by Eve Langlais
“Then I guess he’ll be just fine.”
The girl leaned forward, her expression eager. “You killed a monster all by yourself. That means you can fight, too.”
“If I have to. Sometimes, though, if the odds are bad, I’ll run.” Not often, and she usually went back to finish the job—carting a bigger weapon. But Casey wasn’t about to tell a child she sometimes went searching for trouble.
“You don’t have a sword or a gun.” The princess eyed her, and Casey knew what she saw. Slim-fitting black pants, the material tough and impervious to most filth, making them great for travel. A jacket, form-fitting and lightly armored. The elbows especially. All of her gear was custom made to suit her.
“I prefer knives.” Casey flicked her wrist and palmed one.
“Oooh.” The girl went to reach but paused.
“Go ahead. Touch it.” Casey wasn’t a person to coddle the younger ones. At Charlotte’s age, she and Cam had escaped capture and managed to survive in the Wasteland. She held out the knife to show her. “Watch the edge. It’s so sharp you’ll never even feel it slicing.”
The little girl ran her finger along the flat part of the blade then curled her hand around the hilt and lifted it carefully. “It’s light.”
“But strong.”
“Why do you hide it in your sleeve?” The princess showed curiosity, and Casey appeased it.
“There’s a few reasons to hide them. For one, not everyone likes to see weapons, especially in places with lots of people like villages or bazaars or your city, I’ll bet. But I don’t like to go around unarmed. Danger lurks everywhere.”
“Papa won’t give me a knife.” Charlotte placed the weapon back in Casey’s hand.
“Is it because you’re a girl and he thinks you can’t learn to fight?” Casey sneered. She’d dealt with that masochism growing up. But it helped she’d had a brother who took it upon himself to bloody the faces of anyone who taunted her.
The child laughed, a ring of soft bells. “Papa is the one who teaches me, but he says I can’t have a dagger until I promise I won’t use it on Xarek.”
“Who is Xarek?”
The girl’s nose wrinkled. “A boy who likes to pull my braid. He wouldn’t pull it if he only had one hand.”
Bloodthirsty and precise. Casey gaped before grinning widely. “I do believe you and I shall get along famously.”
Charlotte pursed her lips. “Maybe. Do you like my papa?”
The question obviously had only one right answer, but Casey wasn’t sure which one it should be. Did the princess want her to like Roark? Or was a daughter ensuring her father remained unattached and devoted? “I don’t know him,” was her hedging reply.
“I hear the ladies all the time saying he is pretty. Do you think he’s pretty?” Such a serious query.
The truth? Yes, he did appear quite handsome, but not her type. For one thing, she had no interest in fucking a king. “If you’re worried about me being interested in your father, then you can stop. I am only here for a short time to ensure your well-being before I return to my people.”
“You’re not from the city.” More a statement than a query. For a child who began quiet, Charlotte now had plenty of questions.
“No.”
The girl stared at her long enough that Casey sighed. “I’m with a group that calls itself Haven. We’re currently living in an outpost at the far edge of the Marshes.”
“The one that got attacked.” Her lips turned down. “Papa was so angry.”
“What happens when your father gets angry?” she asked, still trying to get his measure.
The girl didn’t reply. Was she scared?
Casey wasn’t an expert in understanding children. “You don’t have to worry. That kind of attack won’t happen here.”
A serious gaze met hers. “It could. A monster was in my room.”
“And we beat it.”
“You beat it,” Charlotte corrected. “I ran away. What if I can’t flee?”
“Then you fight. What did I tell you about winning?”
The lips of the girl pursed. “You’re interesting.” An odd statement and yet it did please Casey.
Charlotte turned, as if she knew the door would open in that instant.
Her father swept in, a man with more presence than seemed normal. There was a darkness to him, an edge of ruthlessness, and yet his expression held nothing but tenderness as he crouched and held open his arms. “How is my stinkweed and bed-hogger this morning?”
“Papa!” The girl ran for Roark, and he lifted her, their enthusiastic morning hello hug obviously part of a ritual.
He perched her on his hip, undaunted by the fact a seven-year-old was starting to have limbs that dangled. He obviously doted.
Casey had only ever had Cam dote on her, and his idea of affection involved not farting when they shared a room. Which was appreciated. She wondered what it would have been like to grow up with a father so obviously involved with his child.
“I see you’ve met Casey,” he rumbled in that deep tone of his that went only too well with his overly masculine appearance.
“She killed a monster last night.”
“I’m more interested in knowing why you didn’t call for help. Or wake me when you got to my room.” Roark tried to look stern.
The princess shrugged. “Casey says it’s okay to run.”
“Casey did, hunh?” That piercing gaze veered her way.
“She has knives,” Charlotte confided. “Sharp ones that she hides in her sleeves. I need a knife, Papa, so I can kill monsters, too.”
The speech was adorable and the argument sound. Casey was ready to hand over a dagger, but Roark shook his head. “Oh no you don’t, Charlie. I’m not giving you a weapon until you promise.”
