The Royal Nanny

by V Vee

  Leyah sighed. "I know this," she retorted. "But I assure you, Prince Alastair does not see me as a threat to his security or the security of his family. As a matter of fact..." she hesitated, before confessing all. "We have taken quite a shine to each other and I do believe that I can find a way to restore the people of Waldakan to our homeland without any unnecessary bloodshed, or any further attacks upon the royal family." She said. She ignored the looks of incredulity that passed between Danorian and him. Let them think what they wanted. She had served her people well for the last five years in the absence of her parents. She would not steer them wrong. And while her own feelings of connectivity and desire for Alastair prompted the backtrack of her plans, she could not find it in her heart to regret them.

  "You have a plan that would see us restored, and yet, we will do so without bloodshed?" Danorian asked.

  Leyah nodded. "Yes. We will of course have to play dumb on the issue of the missing guards," she cut her eyes in his direction, hoping her own scorn and disappointment in his actions blazed through. "However, Prince Alastair wishes to see us wed, and I have agreed." Or rather he would not allow her to refuse him. Though could she say she really wanted to? No, she could not. "With our wedding the people of Waldakan and the people of Malvidence will be joined together as one. We will negotiate terms have the country of Malvidence and the country of Waldakan joined, so that the people can return to where we were once forcibly removed."

  He scoffed and shook his head. "You believe a fairytale, Princess,” he said. "The royals will not relinquish the land they believe rightfully belongs to them. We must take it by force."

  Leyah swung her head in his direction, where he leaned against the wall of her suite. "Why are you so blood mad? She asked him.

  He chuckled darkly. "I am well versed in the ways of the world, Your Highness. You are not. These are proud men. Alpha men. They will not see their land split up or divided or parsed out to a country, a people, they deem as beneath them. They will not return our land to us. We must snatch it from the cold, dead hands of the oppressor."

  She quirked an eyebrow in his direction. "Are you so oppressed then, Dear Sir? You, who spent so little time in Waldakan. Who has grown up in the very lap of Malvidencian luxury?" She laughed without amusement. "I dare say that many of your people, most Waldakan, would only wish to be afforded some of the same opportunities and upbringing that you had."

  She gasped as he stepped toward her in a menacing manner, only stopping when Danorian rose to his feet to step in front of her.

  "You know nothing of my childhood, Princess," he spat her title at her and Leyah was taken aback. I have suffered in ways that your titled ass could only imagine. I serve my country, and my people not for a bit of fun, not because I desire adventure, but because it is right. Because I am Waldakan. Because I remember the stories and tales told to Waldakan children at night about our homeland. About our great King ZwooZa. Because I love our people and would see them restored." He paused, and his eyes grew darker, his stance more dangerous. "Perhaps it would behoove you to remember that you are, in fact, the Princess of Waldakan and not the whore of the Prince of Malvidence."

  Before Danorian could stop her, Leyah leapt from her seat and charged the other man. Her hand poised to strike. Her fist connected with his square chin and she smirked as he stumbled backwards. "It would behoove you to remember that I am not merely a pretty trophy sitting upon the throne of Waldakan, growing fat and lazy eating the offerings of her people. I was born, raised, and trained to be a warrior. By the very man you admire so much," she looked over at Danorian who, to her abject disappointment had taken up a gesture of care and protection for the rude, entitled ass who thought to question her. She shook her head. "Now, all attacks and terrorist actions will cease from here on out We will do this diplomatically. We will return our people to the land that rightfully belongs to them, through my marriage to His Highness, Prince Alastair of Malvidence, and I will hear no further words, arguments, or statements to the contrary. Am I clear?" Her chest heaved as she panted with fury.

  Danorian and the other man bowed to her, though Leyah could sense that they did so mockingly and not with any true sincerity on their parts. His response of "Yes, Your Highness," and Danorian's own mocking "Yes, Princess" proved her correct. She paid them no mind, knowing that their devotion to the Crown would prevent them from taking any sort of reactionary steps against her. She waved them away, and when they left her suite, one after the other, an action that was sure to raise suspicion if they were seen, Leyah slumped down onto the armchair she'd momentarily vacated.

