhaps just show I'm not one to be bullied into obscurity, not again.
Changing tack, I sign into the Pokémon League site and navigate to my registered Pokémon. Rose, Iris, and Lily—I open each of their data in a new tab, along with their expected trajectories; moves they'll unlock, stats, EVs/IVs, everything.
Buzzing. I trudge over to my backpack and fish out my Dex, finding a text.
From Papa: "Bring Furfrou and Aegislash with you."
To Papa: "I'm not going out, but if I do, I will."
Click send, and dial Junebug.
"Took you long enough," she answers on the fifth ring. "I'm in the backyard with sensei."
"Not ready yet. I need a plan."
"Get stronger ain't enough?"
"Not for me it isn't. Gotta go." I hang up and call Coach Davis.
"Ladira. I've been working on a plan." Truly a godsend, she is. "We need to discuss and schedule it all in."
I check the time on my laptop, finding it to be ten in the morning. "Join me for," I'm not ready to jump back in, and she'll hope for that, "for breakfast tomorrow? I still need to—"
"We should meet up for lunch. To discuss my ideas and offer any insights you might need. No actions needed, just talking and hashing this out." There's merit in that. "Would you prefer if I come over?"
Sigh. "Alright. Call before you ring on, so I know it's you."
8-8
[plan me a plan]
I tear out a scrap of paper and write 'Becca+Kat HW' and mark it down for three hours, adding it to the melange of other things that need doing just now. Shifting my homework to the evening, after dinner, that gives me a better opening between ten AM and one PM to help the girls. An hour for lunch. That way I can do my two hours of violin after breakfast, and perhaps—
"We could split our sessions," Coach suggests, taking another scrap and writing 'Coach' and slipping two hours in the morning and two in the afternoon.
Hmm. That could work. Yes, this is a good full-tilt day. I enter that into my Dex's agenda app, for coming Monday. That gives me three days to build up to a healthy rhythm.
Right, now for my build-up towards it. I'll need to call J—
My Dex rings. Video call from Junebug?
"Someone's eager," I answer.
"Of course. Got a plan. Taking you out for lunch, bringing you back home for dinner. Don't worry, just you and me. To a Battleground to work out your frustration."
I take my homework scrap and add Junebug to it. "You're joining me for dinner. We'll handle homework after. Not just tonight. But until school starts."
The toothy grin she rewards me with leaves me breathless as I shift a few things around for my build-up. My cheeks warm and tighten; throat clears for me to soldier on.
"I'll also need you here from ten AM to one PM, to help with Kat and Becca. I can handle the homework, but…"
"Fair. Then I want at least an hour a day to steal you away. Battleground, lunch, don't care. Something. Now stop stalling or I start ringing on."
I hang up, set my Dex on the table, and head for the front door—spying through the peeper to confirm she's there before I open. My Junebug walks right in, closes and locks the door behind her, before shooing me right back into the living room and joins Coach and I at the dinner table.
"Yeah, no. You need more empty space planned in." Janette grabs a few scraps and writes chill-time on them, slipping them in between each activity. "Don't care if you use it for violin or for playing dress-up. You need to warm up before you go hard."
"This is my Monday schedule. I'm planning on only handling," I move Becca and Kat's scrap out, and leave only the afternoon training with Coach in, "these starting tomorrow."
"Fair. But I reserve the right to kidnap you the second I decide you need it."
I cock an eyebrow. "As if you'll listen if I say otherwise?"
Junebug scratches along her jawline, her lips curled down for a moment. "Point. Hey, Coach? You mind if we do joint sessions in the afternoons? I need a reason to tell Sensei that mornings with her is enough. Please?"
I throw back my head, laughter erupting that I don't bother fighting. Junebug's pitiful whimper and begging eyes just caught me all kinds of off guard.
"That could work." Coach looks over the schedule and moves our afternoon session from two to four, so we should finish up before dinner. That's not a bad idea.
"And I'm reserving the same right." I give Junebug a look and a cocked eyebrow. Her head jerks back. "To clear your schedule if I think you need it."
"Psh." She waves it off. "I already warned Sensei. If she tries to stop you, it's on her."
I nod, accepting she's being truthful. She knows how I am, after all. "We need a reward system for the girls."
"How about we alternate?" Junebug suggests, taking two new scraps. One is marked with HW, the other PkMn training and both land side-by-side on their homework slot. "If they get through their coursework, we take them into the backyard and show them some tricks?"
Hmm. "Might work for Kat. We'll have to see what Rebecca's into."
"I'd say it's a safe bet, but we can discuss it with them on Monday?"
I nod, agreeing that makes the most sense. "I want to go shopping in the morning. Tag along?"
"Blake and Miley?"