“Do I have to?” The princess jutted her lower lip.
The king didn’t say a word.
Charlotte sighed. “Fine. If I promise to not poke holes in Xarek, will you give me a dagger?”
Roark stared at the girl, a hint of a smile on his lips. “You’re going to pummel him instead, aren’t you?”
The child offered him a smile of pure innocence that was utterly false, but cute. Especially when the princess squeaked, “Me?”
“He’s twice your size,” Roark advised.
“Means nothing,” Casey offered. “You should see the size of my brother. He makes the ground tremble when he hits it.”
“Don’t encourage her,” grumbled Roark.
“I don’t like Xarek,” huffed the princess. “He picks on me.”
“And?”
It surprised Casey that Roark didn’t offer to handle it. Then again, if this Xarek was around Charlotte’s age, then the princess should know how to deal with it herself.
“I am going to make him apologize,” the little girl declared.
“I thought he did already,” Roark prodded.
Her pointed chin angled upward. “Again.”
Casey began to grasp that this boy might be more than just a tugger of girl’s hair. She wondered if he was attractive to a certain princess.
The king had taken them from his bedroom during this conversation upstairs to the child’s. He set her down. “Get dressed and we’ll go eat breakfast. That includes brushing your hair,” he called as the girl scampered off.
When Casey went to follow, he held up a hand. “The bathroom is sealed against intrusion.”
“The visible parts are. The plumbing allows entry.”
“You do realize how crazy that sounds.”
“I’ve met monsters that can squeeze into small places,” she said.
“Not in the daytime.”
“You said it yourself, no windows.”
He sighed and rubbed his face. “Let my daughter piss in peace.”
“You’re very fond of her.”
“Is that a rhetorical question?” he snapped. “Of course, I’m fond of her. I’d lay down my life for her. Everything I do is to keep Charlie safe.”
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“If you wanted to keep her safe, you’d abandon this castle and find somewhere quiet to live out your life.”
At the suggestion, Roark snorted. “You mean hide from the world. Put myself in a weak position for when my enemies come.”
“The whole point of living a quiet life is to not make enemies.”
“I don’t intentionally try.”
“Yet you’re doing an excellent job.” It probably wasn’t entirely his fault. Just being in the same room with him, she could feel the force of his personality oozing, filling the space around her.
“Someone has to lead. Why not me?”
“I’d say the question is, why you? What makes you fit to be a king? Did you wake up one day and decide, ‘I need a castle and people to serve me’?”
“In a sense I did wake up. And it was rude. Painful.” He lowered his voice. “It changed me, and I promised to never cower while injustice swelters and people are slaughtered. Together we are stronger.”
“If they obey your rules.”
“Any who don’t like them can leave.”
“With an arrow in their back.”
“You are so determined to find fault with me.”
She snorted. “Whereas you appear determined to have me admit you might have a good thing going on.”
“I don’t need your approval to affirm what I know. Eden is prospering. The Marshlands, despite some incidences, is now safer than ever. People are thriving. Growing.”
“So far. We’ll see. Things always look good in the beginning. Tyrants start out with the best intentions, but at some point, their true colors and motive always come out.”
“You think I am a tyrant?” He laughed, and his teeth gleamed around the deep sound. “Very astute.”
“You admit it?”
“Might as well. You’ll soon discover I am ruthless. My kingdom, my rules,” he said firmly.
“Speaking of rules, what happened to the woman who tried to abduct the princess?”
“After questioning Liandra thoroughly, she was released.”
Casey frowned. “You released the kidnapper?”
“She won’t try again.”
“How can you be sure?” she asked.
His lips flattened. “Not everyone has as thick a shield on their minds as you.”
A good thing it sheltered her thoughts, because she’d never come across someone as strong. He practically oozed power. Which might explain why hiding with his daughter would never work. Roark was the kind of man who drew the best and the worst of humanity. Loyal people working under him. A seemingly happy city. Even the castle staff appeared good humored and hard working. No wonder the Enclave and other leaders like the Emerald queen wanted to kill him.
“Are you admitting you invaded a woman’s mind and left her a blithering idiot?”
“Not an idiot. But she’s no longer the same person who tried to abduct my daughter.”
“You tortured her.”
“I handled a threat,” he corrected.
“Handling her would have involved her death. You let her go, making me wonder what makes you so sure she won’t retaliate.”
“As I’ve said before, she’s no longer a problem.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“If you want, you can meet her, but I assure you, nothing will come of it. Liandra is a new person now.”
“I’ll make my own judgment if you don’t mind. Which leads me to my next question, why would anyone want to abduct the child? Is it to use her as a hostage against you?”
“Among other things,” he muttered.
“Such as?”
“Let’s just say more than a few groups would probably like to get their hands on Charlotte. And not all of them are my enemy.”
Implying the child was already special in some way. Bold by nature, Casey had no problem asking, “Who is her mother? Where is she?”
“Dead.”
One word. No cause. No time frame. “How long ago?”
