The Prince and the Pencil Pusher: A MM Superhero Romance (Royal Powers Book 7) by Kenzie Blades

Author:Kenzie Blades [Blades, Kenzie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Luxe Press
Published: 2020-09-27T16:00:00+00:00

Free ice cream day wasn’t much better. Little Lord Gilbert had the power to make any spigot keep flowing once it had been turned on. Every few months, the lordling hatched an elaborate attack on the village creamery with his friends. It usually involved deception to trick his governess, a clandestine escape from his family estate, and a meet-up with said friends at said creamery at a designated hour. The store workers never realized what was happening until it was too late, with soft serve flowing everywhere, out of control.

“This is brilliant,” the Prince remarked with excitement in his eyes as we pulled up to the curb in front of the store, which spilled over with eager hordes of children at and around the door. The less fortunate of freeloaders ate from the smallish cones and paper cups supplied by the store. The more opportunistic children—likely the ones who were in on it or had caught word early on—ate from enormous mixing bowls brought in from home.

“The property damage will be enormous,” I baited, curious to see what threats would sway the Prince. In order for his powers to emerge, he had to want to remedy what he saw as wrong.

“I’m thinking, by now, the damage is probably done,” he observed.

Xabier inclined his chin toward two uniformed workers, one who sat with his back to the store, weeping helpless tears, the other with her arm around him, looking over her shoulder to watch the unfolding debauchery.

“This sort of thing doesn’t reflect well upon The Ministry,” I dug in, hoping he cared at least a little about that.

“How old did you say the young lord was?” The Prince’s gaze stayed out the window and he seemed to be scanning the crowd.

“Nine, if I recall correctly. He could be ten now.”

Xabier turned back toward me with a conspiratorial smile. “Can’t blame a ten-year-old kid for wanting a bit of fun.”

Without another word, the Prince exited the car, breaking our seal of relative silence. Pandemonium awaited us outside—a cacophony of excited screams, accusations of budging in line and delighted praise for the young lord. I followed the Prince, extricating myself from the car quickly and trotting after him. A swell of hope rose in my chest as the children parted to let him into the store. Was it some extension of his powers emerging or was it simple charisma? The din of excitement quieted as he walked in, causing me to wonder the same.

“Which one of you is Lord Gilbert?”

The crowd parted again, to reveal a pair of tweens sharing a banana split out of the hull of a model viking ship that looked antique and that had certainly been stolen from some display. Across from the young Lord, who I threw a look of reproach out of sheer habit—sat a young girl who looked a bit too old and a bit too pretty for him.

“Prince Xabier,” the boy murmured, beginning to stand. Xabier raised his hand in a manner meant to instruct the boy to stay seated.

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