"Mmhmm!" I beam. "I'll call Amandine?"
"Sure. I need you to help me pick something out for your big day."
I groan. "That completely slipped my mind."
"I discussed it with your Ma. It's just a long weekend to Camphrier. Family and only family."
"Good." I sigh, contented. It'll be a ball, no doubt in my mind. But if it's just with family, that means I can just be—better than the alternative. "You're coming?"
"Uh-huh." Junebug nods, her gaze softens as she slips an arm around my middle and hugs my side. "Your Ma wouldn't even hear any other option. Was bugging me about which of the girls you'd invite, but I...dunno." Her head finds its way onto my shoulder. "What do you want?"
"Hmm?" We could at least ask them if they're interested, I suppose. My fingers work themselves into Junebug's hair, scratching her scalp just the way she likes it. "Coach? Could I steal you away as well?" I'd better call Mr Alphonse and Mr Gerald as well. Better to keep a healthy rhythm going, since Grandmère will no doubt have meetings and the like.
8-8
[putting in the work]
Lily beats her wings with a powerful stroke that jerks her a solid metre straight up, leaving only empty space for the Yamper to Tackle—well, other than Riolu in his ready stance to Counter. Before the attack lands, Riolu rams a flying roundhouse kick into the opponent's face, flinging them back towards their Trainer.
The alley is suddenly silent as the grave. The Ace Trainer duo in their red tracksuits and trainers, the referees, even the still standing Eevee; they stare, jaws on the pavement, as Lily uses Hone Claws once again and readies for the next attack.
Nothing happens. No words, no sounds, no movement. So Lily uses Hone Claws for the fifth time as Riolu charges Eevee. I agree—we're ready.
"Yamper is unable to battle!" The referee raises his flag, giving the point to us.
"Power Trip!" Lily jets upward and down into the fray.
"Eevee, Detect!" The Ace Trainer finally gets into gear.
"Feint!" Junebug calls out—that should deal with the Detect. Riolu rushes ahead and throws a haymaker that Eevee easily ducks away from, only to miss the roundhouse kick to the face that flings them back—they take a nasty tumble and is further lambasted by Lily's glowing black talons, knocking them almost to the other end of the Battleground.
Eevee struggles to stand, dust-laden face scrunched up in discomfort but eyes shining with determination. Their Trainer encourages, begs, for them to get up. They drop, down for the count.
"Eevee is unable to battle! The match goes to Trainers Green and Mercier!"
Rose looks on, neither cheering nor disgusted by what she sees. She peers up at me, her little eyes more curious than anything.
"It's alright." I pet her green helmet, my hand trailing down to cup her cheek. "I'm not going to ask you to battle until you're ready. Okay?"
"Ralts." Rose nods and peers out at Lily and Riolu. The pup jumps around, all excited with another win, before making a mad dash for Janette and tackling her and licking her face all over. Lily, on the other hand, flutters over to me and lands on my shoulder, looking proud as punch and obviously here for her praise.
I reach up and scratch under her beak, teasing a pleased prii and an almost purr-like crooning from her.
"What do you think? Enough for one day?" I ask, still scratching her as she deserves—and obviously wants. Lily nods, but makes no move to return to her ball. "Alright, but remember. You aren't licensed, so you'll have to go back into your Ball when we're leaving, okay?" We really need to see to that. I like having the option of keeping her out if she wants to explore the city with us.
"Rook." Lily nods and jumps up onto my head—I assume for a better vantage point. Maybe she feels like roosting in my hair.
"Rose? May I have Iris's Ball, please?"
"Ralts!" Rose reaches into my purse and digs out a Ball, checking it for the sticker before offering it to me. I spy the red Ponyta sticker before maximizing and waiting for the next match to start.
While I'm dealing with little things, Junebug collects our winnings and sets up the next challenger, as she has done for the last hour. I'm definitely cooking up something nice later.
A Camper and a Picknicker, judging by the all-green outfits and matching caps. They either came from a scouts meeting or prefer the look. To each their own, I suppose.
The referees do the introductions as soon as Junebug's at my side, so I hold out Iris's Ball and call her out to play. Junebug sends out her Wooloo, letting Riolu relax in her once again poofy mane. And our opponents send out a Squirtle and a Geodude? A Kantonian Geodude, from the look of them—that one's apt to be the more substantial challenge, given we've no Water or Grass moves, and Junebug's Fighter is on the bench.
Hmm, but they present the solution themselves, I should think. "We need to manoeuvre their Water Gun to hit Geodude."
"Nah, I got this. Just hang back." Copycat? That's one way of handling it.
