“You’ve been hypnotizing me,” I accused in a low growl. “That’s how you’ve kept me in line. That’s how you’ve kept yourself safe.”
A doubly panicked thought occurred then. If Zain truly held the power of hypnosis, he held the power to wash my mind clean. He had every incentive to make sure I did not remember anything he chose to reveal. For all I knew, these same truths had been revealed to me before and Zain had simply erased the memories.
“Are you daft?” he nearly shouted, quite insolently, I thought. “If I were permitted to use my power to persuade you, don’t you think that I would make things easier on myself? Or perhaps you think I enjoy petty skirmishes and hour after hour locking horns. I can assure you, Your Grace, that were I to use my powers to persuade you, matters would not be as they are.”
“Then why—“ I cut myself off.
“Why what?” He was still incensed. I had almost asked a question I was bound to regret. I couldn’t argue with his logic, which caused me to conclude that he was telling the truth, which left me to my own alarming thoughts about brain fog and tight pants that I could not blame on sorcery. The short-lived theory was one I had been eager to espouse. It was a handy excuse for why I allowed him to speak to me the way he did and for how I chose to react. The truth was inescapable now: the way we were together was simple and unique to us.
“What do you mean, permitted?” I grilled, defaulting to misdirection. I was surely not planning to tell him all of that.
He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Have you even read the manual? Section 6, Article 3, Page 20. Should any person possessing powers of control, persuasion or influence be discovered, the use of said powers must be disclosed immediately upon discovery and be used at the sole discretion of the Queen. Furthermore, the possessor of said power is strictly prohibited from using the corresponding power to influence any royal, particularly those who hold the highest power and who sit on—or stand in succession to—the throne.“
I blinked. “So even if you wanted to, you couldn’t use it on me?”
“People with powers like mine aren’t supposed to use them on anyone. Once we register them, we are sworn to secrecy. Centuries ago, those with powers like mine were sequestered and locked up—sometimes even killed. The ability to influence other peoples’ powers are considered to be the most dangerous in the kingdom.”
“Yet you just used your power without fear of retribution. Is it because you mean to make me forget what’s gone on? Clean up my mind until no one is the wiser?”
I expected another eye roll at the accusation. Something inside me smarted when he simply looked sad. I supposed he didn’t deserve this sort of interrogation over a power he hadn’t asked for. Now, he simply looked tired when he answered. “I already told you how the power works. I can’t change what’s in people’s minds. I can plant the seed of a decision I want them to make, and then I can give them a nudge.”
“You could suggest that I should forget it.”
He shook his head. “Won’t work. Deciding to forget something doesn’t mean you will. If I influenced you to try to forget it, you wouldn’t be able to and it would drive you mad. Making people forget things is a separate power. I’ve seen it before and it does fall under the mind control clause. But it simply isn’t a power I have.”
I thought about this for a minute. His logic still made sense. And I had to take into account what I knew about him: Zain Otxoa followed rules. It only led to one conclusion: everything I had seen him do just then had been sanctioned. His power was under the direct supervision of his Aunt Maialen.
“You are not who you say you are, in more ways than one,” I mused aloud and studied his face. “The only role that makes sense for you is as an adjudicator. Yet, you masquerade as the Head of Internal Affairs, a job you dislike. But the more pressing question is…given all your competing duties, why have you so preoccupied yourself with me?”
“Perhaps you ought to ask the Queen.”
-
The Pencil Pusher
I managed to make it back to my office before breaking down, though, during my clipped walk down the marble hallway, I had broken out into a cold sweat. Too out of sorts for the propriety of using the elevator—the guards knew anyway and I was in no mood to feign politesse if I ran into anybody I knew—I ducked behind a tapestry that opened to a secret corridor at the end of the marble hall.
The spiral of the hidden staircase only added to the sense that everything was spinning. I followed it three stories down, regretting most choices I had made that day all the while. I never should have brought Prince Xabier. I shouldn’t have been hellbent on proving my point. I should have stopped it from getting so far. I never should have placed myself in a position to betray the confidence of the Queen. She was a fair ruler, but an order was an order. No matter how horrifically I was imploding, she would have to be my first call.
Right after I vomit.
I was relieved to arrive back to my own floor. The staircase was making me dizzy and I needed no more to add to these feelings of malaise. Actual illness could be cured with medicines but nothing could soothe my worry. I slipped into my office through the secret door. Striding as quickly as my legs would carry me to my desk, I picked up the line and dialed the number. I wanted The Queen to hear the news from me first.
“Your Majesty.”
The operators put me through when I used our code phrase for this circumstance: saying I was calling with a resolution over an earlier incident was code for an information breach.
“Mr. Otxoa. I am alone and the line that I am using is secure.”
“I was forced to use my powers to de-escalate an incident with potential for Level 5 destruction. The Duke of Brix was present and witnessed my pursuit. He confronted me with his suspicions of my involvement and guessed correctly.”