  She was caught in between a rock and a hard place. Her love and devotion to her people, the memory and vengeance of her parents' death, and a centuries' old slight, and her growing affections-okay, love and desire-for Alastair. She wished her mother was still around, so she could ask for her counsel. Though if Queen Mwassaa were still living, would Leyah feel such an urge, such a driving force to take revenge on the Smythe family? She didn't think so. An image of Princess Valerie arose, and while Leyah knew she couldn't share all with the beautiful, black American woman, she knew that she could share some of it. Perhaps the older woman would have some advice for her.

  Nodding to herself, Leyah rose, brushed off specks of lint that clung to her clothing and headed out the door, forgetting all about the letter she'd received from him that she'd hastily shoved into her top drawer.

  He slammed the door of the shed behind him, rage tearing through his every limb. How. Dare. She?! First “Her Majesty, Princess Aa’Leyah” had the AUDACITY to attack him physically, not once but twice, and then she talked down to him! Speaking to him as if he were stupid? As if she were right about her actions?! She was wrong! She knew she was wrong and so did Danorian. Aa’Leyah had allowed herself to be seduced to the other side. She sided with the enemy against her people.

  Against her family.

  He yanked off his t-shirt and turned to glare at the man hanging from the rafters. He had two others who still lived but were restrained and gagged and shoved into an abandoned guard post meters away. He had taken his time with the torture of the man before him, but there was such anger surging through him, he knew he would have to end the missing guard’s life, smoothing the guard’s blood into his skin before he would be able to relax.

  He smiled at the prisoner, especially as the man began weeping, pleading for his life, and telling him all about Joshua, his partner, and their three children. He sneered at the guard. He was really doing the country of Malvidence a favor, now. Not only was he ridding them of a guard who’d divulged all sorts of information about the royal family, what the king was allergic to, how the queen was terrified of riding her horse alone, the names of every ex-girlfriend of one of the princes… but he was getting rid of a guard who was weak. Who had a family he cared about and wasn’t a real man if he had a husband and sobbed about being without the man.

  He snarled, the sound vibrating his vocal chords low in his throat. Stomping over to the shelves Persephone had installed the previous week in case he wanted to torture his victims even more with poison, he stopped considering. As his eyes moved over the labels, an idea began to form.

  When it worked out he would essentially be killing two birds with one stone. He could get rid of not only King Callum, but Princess Aa’Leyah as well. One, through death, and the other through imprisonment. Making the way clear for the people of Waldakan to return to their ancestral home and to establish new leadership. It was perfect. He chuckled and turned back to the dying guard, his hand holding a small container of poison, all while his mind planned out his next deadly attack on the king of Malvidence and the beloved princess of Waldakan.

  Leyah glanced over at Valerie for the third time, her words of concern and pleas for advice dying on her lips once again. She returned her attention to Dahni and Chiamaka, who’d sent her brothers off with their respective nannies, so she could “devote time to her sisters.” Leyah had covered her mouth to prevent he
r amusement from spilling forth. She knew how serious Chiamaka could get when she was dispensing instructions for those around her. She did not like anyone to question her, nor did she like to repeat herself. And someone laughing at her was even worse. Leyah had mistakenly laughed once when Chiamaka had directed her father, Prince Algerone, to put on the movie, Boss Baby, and the look the little girl gave her silenced her instantly.