8-8
[Dinner with the Greens]
Janette and her three brothers take their seats beneath the parasol in our backyard as I clink the final plate down. Rose squirms in her highchair and makes a pick-me-up motion, obviously in no mood to be babied tonight. Is it because the Greens' Pokémon are all out, eating from their own bowls strewn about the grass? I don't know, but seeing the collection of Kalosian Pokémon in the hands of Galar natives somehow feels…right.
I scoop Rose and her bowl up, taking my seat beside Junebug and setting my baby in my lap so we can eat. Not that Janette's brothers have the decency to wait for us, already huddled over their plates as they perform their best vacuum cleaner impersonations. Still, they're not making a mess of things, so it's easily overlooked.
"Raaaaaaa." Rose holds up a spoonful of risotto, intent on feeding me for a change. To avoid her making a mess, I set her spoon down, scoop her up, and seat her on the tabletop. Undeterred, Rose picks up her spoon, carefully scoops up the food I 'spilled' and offers it a second time. "Raaaaaa."
"Aaaaah." I accept her offering, smiling just for her as she fusses over our shared dinner, trying to feed herself as well.
My Dex vibrates. Checking the screen, papa's on a video call.
"Papa?" I answer, curious what's going on.
"Raaaaaa." Rose offers me another spoonful.
"The Greens are with you?" Papa looks as calm and composed as ever, but my every hair stands on end just the same.
I switch to the rear camera and show Janette and her brothers and their Pokémon eating. When I'm sure he's satisfied—the relieved sigh is telling, after all—I switch back to the fore camera and cock an eyebrow.
"Nothing to worry about, princess. Just wanted to check." We exchange a few pleasantries, but papa has to go soon after that, so we cut the call short. Uh-huh.
"Raaaaaaa." Rose offers me the last spoonful, beaming with pride that she is able to help me. I gobble it, and quickly gather the dishes, bringing everything into the kitchen to wash them. When Janette and her elder brothers all make themselves comfortable in the living room, turning on the tv to watch the game, it finally clicks; they aren't here for food, it's a subtle security detail, and one I'm not apt to complain about.
Clicking on the dishwasher, I scoop up Rose and make my way upstairs, tossing over my shoulder, "Make yourselves at home. Beers are in the fridge. And there's junk food in the pantry."
Footsteps follow me upstairs, even into my room. Janette plops into my swivel chair, reverse-cowgirl style, and she turns to face me. Uh-huh.
Something happened. Something big and it has papa nervous. Or perhaps Mr Green is the one that's nervous, since he has his boys downstairs guarding our home. Either way, we've homework to sort out.
I boot up my laptop and log in, opening my school folder with all the digital textbooks and study schedules detailing our summer homework. "Give me five minutes and I'll work out what we need to focus on."
8-8
[father-daughter]
A knock at my bedroom door. Janette and I share a look, setting aside our algebra assignment just as the door swings open to reveal papa.
"Is it already that late?" Janette asks, giving me a 'what can you do' look. I roll my eyes. Figuring this out isn't hard. At all. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
I bookmark the page in the e-book and save the word documents with all my notes and work, clapping my laptop closed. I'm tempted to ask her if we're still on for that morning workout in the Battleground, but…from the look on papa's face, something major is about to change, and likely permanently.
It's that same look. That guilt-ridden, please don't hate me for doing this but I'll understand if you do look. The one he'd always wear as he informs me our next flight is booked, that we're leaving.
A queasy unease settles in my gut, one that only amplifies as Janette walks out of my room. It ramps up further as she quietly closes the door behind her. And it ratches up to nausea as her footsteps retreat down the stairs.
I just sit here, hugging my plushie for emotional support, bracing myself for the inevitable emotional grenade about to explode.
My gaze lingers on the poofy woven pinks and purples of the mat I recently purchased. Somehow, seeing papa's perfectly shined black dress shoes pressing down into the dizzying pattern of the little rug feels…wrong. Like he's about to stamp out what little peace I've found. Like I'm going to have to put this, everything, into storage, because 'there won't be enough space for it'.
"We're not moving." Simple words. Such simple, potent words. Words I desperately want to believe, but somehow can't bring myself to.
"What are you nervous to tell me?" My grip on the stuffed Drowzee gets to be a bit much as I alternate between idly stroking the little trunk and picking at the button eye.
Papa's shoes clap against the wooden flooring, looming closer and closer until at last he ploffs onto my bed beside me, tilting and all but shunting me towards him. I lean into him, into his tense and quivering one-armed hug, unwilling to see the pinched look I know he sports just now. "I got a call. A few days back. I…just don't know how to even begin telling you, that…"
"Grandmère…?" Emotion wraps around my throat like a vice. She's in her eighties. Intellectually, I know it's possible, but I…my heart isn't ready to face such a thing.
