…and all of a sudden, I am back into it! I had mega writer's block on this one, but then I got a bunch of reviews and the warm fuzzy feeling of positive feedback encouraged me to whip out this chapter at 11:30 pm and post it immediately.

Thank you, by the way, for all of the reviews, especially on Chapter 7! I could do a whole Appreciation Chapter on everyone who left feedback, but I don't think that's what the majority of you are interested in reading, so I'll just leave it as a big generic 'thank you' to the whole lot of you.

PS- I got the idea for this chapter by rereading Happily Ever After. As much as I hated Clarkson in the original trilogy, I found him HILARIOUS in Amberley's novella. AND FOR GOD'S SAKE, BRING SOME BUTTER!1!111!

I awoke to a thump. Because I lived on the same floor as Kaden and Osten, thumps in the night were not all that unusual, but this one felt different. It sounded closer, first and foremost, like it was in my very room, and that right there was enough to make me sit bolt upright and look around for the source.

I saw something at the foot of my bed, but my vision was still blurry with sleep, so I couldn't tell what it was. I rubbed my eyes a couple times to see clearly, but the thing was, that didn't help. The thing at the foot of my bed was blurry, and it seemed it had thrown my lamp across the room. That must've been what woke me up.

The thing was also glowing. I feel like I should have noticed that a bit sooner.

I sat up abruptly, scared. My instinct was either to a) run screaming, or b) hide under my blankets, but I couldn't do either of those things. I was a princess, for god's sakes. I had to see what it was. I rubbed my eyes a little (maybe it was just a dream; I hadn't completely ruled that out yet) and then leaned closer to the glowing object at the foot of my bed.

Oh, dear god.

It was a ghost.

Definitely a ghost.

I screamed and ducked under my quilt. I heard a heavy sigh and then a whoosh, which I imagined to be the sound of the ghost moving. I certainly wasn't looking at it. I remained under the blanket, breathing at a ridiculous tempo and attempting to wake myself up from a dream I wasn't sure I was having.

"ARE YOU DONE?"

The ghost's voice simultaneously seemed to fill the whole room and exist only inside my head. A shiver ran down my spine. Was I going to die? Who was this ghost, anyway? Plenty of people had died in this palace, because of all the rebel attacks in the past and such. It could have been any number of guards or old rebels.

I was curious now, in addition to scared. I lowered my blanket just enough to peep out and get a better look. The ghost was now hovering right over my chest, arms crossed irritably. He looked awfully familiar. I squinted, trying to place him.

He was a big, burly man- that much was evident even though his lower half tapered into a ghostly blur. Though he was mostly see-through, I could tell he was wearing fine clothes, and his thick beard was neatly trimmed.

And he had my father's nose, I realized.

This ghost was family.

"…done with what?" I asked timidly.

"Being a baby!" the ghost exclaimed. Though he spoke less forcefully this time, his voice still filled the whole room, or at least my head. "Don't you recognize me?"

I shook my head slightly.

"I'm your grandfather," he told me slowly, as if I was stupid. "King Clarkson Schreave."

"You're not king anymore," I blurted out, which was not necessarily the smartest thing to do. This guy could probably kill me. "My dad is. Sorry."

The ghost shook his head. "And clearly he didn't raise you to be very respectful! But that's another issue. I'm here to haunt you."

I raised my eyebrow. "Is haunting somebody always this formal? I kind of thought you'd just start jumping out at me and yelling 'boo'. I didn't know you had to declare it."

"Well, this is kind of a special case," Grandpa Clarkson explained. "Normally, people get haunted because they've killed someone or done something truly evil. You're just stupid."

"Hey!" I said indignantly. "If you're going to talk to me like that, I'm going back to bed!"

"Okay," he said with a shrug. "You'll figure it out eventually, I suppose. In the end, you won't really have a choice."

Those were awfully cryptic words, but I was awfully tired. I tucked my blanket around me and rolled over determinedly, telling myself quite frankly that it was all a dream.

…

I continued to believe that when I woke up the next morning. The lamp wasn't broken. There was no blurry old man in my room. Clearly, I had just eaten one too many strawberry tarts the night before, and everything was back to normal.

…I stopped thinking that about halfway through breakfast, when the ghost of Grandpa Clarkson appeared right in front of me on the table.

I couldn't help it. I squeaked. I think a little bit of food dropped out of my mouth.

"Eadlyn!" my mother scolded. "We have guests! Manners!"

I gestured wildly at the ghost. "Do you not see this?"

"See what?"

Clarkson rolled his eyes. "No, Princess, she can't see me. No one but you can see me."

