Isaac and I sat on the steps to the castle on a warm summer afternoon. The four-year-old squirmed in my lap. He was anxious, and I couldn’t blame him. We were both waiting for the same thing. I smoothed my fingers through his brown hair, trying to get the kid to relax. He looked up at me, his chocolate brown eyes shimmering in the sunlight.
The gates to the palace grounds slowly opened. Isaac squirmed some more, but I held onto him. The guards at the top of the steps looked down at us. It was a long-standing tradition that children couldn’t run up to the king. That even went for his children. We were working hard to get rid of many of the ridiculous traditions Jacob’s father kept in place. This was one that the guards still held. We’d change their minds. Eventually.
The limo
