Chapter Eighteen

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The next day, Naomi was eager to leave Legacy. Since it was the weekend she was hoping to meet up with her father and give him an in-person account of her time at school. Skimming over the less fortunate parts, of course. However, she didn't get the chance to exit the front doors without something—or rather, someone—standing in her way.

Mrs. Tinkle.

"Where do you think you're going, missy?" the dry receptionist asked. As Naomi started to open the lobby gate, the nasty elf stopped her by slamming it closed with a wave.

"Wha...? I'm going to see my father," Naomi said. She pushed on the gate, and it refused to give.

"No, you're not. You don't have permission."

"I don't have permission to go to my own home?"

"You see this list?" Mrs. Tinkle lifted up a large sheet of paper. When she touched it, the names on the list scrolled upward, implying an extremely large number of students were on it.

"These are the students who are allowed weekend privileges. You are not on it."

"You don't have to look so satisfied when you say that," Naomi grumbled, but Mrs. Tinkle's response was a careless shrug.

"If you want to visit Daddy, he'll need to sign this permission slip," the receptionist said, handing her the appropriate form.

"If you let me leave, I can go give it to him."

"That's not how this works. He needs to come here to fill it out. Or he can do it on our wavesite and send it back in to us."

"This is ridiculous. I—"

"Don't get sassy with me, Nona." The elf squinted her beady eyes.

"It's Naomi!"

"Ladies, what is going on here?" Malcolm strolled toward them with Figgis and Sam beside him.

It was exactly what she didn't need—Malcolm laughing at her as he exited the building. This situation was turning into a nightmare.

"Mrs. Tinkle won't let me go home."

"Hmmm. We can't have that." Malcolm sided with her, surprisingly.

"Your Highness, she doesn't have the proper forms in order."

"Maybe, but she needs to leave school today." With each of his supportive claims, Naomi's shock increased. She watched as Mrs. Tinkle's frustration switched from her to Malcolm.

"I'm in charge of the comings and goings that take place here." She motioned from the gate to Legacy's front entrance. "If I let her go, it's my ass on the line."

"Yes, but what I'm trying to say, Mrs. Tinkle, is that my father has granted Naomi permission to go off the school premises. At least for this afternoon. Check the list again, please."

Against every fiber of her being, Mrs. Tinkle did as he asked. She blinked slowly upon spotting Naomi's name.

"Your father isn't her guardian." She held firm.

"No, but he is the king." Malcolm kept his tone light, but everyone present knew this was the final blow.

Accepting defeat, Mrs. Tinkle tossed the list aside and looked up at Malcolm. "All right then. But out of curiosity, Prince Charming, how many more allowances are we going to make for Little Miss Snowflake?"

"Hopefully not too many. We'll try not to step on your toes, Mrs. Tinkle. In the meantime, I'll have her back by three," Malcolm said. Taking an authoritative grip on her elbow, he guided her out of the school. When they were outside on the front steps, Naomi pulled away.

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