"Why me?" I asked in a low voice, moving my lips as little as possible. To my mom, it still definitely looked like I was talking to myself, but fortunately, Osten chose that moment to spill chocolate milk all over himself, so the Queen's attention went elsewhere.

"I'm here to haunt you," he replied. "I told you that already."

"Well, can you let me eat breakfast, please?" I asked irritably. "You're not very scary. You're just annoying."

"I'm not supposed to be scary," he said dismissively. But, with a pop, he disappeared from the breakfast table, and I was kind of hoping that was that.

…

After breakfast, I went to spectate a croquet game my Elite had started. It was quite hot out. Some of them had their shirts off. I was fairly sure that was not allowed in proper croquet, but I was in no position to be complaining. I adjusted my sunglasses and took a sip of iced tea. This was the life.

"Hey! Snap out of it!"

I nearly spit out my tea. Clarkson popped up at the end of my beach chair, looking as threatening as a translucent fifty-year-old could be. "Could you not?" I sputtered, wiping my mouth. "You keep making me look stupid. Is that what you're here for?"

"I saw what you were doing," he said, glowering at me sternly and ignoring my question. "You were staring at that one."

I blushed. "Uh…you mean Fox? What's wrong with Fox?"

Clarkson's glare somehow became sterner. "You know what I meant?"

I looked down. "So what if I was staring at Erik? He's kinda hot too."

"He! Is! A! Translator!" Clarkson snapped. "He's not eligible. In my day, he'd be, like, a Five. I can't have my granddaughter getting with a Five!"

"Grandpa, you're so old-fashioned."

"You're out of his league, Eadlyn," Clarkson told me something. "Don't tempt yourself with something you can't have. You've got so many reasonable options! Look at Kile over there!"

Kile did look very handsome, but it was weird to be getting boy advice from my dead grandfather. Had he tried bonding with my dad like this? No wonder they'd hated each other.

"You're making this weird, Grandpa," I told him. "Leave me alone."

"Your loss," said Clarkson, and again, he disappeared.

…

The situation quickly got out of hand. Clarkson was getting more opinionated, and the urge to yell at him was getting harder to resist. I'd actually snapped and shouted at him for calling Erik names while I was just trying to have a normal conversation. I think that may have actually been his intent, though, because now Erik thought I was crazy and he was actively avoiding me.

Even when I did, completely by coincidence, end up near Erik, Clarkson had plenty to say. None of it was nice. Within a week, I had his Translators Are Not Classy Enough For A Princess speech memorized, and I was getting close on You Have A Duty To Your Kingdom too. I was going crazy.

It was right before lunch one day, when I was walking to the Great Hall accompanied by the Elite (plus Erik) that I really lost it with Clarkson. He was trying out a new speech; I think it was just called "Erik Sucks", and he was driving me crazy.

"And he's, like, the world's biggest pushover!" Clarkson exclaimed. "Would you really want someone who would do nothing but bend over backwards for you? And never speak his mind? If he even has a mind? What about that Kile fellow over there?"

I'd been trying to ignore Clarkson's speech and hand gestures, but my gaze automatically followed his to Kile. Clarkson had speeches about Kile too, but I hadn't been memorizing those. They weren't very good. Clarkson had clumsily tried to compare Kile's eyes to a summer sky, when I knew they were much more similar to a crashing wave on an Angeles beach. Clearly he didn't know Kile as well as I did.

"Can you shut up?" I hissed to Clarkson. "I don't need your help with my love life, thanks!"

"Clearly, you do," he said dryly. "You like Erik. Erik's, like, the world's crustiest human being! He looks like a fish!"

I meant to ignore him. I really did. But in the end, I just couldn't take it. I grabbed Clarkson by the shirtsleeve (if I caught him by surprise, he was somewhat tangible) and growled into his ear. "I am ending this haunting once and for all."

"HENRI!" I yelled.

My Swendish friend waved at me from across the hall. "Hello!"

"You're kicked out," I told him. "Or, actually, you can stay. Just get a new translator. Erik's fired."

"Oh, thank god," said Erik. "I'll see you weirdos later."

He marched right out of the palace. I turned to Clarkson wearily. "Are you happy now?"

"Thrilled," he said. He shouted after Erik. "PEASANT! BEGONE, THOT!"

"Are you going to go haunt him now?" I asked.

Clarkson shrugged, looking over me and the remaining Elite. "I don't think so, Eady. I kind of want to see how this all plays out."

This chapter is nearly twice as long as any of the others so far. Kinda scares me, tbh. I have NO clue what I'm going to write for the last few chapters so feel free to pm me or leave suggestions as reviews. Thanks.

Thanks to my little sister for hating Erik & being quotable. –Liz