Prolouge
"You're a meaner. I don't like you." Enna said, wrinkling her nose.
"Well I don't like you either, snot nose."
"My nose is not running!"
"Well, you have cooties!"
"No! You have cooties!"
"You have cooties!"
"YOU HAVE COOTIES!"
"NO YOU HAVE COOTIES!"
"NOBODY HAS COOTIES!" The queen yelled from the sidelines. The little girl pouted but stayed quiet.
"One day you're gonna have to roll around in my cooties." He whispered in her ear.
"You're disgusting, Paul. I wouldn't go near you with a stick."
"You'll have no choice. And when I get you all to myself---"
She drew back her fist and punched him in the nose as hard as she could.
Blood spilled down his shirt, and she turned around and threw up in the bushes. He was wailing. Enna's father scooped her up and carried the little princess to the house. Mother was screeching like Oliver, the neighborhood stray, when he got into a fight. She slammed the door and started yelling at the little girl. She was in hysterics.
"Juliet Enna Garcia! What on Earth were you thinking! Punching the king's son......"
Enna could hear her older sisters puttering from upstairs and looked down. They were probably glad she screwed up. Now they could marry his Royal Pain In The Behind.
"The king's probably going to punish us severely! Or even--"
"We'll take her." The king walked in, with bootiewipe himself trailing after, holding a bloodstained towel to his nose. The queen's jaw dropped. Enna dropped her head and stared and the designs in the floor. A callused hand lifted up her small chin, turning her head from side to side. She automatically pulled away and snuck a peek at her mum. Cassandra had her blank face on, but Enna could tell that she was ready to strangle her.
The king knelt down so that his face was level with Enna's. "I like you. That was really quite a punch." He whispered. She bit her lip to keep herself from grinning. He straightened up.
"How old is she?"
"She's five, going on six in November, but she's mature for her age. Are you sure your highness, I mean, we have all of her other--"
"If I wanted the other sisters, I would say so, to be frank. Now I'm saying that I want that firecracker for my son. She's five and a half right? This means she will be of age when she's, say, sixteen?"
"Well, usually, people get married at eighteen-" My father started.
"Do you want this alliance to work or not, Philip!?!" Mother cut in. She turned to the king and his snot nosed son.
"Sixteen will be fine. He'll be, what, eighteen by that time, your highness?"
"That's correct."
"Okay then, we'll see you in ten years."
He looked into Enna's face.
"I'll see you later, sweetheart. I'm sure you'll be very beautiful by then, even though you probably won't remember this."
He briskly walked away, leaving the prince, who bravely stepped up with his chest puffed out.
"Goodbye little princess."
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