bedtime anyway.” “But! But . . . ,” Fredrik whined, his bottom lip pouting out of his little, round face. “How about we have breakfast together tomorrow, Lord Fredrik?” Rua suggested. “I think I should like your company. The conversation this evening has been terribly dull.” Omerin guffawed and Fredrik beamed as he looked up at his mother. “Can we, Mama?” He begged. Lady Mallen laughed, ruffling his hair. “Oh, all right.” Fredrik practically leapt with joy as he skipped back down the hallway, Mallen shutting the door behind her. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, Your
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