"She's in good health, but…" Papa's cheek smushes against my brow. "I screwed up, princess."
"No one's dying?"
"Well. Not any more than your average day."
"We're not leaving Hulbury?"
"Just the trip to Mercier manor."
No funeral. No moving day. No losing Janette after finding her at long last. "Then it can't be that bad."
Papa hugs me a little closer, as if fearing this will be the last time I allow him. "Maman announces her successor on your birthday."
"Hmm." I smile, slithering an arm around papa. "Meline Mercier, Baroness of Camphrier. Has a nice ring to it."
"Maman, she," papa's shin quivers, "she said this…can wait no longer."
"I'm home." Two words I never thought I'd ever get to speak and mean it.
Papa pulls back, takes me by my shoulders, and turns me to him. My hands cup his cheeks, drying the sparse tears he sheds. I hug him, my arms draping around his shoulders as I snuggle up, curling my legs over his lap. When he wraps me in his embrace, I sigh, content.
Content that this dream will last a little longer.
8-8
[breakfast proposals]
I sprinkle a little cinnamon onto my porridge, squeeze some honey, and add strawberry and kiwi chunks, before mixing it all into a gorgeous mess of my good morning. Satisfied, I slurp my mocha latte and idly spy Rose, Lily, and Iris, each working in their own meals. I give it a minute before Rose decides she wants some of mine.
Monday morning has finally arrived. Papa works his tie, fingers flicking over his Dex as he goes over whatever notes he, or more accurately his secretary, made for the start-of-week meeting he has coming up.
"Unacceptable. I made myself perfectly clear." While we—papa, his two main Pokémon, me, and my three Pokémon I intent to keep—sit to, or near, the breakfast bar, maman keeps her Dex pinned between her ear and shoulder while decorating papa's baguette with tomato slices and freshly chopped lettuce and slivers of silver onions and hardboiled egg slices. She shakes the bottle of dijon, squeezing a thick rope of the dressing onto the sandwich. "You'll do no such thing."
Papa and I share a look, both of us fighting not to laugh at maman's impromptu meeting at seven in the morning. I'm not sure why she's even awake this early, but the flagon of espresso she sporadically sips from, between chewing out whoever she called this early, shows she's up with a clear purpose.
"By the way," papa loops my hair behind my ear, the action tickling me just enough to tease a smile from me, "have you given any thought as to your future? University? That sort of thing?"
"Mmhmm." I chew the last of my mouthful and swallow. "I checked my autumn syllabus. I'm to intern at a company, one day a week. So I figure nepotism should work just fine."
Papa snorts, his eyes lit up. "I'll see if I can swing a project for you." He winks.
"If it helps?" I bite my lip. "I wouldn't mind a travelling gig. As long as it's in Galar."
Papa shakes his head, no. "I have other plans for you. We'll discuss it when the details are hammered out." Little to be done about it, then. He checks his watch as a horn honks outside. Maman, knowing what that means, quickly wraps up papa's lunch and sets it on the breakfast counter for him. They share a quick peck, and papa kisses my brow before he heads out.
Just as the front door clicks shut and locks, my Dex vribrates. An emergency meeting at Eventide? In an hour? I wave to get maman's attention and show it to her.
"I know, sweet pea. I'm arranging something for you." Eyes narrow. I don't like where this is going. At all. "I'm aware, but—" Maman grabs her phone and switches it to her other ear, shifting her weight to her other foot. "You're not wrong. I'll handle it. I said, I'll handle it." Maman hangs up and clatters her phone onto the breakfast bar.
"Maman?"
"Sweet pea, listen to me. Things are… delicate just now."
"What's going on? What are you hiding from me?"
"There's no easy way to say it." Maman sighs, her shoulders tense even as they slump. "Your grandfather found out. And he's livid that you don't have a proper entourage. As such, he's… taken steps without my knowing."
"Translation?" I cock an eyebrow. If my maternal grandfather is getting involved and maman is so careful about trying to break it to me, it can't be good.
"He demands you take at least a maidservant, to ensure you're kept safe."
"Safe?"
"He saw you. On the news, and though he's grateful the company's agents were there, he knows you take too strongly after me. So…?"
"And the meeting at Eventide?"
"Your papa called them about hiring early. Please, sweet pea. You'd not only be employing someone in desperate need of work, but you'd be setting your papa and I at ease."
"Maman, I can take care of—"
"Ladira Delphine Mercier." I tense on instinct. Hearing not just full name, but the don't you dare interrupt me tone? "Do you think I've not considered your stance in this? That I haven't weighed your safety against your comfort? What if the next riot breaks out and you hadn't received any indication? No agents at your side? Nowhere to run, and they have you in their sights? What then? You would ask that I pray for your safety instead of ensuring it?"