  “Everyone thinks Chikere is the scary one because he’s quiet and just stares at people, but Chiamaka is truly the terror,” Prince Algerone had explained to her, chuckling as he rose from the floor—where he’d been playing Checkers with Beaumont—and went to put in the movie. “We don’t indulge her more than any of the others, and Valerie refuses to allow me to spoil the children the way I want to. She raised them for years to be grounded, conscientious, helpful, kind, and respectful of others, even though they all knew their father was a prince. I would never demean that, not for anything in the world, but she’s the same way when it comes to Chiamaka. She has this way about her. This way of speaking and looking at you. You feel… compelled to do what she wants. She will accept a “no” from us if we can give her a good reason why. Whereas with Chikere.” Leyah had been amazed when the prince cut his eyes over to his son and frowned, before shuddering just slightly. “He’ll follow orders to the letter with no response. He watches and sees everything, judges accordingly, but does as ordered.”

  “Like the perfect soldier,” Leyah had murmured.

  Prince Algerone nodded. “Exactly. Chikere is the soldier, while Chiamaka is the war lord, the dictator dispensing the orders. They’re both terrifying in their own way.” Just when Leyah was about to stare at the prince in shock, he shook his head and smiled at her. “But I love them more than I thought it was possible. They and my wife are my world, and terrorizing, demanding children or not, I would trade any of them for anything in the world.”

  Leyah smiled at Chiamaka when the little girl looked up from brushing Dahni’s hair. When Chiamaka looked Leyah up and down as if trying to assess if she were up to something sneaky, Leyah smiled wider. Chiamaka shrugged and went back to brushing her little sister’s hair, putting bows and barrettes throughout. Leyah finished dressing Eliava, then placed the infant in her pink and purple baby carrier. She gave the tiny baby girl a rattle, made faces at her, then began to sing softly to her, making sure she sang both in Malvidencian and English, even though she was singing a Waldakan song.

  You shine as bright as the sun

  My little one

  You are perfect as a star

  Wherever you are.

  My beautiful baby

  Future little lady

  No harm will come

  Wherever they be.

  I will protect you

  Whatever you do

  I will guide you

  Be your angel too.

  I will raise you

  You will lead them too

  When I’m gone

  My love for you will live on.

  My beautiful baby

  Future little lady

  No harm will come

  Where they be.

  Leyah swallowed back the sob that clogged her throat and slid her eyes closed against the burning of unshed tears. Five years and singing her father’s song, hearing his deep, baritone voice in her mind still had the ability to reduce her into a grieving, wailing mess. When would the pain stop?

  “How long ago did you lose them?” Valerie’s voice interrupted Leyah’s thoughts and her eyes flew open. She turned to look at the older woman, her mouth opening but no words tumbling forth. Finally, she shook her head.

  “Who?” Leyah asked, playing dumb.

  Valerie tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips, giving Leyah a disbelieving look.

  “Five years ago,” she admitted softly.

  “How old were you?” Valerie asked, placing Eckha in her own carrier and rocking her gently.

  “Fourteen,” Leyah stated. She glanced over at Chiamaka and Dahni before returning her gaze to Valerie. “They were m-u-r-d-e-r-e-d,” she spelled.

  “Who was murdered, Miss Leyah?” Chiamaka asked looking at her over her shoulder.

  Valerie snorted and Leyah glanced at her. She shrugged. “My children are geniuses, what do you want me to say?”

  Leyah sighed because she could concede that Valerie was right to some degree. Her children were definitely smarter than a lot of other children, and even some adults, that Leyah had the opportunity to meet and get to know. She turned back to Chiamaka and decided to give her—and her mother—a sliver of the truth, but not the whole of it.

  “My kutíbābā and kotíbābā, or as you would call them: Kothrar and Kuthrar,” she responded.

  Chiamaka’s eyes widened. “You lost your mommy and daddy?”

  Leyah nodded.

  “Do you know who did it?” Valerie asked softly.

  Leyah turned to look at Valerie. “There was more than one… it was a group of soldiers, mercenaries, who had been ordered to do it.”

  Valerie gasped. “Who would do such a thing? And why?”

  Leyah turned to look at Chiamaka then back at Valerie. The older woman nodded in understanding.

  “Chia take your sister out into the sitting room to play, or to my bathroom. Just this once, you can play in my makeup,” Valerie told her daughter. Chiamaka’s eyes widened, then narrowed just as quickly.

