Nicoli: A Forbidden Romance (Dark Sovereign Book 4)
Nicoli: Chapter 13

“Li? Where are you? Li?”

“I’m here.” I toss a stone out in front of me as I lean against the tree, watching it disappear into the thick grass.

“Where is here?”

“Try to find me,” I call, breathing in deeply, the breeze carrying the subtle smell of wildflowers and earth.

Mira’s little blonde head pops out from around the tree trunk. “Found you.” Her smile is infectious. “You should really try harder if you want to play hide and seek.”

I cock a brow as she plops down beside me, the fabric of her soft yellow dress brushing along the green grass. “Who says I’m playing hide and seek?”

“Why else would you sit here behind a tree so far from the house?”

“Maybe I just want to get away from you,” I tease, pulling the white ribbon from her hair and ruffling my hand through her wild curls.

“Stop.” She tries to grab the ribbon, but I yank it away. “And I know that’s not true,” she says, scrunching up her dainty nose.

“And how do you know that?” I put an arm around her shoulders and pull her back, ensuring her feet are covered with the shade of the oak tree. The last thing she needs is to get her fair skin sunburned.

“Because you’re the only one who doesn’t complain when I’m around.”

“That’s not true.”

“Is too. Have you heard Alexius scream at me to get out of his room?”

“That’s because you walk in without knocking.”

“So?”

“So, you need to learn how to knock.”

“Ugh,” she groans.

I snicker, winding the ribbon around my finger before picking up another stone and throwing it out in front of us, watching as it lands with a soft thud.

“And Saia always tells me to keep quiet when I want to tell him a story while he’s watching basketball on TV.”

“You should never talk when a guy is watching sports.”

“I talk when you watch sports.”

“I have this superpower where I can switch my ears off when you talk.”

She slaps my elbow and smiles. “No, you don’t.”

“Sometimes I wish I did. Specifically on lazy summer afternoons when I’m enjoying the solitude of sitting under a tree, and an eight-year-old girl decides it’s a good time to bug me. And that’s another thing,” I add. “Why are you still calling me Li? And it’s Isaia, not Saia.”

“I know that. I’m just used to calling him Saia. And you, I’ll always call Li.”

“I hate it.”

She chuckles. “No, you don’t.”

“By your ninth birthday, I might.”

“I saw you with that girl the other night.”

“What girl?”

“Paula.” She rolls her eyes. “More like Awful-a.”

I snicker and unwind the ribbon from my finger, wrapping it around my thumb this time. “Yeah, so? What about Paula?”

She lifts her chin, putting her nose in the air. “I don’t like her.”

“You don’t know her.”

“I don’t want to know her.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like girls who wear short dresses. And her dress was way too short.”

I scoff. “Not the worst problem a guy can have.”

“And her laugh is terrible.” Mira rolls her r’s with a tenor of disgust.

“It’s not that bad.” I smile.

“Is that why you’re sitting here? Are you thinking of her? Do you love her?”

“No.”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“Definitely not.”

“Are you going to marry her, Li?”

“Whoa.” I lift my hands. “Slow down, grasshopper. What’s with all the questions?”

“If you marry her, you’re going to forget about me.” Her bottom lip quivers.

“What? No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will. When a man gets married, he moves away from home. And they don’t visit often because his wife never likes his family.”

I stare at her with what I’m sure is a giant question mark on my face. “Where did you hear that?”

“I watch television, Li.”

“You should watch less television, then.”

“If you get married, you’ll leave your family. You’ll leave me.”

“Why would I leave you?”

She blinks moisture from her eyes. “Because you said I’m family.”

There’s a sharp tug in my heart, and I reach over, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You are family, Mira, and you will always be family no matter what.”

“Promise?” She sniffs, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“I promise.”

She narrows her eyes and points a dainty finger at me. “You can’t break a promise. My mom always said a promise is expensiver than the biggest pot of gold.”

Expensiver. The night she snuck into my room.

“I promise,” I repeat.

“Every time you break a promise, God writes it down in His book. And if you break it—”

“I won’t break it, Mira.”

“—he has to tear out the page, and you don’t want Him to do that.”

“I won’t break my promise. I swear.”

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Jesus, this kid doesn’t let up. “I won’t leave you. Promise.”

“Okay.” She purses her lips. “I believe you.” But then she gets that pensive look on her face, her eyes narrowed, a finger on her chin as she glances up at the tree branches. “Oooor, we could just get married.”

I scoff. “What?”

She turns and looks at me, the sun catching the side of her face, one of her striking green irises shimmering in the afternoon. “If we get married, you won’t leave me.” She rolls her eyes. “Obviously. I’m your wife. Twenty-two.”

“Twenty-two what?”

“We can get married when I’m twenty-two.”

I slant a brow and can’t help but grin. “I’ll be old then. An ogre. You don’t want to marry an old man.”

“Old? You’ll be…” She starts counting on her fingers, her nose scrunched up as she fries her brain. “Thirty-one. You’ll be thirty-one. You’re right. That is old.”

“See? Told you.”

“But it’s okay.” She shrugs. “I’ll still marry you. I don’t want you to get old alone. That would suck.”

I laugh. “You’ll do me that favor, huh?”

“I would.”

“How about we focus on getting you through school first.”

“I’m serious, Li.”

“So am I. Besides, maybe I’ll be married by the time you’re twenty-two, then you don’t have to do me that favor.”

“But—”

“Or you might have found some handsome prince you’d much rather marry than an old ogre.”

“Let’s do this.” Mira catches me off guard and snatches the white ribbon from my hands, yanking my left hand closer and slowly winding it around my ring finger. “I promise that if I haven’t found my prince by my twenty-second birthday,” she ties the ribbon in a crooked bow, “I’ll be your princess.” Her smile makes the sunny afternoon pale in comparison. “And you know I always keep my promises.” She holds out her pinky. “Deal?”

I can continue this conversation by stating that I might have a wife by then, but that would just delay the inevitable, which is me saying yes. Mira has the talent to go on and on and nag until she gets you to say what she wants you to. Well, with me, anyway.

I loop my pinky finger around hers and give it a solid shake. “Deal.”

“Yay.” She giggles and leans into me, her curls tickling my chin. “I can’t wait to be a Del Rossa.”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“I think I’ll make a great Del Rossa.”

I chuckle, unable to argue that. She has the qualities a true Del Rossa needs to survive in this world. Feisty, independent, and unafraid.

My little hummingbird.

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