It was dark by the time they arrived.
As they got out of the car, Wendy looked up at the house and said, not without humor, “Actually, now some things about you are starting to make a horrible amount of sense.” It was an almost laughable misnomer to call it a house. It was a vast mansion of classical design.
Bee clapped her hands in excitement. “A palace!”
“Don’t be stupid,” Emily said, her tone superior. “Kings and princesses live in palaces. Our country doesn’t have loyalty.”
“Royalty,” Montreal corrected her, locking the car. “If you’re going to call someone stupid, make sure you don’t make mistakes yourself.”
Bee beamed at Montreal and grabbed his hand. “I like you, Mr. Montreal!”
Montreal stared down at the tiny girl with a vaguely puzzled expression on his face, before looking at Wendy.
Suppressing a smile, Wendy said, “Leave Mr. Montreal alone, Bee. Come on, take my hand.”