  “I want to hear Miss Leyah’s story,” she pouted.

  Valerie huffed out a laugh, while shaking her head. “No. Not right now. Maybe she’ll tell you when you’re older. Now, off you go.”

  Chiamaka let out a tiny growl, which wasn’t scary to Leyah but was rather adorable, then picked up her sister, Dahni, and placing the toddler on her hip, carried her out of the room. Valerie watched them go with a frown on her face. Leyah wondered what that look was.

  “Valerie?” she called out. When Valerie turned back to her, Leyah swirled a finger in the air around Valerie’s face. “What was that expression?”

  “Which one?” Now Valerie was pretending as if she didn’t know what Leyah was talking about.

  “That one, the sadness and what was it… disappointment on your face a few minutes ago when Chiamaka and Dahni left?”

  Valerie sighed and shook her head. “I never wanted to see one of my children struggling beneath the weight of a sibling,” she admitted. “When we were growing up, my brothers and sisters and I would see a lot of kids not only helping out their single mothers, but practically raising their siblings so that their mother—or in some cases, their single father—could work and make money. These kids, most likely the oldest daughter, would be carrying around babies on their hips, buying groceries, or walking from the bus stop, or doing their homework. It was even worse when they lived in a house with both parents, and maybe their grandparents.” She looked at Leyah with sadness. “They struggled so much, and those kids had to grow up so quickly because they had to help out. Then years later, many of them would have children at young ages, not because they didn’t know about abstinence or contraceptives, but sometimes because their biological clock had been jumpstarted by circumstances, so when they were sixteen, their mind, spirit, soul, and sometimes even their minds, had matured to the point that they were thirty in thought. Thinking about marriage, and babies, and careers, when other kids were thinking about college.”

  Valerie rose from the floor, picking up Eckha in her carrier and walked over to the sofa. She sat down and placed Eckha back on the floor. She patted the cushion next to her, and Leyah followed the princess’s direction, picking up Eliava and following her over to have a seat. Once she was comfortable, she placed Eliava on the floor, in her carrier, turning her so she could see her sister—her wombmate.

  “My siblings and I grew up with both parents. Both of whom were educated, and successful in their own right. We were middle class, African-Americans. Though it wasn’t always that way. We were lower income when I was really little, but not for lo
ng. My parents had good careers and were promoted. They saved. They invested. They made great connections and that helped a lot. But my mother would always point out those kids to us. She would say: Don’t you fools ever think your father and I will allow you to do that to your children when you get older. When you decide to start a family, you make sure you have support. You make sure your family is there to lift you up. To encourage you. To be those extra pair of hands that you need, so that your children aren’t parenting each other.” Valerie sighed. “And while we lived in America, I had that. My children had that. Yes, we were without Algerone, and that sucked. But for the most part? We were okay. I could provide for my children. My brothers and my father were there to be a good example for my sons on how to be a man—whether through word, deed, or mistake—and my sisters were there, along with my mother, to show my girls what a strong, beautiful, intelligent, capable, educated black woman looks like. My kids didn’t have to raise each other, because I did that, along with the rest of my family, and my best friends. They could stay kids. And yet now, we’re here…” she gestured around the opulent nursery. “And where we should have more than enough help, freedom, comfort, etcetera, I’m finding that my children are taking care of each other. Carrying the little ones just like those kids from my neighborhood, and around my schools. Why? Because I’m so busy being a wife and a princess, I feel as though I’ve forgotten to be a mom.”

  Leyah shook her head and reached over to clasp Valerie’s hand. She racked her brain on how to explain how wrong Valerie was in her concern for her children and knew there was only one way.

  “In my country, there is a story that is told to young mothers,” she began. “It is told to young girls when they start their monthly cycle, to show them the strength, the love, and the comforting embrace of our people.” She took a deep breath as memories assailed her mind of her mother telling her the story when she began her period at the age of nine.