Prof's Story--Pallas 13"Prof...Profadeia, what are you staring at?"
I looked up at my father nervously, closing the curtain to my room that overlooked the yard and replying, "I'm worried."
He chuckled down at me. "And what could a twelve year old be so worried about?" I rocked on my heels, looking away. "Does it have to do with our new prince arriving?"
I nodded, knotting my shirt in my small fists.
My father sighed and grabbed my hand. He led me to the large cushioned chair in my room and sat down, encouraging me to sit on his lap. I was embarrassed as a child, knowing full well that twelve year olds usually were too big to sit on their father's laps, and yet I was small enough. But I complied, and my father began to rock the chair back and forth before he began.
"What exactly are you worried about, Profadeia?"
I blushed a bit. "What if What if I'm no good at my job?"
"Profadeia, he's only five years old, he cannot be that intimidating."
"It's not that, father! You see,