Unable to face the fears worn on her sleeve or the tears welling up in her eyes, I look away.
"I'm begging you. Don't make me have to choose between your safety and your happiness."
Sigh.
8-8
[Introducing: Battlemaids (TM)]
Our homeroom buzzes with vibrating Dexes and murmurs in a melange of languages. It's hard to make out any of it, and Mrs Auvrey seems quite accepting of it as she sips her coffee at her desk.
"Your parents talked to you about it?" Junebug asks. I nod—what else is there to do. I don't like the idea of servants, maman's side of the family are notorious horrid towards them and that always rubbed me the wrong way. "And…?" Junebug slinks closer to me, dragging her chair over the wooden floor.
Sigh. "I'm not keen on the idea, but I appreciate their logic."
"Hmm. You talked to your dad about the internship?"
"Briefly?" I give her an unsure sideglance. "Just too much going on, I guess."
A knock at the door. The room falls eerily silent. I'm not sure what that's about, honestly. I mean, most of our classmates come from affluent families—they should be quiet accustomed to all this. It's Blake, Miley, and Elaine that worry me.
The waitstaff from introductions saunter in, elegant as ballerinas. They line up along the smartboard, behind Mrs Auvrey, with their arms crossed at the wrist and their eyes downcast.
Dark blue long sleeve dresses, with ruffled white sleeves and their hem draping down to their ankles. A white apron, with ruffled edges. Comfortable-looking flats, thankfully—maman's side of the family tend to like the look of a maid in heels, for some reason, but I can't imagine that would be comfortable to walk in all day. And that stereotypical poofy white hat with a dark blue ribbon I could never make sense of.
"Good morning, ladies." Mrs Auvrey announces she's ready to begin.
"Good morning, Mrs Auvrey," we chorus.
"I'm sure you've all heard the news." Mrs Auvrey walks around her desk and sits atop it, regarding us with an unreadable expression. "About our baseball team being the centre of attention during that most unfortunate event in Motostoke." I roll my eyes, but don't comment. "Eventide cannot, and will not, take risks with our ladies. As such, we've contacted your parents to discuss a change in itinerary."
The maids don't move, but somehow they seem nervous. Like a tension that wasn't there a moment ago crowds out the world.
"I'm sure you've heard of Eventide's Battlemaids." Mrs Auvrey motions to the maids behind her. "Though they've only recently acquired their licences, their battle prowess meets Eventide's stringent expectations." If anything, the maids look even more nervous. "Ordinarily, we wouldn't couple them to you until they've had some time to study you. Your customs, your expectations, and your demeanour. As such, I would ask that you be patient with them whilst they find their footing in your employ."
Three hands shoot up—Blacke, Miley, and Elaine. No doubt worried about costs.
"I'm aware of your situations, ladies." Mrs Auvrey's soothing tone has my classmates' hands wavering, but not lowering. "We'll address this now, if you prefer?"
Blake and Miley nervously peer about, seeming hyperaware of our class.
"Mrs Auvrey?" Elaine doesn't bother to, likely already used to standing out. "How would I afford such a thing? I am, after all, not as affluent as many of our class."
"I assure you, Ms West, Eventide is well aware of these simple truths. For ladies here on either grant or scholarship, Eventide foots the bill during your curriculum. All other specifics ought to be discussed with Mrs Dujardin."
Yoshifumi's hand glides up.
"Ms Yoshifumi?"
"Would it be fair for those better situated to be allowed more leniency, in exchange?"
"Do you mean to ask if the wealthier ladies of my homeroom are allowed to take more than one Battlemaid to counterbalance what you feel is an unfair advantage to students who earned their admittance to Eventide academy?"
"Yes, Mrs Auvrey. That is the nature of my inquiry." Yoshifumi isn't even phased by the pointed warning. "It is, after all, our tuition that pays for boh their advantage and your salary, is it not?"
Amandine's hand eases upward, her neatly plucked and trimmed eyebrows at an even keel as if unperturbed.
"Ms de Verley?"
"Though I disagree with Ms Yoshifumi's lack of tact, and even more so with her questionable decorum." Amandine's gaze flickers to Ms Yoshifumi, as close to reproachful as is acceptable in the situation. "I must admit to my curiosity in the matter as well. It is, after all, advantageous for Eventide Academy to ensure all licensed and available Battlemaids and their counterparts be employed?"
Ms Yoshifumi interlaces her fingers, trying to maintain composure. For the best. She is no longer at the top of the food chain, not in this class.
"That is a train of thought I am willing to entertain. Yes, Ms de Verley. It is both in Eventide's and our vocational branch's best interests, as you say. However, I would like to remind you all that Eventide has a long history in serving Hulbury as a whole, and not just those gazing out at the world from their ivory tower."