“Long enough that Charlie doesn’t remember her.”
“Other family?”
“None that can have her.”
An interesting way of putting it. Just who was the mother? “How did you find out about the bounty on your heads?”
“Other than the obvious attempts to collect?” His lips tilted, once more making him more handsome than she should be noticing. “They all said the same thing. A rumor in a tavern. A promise of reward.”
“How is it supposed to be collected?”
He shrugged. “On that point, none had an answer.”
“Other than the woman who tried to abduct Charlotte, did you capture anyone else?”
“Not many made it past the attack phase alive.”
“Those that did?”
“Were thoroughly questioned.”
She wondered if Roark was as thorough as her. Axel might have done some ugly things to protect Haven. She’d done even more to safeguard the people she cared for, acts that only her brother knew of. “I’d like to speak with them if they’re still available.”
“Do you doubt my word?”
“More like your ability. People aren’t always willing to divulge what they know and sometimes require persuasion.”
His lips ghosted into a smile. “I assure you I have no problems in that department.”
“Because you’re a mind ravager.” She tested a term she’d heard in passing.
His jaw snapped shut and tightened. “That’s a rather aggressive term.”
“But it is what you do. You don’t wait for permission. You just dive into people’s heads and dig for what you want, shredding apart their memories, looking for what you need.”
“It’s quicker than listening to lies.” He didn’t apologize.
“Justifying the use of your mind control powers?”
“I don’t need to justify a damned thing I do to keep this kingdom safe,” he hissed. “Remember that before you push me too far.”
For a second, there was a tremor against her shields, a dark terrible presence pressing on her. It caused a momentary pause, and they shared a long stare. So she let one thought leak out. Just a single image of what she was capable of.
The presence pushing on her shields paused then withdrew but not before he whispered, “If you try to kill me, better do it fast, because I will retaliate.”
Roark was wearing a smile by the time his daughter emerged wearing breeches and a thick sweater. He made her put on boots before they left, Casey trailing discreetly behind. The father held the child’s hand, his massive grip engulfing hers. Casey couldn’t help but notice the breadth of his shoulders given how much room he took up in the hallway of an honest-to-fuck castle.
Who would have ever thought she’d walk in one? Castles existed in stories and in the fabled cities a Wastelander never dared to visit. The biggest place she’d ever known was the Incubaii dome they filched. It didn’t compare. The interior of the dome was built to be functional, the buildings solid and boring. The interior as plain as the exterior.
But not the castle. Or even the whole city for that matter.
She’d been utterly amazed on the way in, and only her target kept her from giving in to curiosity and checking it out. Later, she’d explore—and maybe apologize to Titan because she could see why Haven might seem too small and dull. There was a big world out there waiting to be explored. After she’d done her duty.
She took stock of her current location. Daylight meant she could more properly examine the castle with its odd mixture of old stone and smooth composite. The walls even transitioned in spots to wood and plaster. She shouldn’t have been surprised. From the glimpses she’d managed on her way in, it appeared the entire city was a mishmash of building materials ranging from ancient crumbling relics to sleek and modern buildings she itched to explore. It put the outpost Haven called home to shame with size. She would almost even admit it daunted her, but that would be a weakness she couldn’t allow.
Some mi
ght have questioned why she followed the royal pair rather than lead, but Casey had her reasons. For one, if the princess or king were surprised, it would give her time to react. Not to mention, she wanted to see if Roark was all talk. Could the man defend himself? For that matter, what about Charlotte? Best to know sooner than later what she needed to work on.
The only thing to address their passage were the many—and she meant too many—people on the stairs, going about their business. On the main level there appeared to be a steady bustle.
“Who are all these people?” More than she was used to seeing on a regular basis, making her twitchy.
“Do you really expect me to name them?” he said, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Could you?” she riposted.
“Papa knows everyone,” Charlotte said, beaming up at him.
“Not everyone,” he replied with a pointed look at Casey.
A less mature woman would have stuck out her tongue and taunted him. Instead, she addressed the princess. “I’ll bet your papa knows the names of all the pretty ladies.”
The girl scrunched her features. “They are always smiling at him and asking if he’d like to go for a walk.”
“Perhaps they want to ensure he gets his exercise.”
“More than I need,” was his rumbled reply.
“Complaining?” Casey said pertly.
“Papa sometimes hides with me so they can’t find him,” Charlotte confided.
“Whoa, stinkweed, you’re giving away all my secrets.”
“It’s okay. Casey won’t tell.”
The confidence of the child actually pleased Casey. “Don’t worry, Your Royal Highness, I’ll keep you safe from the ravagers of virtue.”
He grimaced. “Does that go for their hopeful mothers, too?”
Casey knew enough about power to guess. “Everyone wants to be promised to a king.”
The wrong words, because Charlie took offense. “Papa will never marry anyone else.”
“Once was quite enough,” he muttered, and before Casey could wonder why, he announced, “We’re here.”
“Here where?” she asked.
“Breakfast!” squealed Charlotte, running off.