Ms Yoshifumi smiles, far too serene to ever appear upset. Oh, boy. I had best email Mrs Auvrey to warn her of Ms Yoshifumi's temperament.
"Furthermore. I would advise all ladies to consider not just our Battlemaids. Though famous and desirable across Galar, if not the world, we boast an array of skilled employees in need of stable employment. We also have monthly galas to showcase our musicians and artisans.
"I would, however, be most wise to advise caution." Mrs Auvrey smiles right back at Ms Yoshifumi, as if in understanding, if not acceptance, of what's to come. "None are owed loyalty. It is earned and fostered. As such, if any of our Battlemaids refuse your employ, there's nothing you, or your families, can do about it."
Ms Yoshifumi's eye twitches, the serenity lost.
"Having said that." Mrs Auvrey motions to the Battlemaids, who swoop in. Ten Battlemaids, the same ten from introductions. The Battlemaid who had tended to me, saunters over to my desk and curtseys. Her black hair is tied back in a tight bun, her makeupless face is… rather plain—bushy eyebrows, broad nose, and a mole on her sharp chin. But I don't need a beauty queen, just someone to keep me safe—or papa and maman from complaining about me having a life.
"Ms Mercier." Her Camphrier accent is understated, but the slight drag on her S is telling.
"It is good to see you again." I bow my head, tilting it slightly to one side. "Though I fear my memory fails me at present."
"Understandable, My Lady. Please, I am Marie Grenier. Camphrier native." Ms Grenier holds out an A4-size envelope I hadn't noticed before, slowly setting it on my desk. "My resumé and all pertinent details."
I take the pristine envelope and unfold the flap, sliding the stack of paperwork out and spreading them out to get a good overview of her history. Trainer's licence. Driver's licence, valid in both Galar and Kalos, that's a plus. Pilot's licence with Noivern, and routes she regularly flies—Lumiose and Camphrier, a plus if ever there was one.
Certificate of conduct, issued from Hulbury PD and Lumiose PD. Excellent. Kalos passport with Galar residence and work permits—with all the proper seals, good. Kalos cuisine training, with a letter of recommendation from her instructor—don't recognize the name, but his recommendation bears Eventide's letterhead. Minored in Pokémon first aid and breeding.
Her Pokémon team, with stats printed from the League's site. A level fifty-two Noivern, named Noppy. A level twenty-six Lopunny, named Luffy, wearing a Kalos maid's outfit and duster in hand, with a note attached that she's trained to assist in domestic duties. And a level eighteen Audino, named Bert, wearing a butler's suit, with a note that he's trained both as a team healer and makes for an excellent scout. I love her penchant for quirky nicknames, and each is licenced.
Ooh. Battle Rank records. Ms Grenier has an eighty-three percent win rate and is a Rank Four. I turn—
"Rank Four, huh." Junebug peers over my shoulder, earning herself a swat for startling me. "Pretty decent." She doesn't bother with my reaction, instead plucking up the Battle Rank records and perusing them. "Even made it through the Little Leagues. Impressive."
Ms Grenier curtseyes at the compliment, though she's no doubt curious as to why Junebug is suddenly involved.
"I'd say she's a safe bet," Junebug says and lays the stack on my desk. "What do you make of this?" She hands me the stack from her Battlemaid.
"I cannot offer you an official welcome, however," I carefully stack Ms Grenier's paperwork and slip them back into the envelope, "I am confident enough to invite you to meet my parents."
"I am most grateful, My Lady." Ms Grenier takes her envelope back from me and curtseyes. I motion for her to join me, and she eagerly makes her way around my desk, standing at my flank. With that handled, I open the new envelope and check Junebug's Battlemaid for her.
Eva Reis. No driver's licence. Certificate of conduct issued by Hulbury PD. I hand the Battle Rank records to Junebug, since I know little about that. Has only one Pokémon on her team, a level seventy Rillaboom. Don't know much about that Mon, but it's a printout of the League's site, so it's apt to be legit. No drivers licence, no passport, and no flyer—that could present a problem if Junebug intends to travel. Curiously, she majored in Galar survival—there's an essay on edible plantlife attached to her certificate. Her letter of recommendation is written by a martial artist—I hand that to Junebug, figuring she'll enjoy that titbit more than most. Minored in bookkeeping and administration, both things Junebug has no patience for.
"A bit of a fixer-upper, but not a bad choice. Do you know her?"
"From around the way." Junebug makes a vague handwave. Not very well, it seems.
I motion the Battlemaid over. She takes up the spot Ms Grenier occupied but a moment ago.
"You seem well-travelled. Is there a reason you don't have a passport?" I ask.
"I've not needed one, Miss," Ms Reis says. She looks to Junebug, questions in her eyes. A common reason, honestly. Most can't afford travel, so having a passport you won't use…? "I've explored the length and breadth of Galar?" And the uptick shows she knows she isn't the crème de la crème. Still, for the rough and tumble gorgeous mess that is my Junebug?
"If you take her, you might want to consider expanding her core team. Perhaps an assistant to help her with her duties. A mount and likely a flyer. And getting her passport in order, just in case, wouldn't be a bad thing. Maybe getting her driver's licence, as well. Beyond that, everything is in order, near as I can tell." I stack the paperwork and slip them back into the envelope, handing it back to Junebug.
"Awesome. Thanks." Janette offers the envelope back to Ms Reis. "Welcome aboard, Eva. You can call me Green."
Unsurprisingly, Miley, Black, and Elaine come my way, envelopes in hand and eyes begging.
8-8
[Hypocrisy is a thing]
"It would prove advantageous to consider such things," maman says, hooking her hair behind her ear, unable to meet my gaze.
"It certainly would. Especially for the project I prepare for you." Papa is every bit as bad. Despite the fact that neither of them could stomach life as nobility, despite them both rebelling and doing as they please with their life. And—not unimportant—despite them both enjoying the simple life for as long as I've been alive, if not longer.
"And where do we house her?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow at them. "Let alone the dozen you argue for."
Our living room falls silent. Of course it does. Ms Grenier is upstairs taking a shower, unwinding after helping me with my day—lucky her, being spared this conversation.
"Look. I love you and I'm willing to negotiate a peaceful solution to all this. But I am not agreeing for the sake of agreeing. So please explain what is really going on here."
Papa's the first to look away. I see. Maman soon follows. Uh-huh.
"In other words. Clan Mercier is giving papa a hard time because of the lifestyle choice that they feel caused grandmere to pass me over. And Clan Ashford is using this as an excuse why I should be treated as 'one of them'. Correct?"
"Sweet pea, please try to un—"
"How can I understand what you don't explain?"
Maman and papa share a look. He shrugs, she bites her lip and looks down at her folded hands.
"You win," maman caves at last. "The situation is this. Because his mother passed you over, my uncle claims you should be raised as 'a true Ashford'," maman even does the air quotes, rolling her eyes, "and is threatening uncomfortable actions."
"And the reason Uncle Francois hasn't been informed?" I ask.
"Because," papa rubs his brow, "he's not wholly in the wrong."
I look from maman to papa, eyes narrowing at how small they both suddenly look. "About…?"
"Sweet pea, we've," maman takes papa's hand and he wraps an arm around her shoulder, "we've done our best with you, but…could we really offer you the life he could?"
I bink. Head tilts to one side. "What?"
"This house, it is nothing compa—"
"No." I don't even wait for the pity parade that ass no doubt showered them in over the last few days. "I don't care what that man thinks is best for me. I care about my family, you two. So. Let's try this. Is he paying for my tuition at Eventide?"
Maman jerks back. "No, of course not. Sweet pea, your father's company pays for that. It's part of the benefits."
"Is he paying for this house?"
Papa snorts, shaking his head in disgust. "He would never. Not for something this, in his words, claustrophobic."
"Are we struggling to pay our bills or put food on the table?" Come on, papa. Use that brain of yours. Figure this out!
"If things were that tight, I'd go back to teaching," maman says.
"Ms Grenier's salary and benefits?" This should be the last piece, I should think.
Maman and papa share a look, as if discussing it for the first time. "No, sweet pea. That's not an issue either."
"Then what are you so depriving me of that you feel that ass can offer me a better life?"
Footsteps come down the stairs. Ms Grenier quietly heads for the kitchen and quietly starts setting out tea.
"Family," maman finally says. "Sweetheart, you've… you've been amazing, but uncle's right. I've not been living up to my role as mother, ch—"
"Then how can we," I motion to them and back to myself, "make changes to fix that?"
"I…" Maman works her jaw. "You're… not upset with us?"
"I'm furious," I intone, clearly being sarcastic. "You're a horrid shrew." I roll my eyes to hammer it home. The giggling from the kitchen sets maman's cheeks ablaze. "Are we going to talk this through, or are you two going to continue dancing around a clear non-issue?"
"It's just," maman looks at papa and back at me, "well, security is so much tighter at Mercier Manor, let alone Ashford Heights."
"Okay. Should we start looking into a security system? Perhaps discussing options with Mr Green? Surely he could point us in the right direction."
"Not that, we already…" Maman trails off, her eyes darting to the state of the art security system papa had installed before we even moved in.
Ms Grenier comes, setting out tea for everyone.
"Please," I motion to the empty chair beside me, "join us."
8-8
[preparations]
I turn onto my side, peering out into the early morning light pooling into my room. My sleeping bag lies dormant across the way, Ms Grenier's sleeping face poking up from its depths.
Sigh. Tuesday. Three more days and we make for Kalos, for Camphrier Town. The Mercier family will no doubt be on papa's case about this, that, and the other to bully him into living according to their perceived version of reality. Sigh. I'll see if I can convince him to just not tag along. The last thing I need is for him freaking out again and trying to 'make a lady' out of me.
I haven't even spoken to the girls about coming along. It could be a prime opportunity to do some shopping in Lumiose, maybe some travelling in the Kalosian countryside and visit the Parfum Palace. Are we flying by plane, or is this another Pokéflight? I'll see if I can pester papa about it over breakfast to get some answers out of him. He never did like revealing such details in advance, not even to me.
Speaking of. I need to discuss things with Ms Grenier. With it being my first 'full tilt' day yesterday, we simply didn't have the time to really get into the nitty gritty. She has three partners on her team. Does she want to keep it at three? Does she want another battler and keep her assistants on the bench? She'll need a mount, after all. And would she want to accompany us to Camphrier Town? Does she even like wearing a maid's outfit?
I turn onto my back, staring up at the slanted powder blue ceiling.
It's hard to imagine Ms Grenier enjoys sleeping on the floor in my room, but the only available room is the studio, and I can't imagine her being very comfortable in there, unless she enjoys sleeping on a piano instead.
More importantly, however, is one key factor. The Ashfords are rearing their ugly heads again. I need to figure out a way to ensure my parents don't go agreeing to stupid ideas or succombing to that ass's pressure. It might be smart to start figuring out a means to support myself.
As much as it sucks, if push comes to shove, I am not going to allow even my parents to dictate my life again if it means another move. We had a deal, we're staying in Hulbury until further notice. I'm holding them to that, even if it means staying here alone.
I am not losing Junebug again. Never again.
I ease out of bed, careful not to make too much noise to rouse Ms Grenier, and slink out of my room. Downstairs, I find maman and papa already in the kitchen. Oh boy. Here we go again.
"Happy birthday, sweet pea." Maman tugs my arm and presses a kiss to my brow as I lean in. "We were just talking about preparations for this weekend."
I grumble something, dunno what, and slump into the chair at the breakfast bar beside papa.
"Happy birthday," papa murmurs and kisses my crown. I slump against him, leaning into his warmth. A soft clank on wood. Maman sets my morning coffee on the bar for me.
I straighten up and wrap my hands around the warm mug, taking the first sip to jolt my brain awake properly. If they're both awake at this hour, again, and my coffee's prepared, this is going to be round two—hopefully including them not being idiots for a change.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel your plans for the day," maman says. "We've come up with a plan and I think you're going to like it."
I slurp, loud enough for them to hear it.
"Hear me out before you decide you're annoyed." I slurp louder. "You're sixteen now. Old enough to live on your own, if you want to. Old enough to be independent."
I set my already half empty mug on the counter.
"What Theo proposed, and I fully agree with, is buying you your own house, to do with as you please. And a car so Maire can chauffeur you around as you please."
"You do realise," I cock an eyebrow, "that I've saved up enough money to buy one if I wanted?"
Papa chuckles. "She got her brains from me, she did."
"Ladira." Maman sets a bowl of porridge and two of sliced fruits before me. "What I'm suggesting is to start investing in a steady income. To give those ignorant fools nothing to sling at you. Your papa and I, we want to help you with this. And I want us to see to it first thing. Does that make sense?"
"You feel guilty." I spoon up some blueberries and banana slices into my porridge. "But is this really about apologizing for giving into their idiocy, or guarding me from it?"
"It's about preparing you for the future, sweetie," papa claims. A bit of both, in other words. "And the housing market is cheap here. So it's not a bad idea to invest."
"What are the Ashfords doing to show you up?" I ask, stirring my porridge around as I lather on some honey.
Maman sighs. "They bought Allie Parfum Palace."
Uh-huh. "So we're investing in an income for me, so you can say they only invested in expenses for her?"
Silence. They have a wordless exchange I can't decode through my caffeine deficiency. I bring my first spoonful to my lips and gently blow.
"While there is an element of bragging in there," papa drapes his arm over my shoulder, "this isn't about them, not to me." Maman's Ashford heritage rears its ugly head, then. Noted. "What I want is to ensure my daughter is situated. Does that make sense?"
8-8
End Chapter Seven
8-8
A/N: Sorry this took so long. Honestly, I've been swamped with other projects. Hope you guys enjoy!