“Did you confirm or deny his suspicions?”
“I confirmed my involvement, Majesty and I shared with him the nature of my power. But I admitted that I was not at liberty to share broader context or other elements of the truth.”
“What was his temperament as he discovered your true nature?”
“I believe the Duke was angered.”
“He does not do well with betrayal…or surprises of any sort,” the Queen murmured under her breath.
“Tell me….how did he surmise what you were doing? Was your persuasion so obvious?”
“I did not believe so at the time, my Queen. No other bystander appeared to find the change in behavior of the perpetrator to be odd. Regardless, the incident is clearly a result of my sloppiness. I apologize. I recognize how this compromises your intentions and I see clearly how I have failed to perform my duty. I am at your service to do whatever you see fit.”
“You’re calling from your office at The Ministry.”
“Yes, Madam.”
“And the Duke of Brix? He is there?”
“As of a few minutes ago, yes.”
“Ensure that the Duke does not leave the building and await my arrival. Your instructions are to stay.”
After hanging up the phone with Her Majesty, I stared ruefully at my tumblerful of wine, which I had been eyeing jealously since the moment I walked in. I could not take drink if I were about to meet with the Queen. It might have all been just as well given how out of sorts I still was. The sick feeling I had wouldn’t likely be helped by imbibing too much.
But his eyes.
Thoughts of the sapphire blue of his irises cut through my thoughts. They always sparkled like jewels. Only, back there, they had dulled with something that looked like hurt. And it had come at the strangest of moments. It was one thing for his eyes to blaze with anger fire at not being told. When he’d asked whether I’d ever hypnotized him…he had looked upset.
And then there was the other thought—a thought that should have had me rejoicing—evidence that the Queen’s hunch about the Prince’s powers was correct. I had felt it down to the marrow of my bones—the Prince had used his tr
ue powers to stop the streetlight from shattering over my head. The question that haunted me was, why?
Why had his instinct to intervene failed to kick in for the entire day beforehand, when I had done everything in my power to ensure that it did? Had the instinct that I had done everything to evoke revealed itself only when there was heightened danger? Was that how it worked? Or did it operate on some sort of odd delay?
Now that he had used said power, was it fully unleashed? Was he aware of what he had done? Or would the further use of his power involve drawing out still? And a niggling feeling—a haunting feeling that I couldn’t justify with rhyme or reason…was it a coincidence that the exact moment when he had chosen to utilize his power involved saving me?
-
Xabier
“The first thing that must be said,” the Queen began, “is that Mr. Otxoa has done a great service to his country. And that much of the trouble he’s given you has been at my behest. He has taught you the work of the ministry, eased you into an understanding of the true dangers that face us; he has groomed you to be able to face what is to come. Most importantly, he has monitored you, and been an assessor of your readiness, just as he was charged—by me—to do.”
I looked between he and my aunt, disbelieving. “Groomed me…” I repeated. “Assessed me…assessed me for what?”
“To come into your true power, my child. Could you have truly thought that a royal of your superior lineage would be destined to make wine?”
She said it with such humor, and the day had already been so jarring that I could not stop the faint tremble and the pout of my bottom lip when I answered. “Wine is the nectar of the gods.”
“Indeed it is,” she conceded a bit more kindly, reaching out to pat my hand. “And you’ve done well with your Ichor.”
This, she said with an eyebrow raise and a hint of accusation. She had known all along.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I meant only to honor South Abarra by producing award-winning wine. It was admittedly vain, but I could not bear another year losing the prize to the north.”
“Which is exactly why I allowed it to continue. But it is the last deception from you that I will accept. We are in quite serious territory now.” Her voice took on a different tone. “And it has come time for you to know the truth.”
“What of my true power, aunt?” My heartbeat thundered and I felt ready to spin into a panic. “If I am not the Duke of Brix…who am I?”
“We bestowed you the title of the Duke of Brix—a title that you will keep—to convince you and all others that your powers are mild. Yet, nothing could be further from the truth. Your powers are so great that they had to be guarded, especially from the world but also from yourself. You are in possession of a devastating power, my child.”
“But I turn up the sugar in grapes. I ripen them to make better wine,” I practically simpered.
“That’s only half-right,” Zain finally cut in. “The first half, to be specific. Your powers extend much farther than turning up the sugar. You can turn up all manner of things.”
The Queen nodded in confirmation, looking positively conspiratorial. “And far more importantly than turning things up is your ability to turn things down.”
I zoned out of my own mind for I didn’t know how long. I thought about this—hard. It was difficult to confirm the veracity of a power I didn’t think I had ever used. But why would I? Most things didn’t need turning up or turning down, and the things that did had knobs and remote controls.
“I’m sorry…” I shook my head. “But, apart from making wine and giving your dinner a bit more salt, how is this remotely useful? Let alone devastating?” I could barely spit out the word.
“Just look around you. I see at least five things you could turn up to make devastating, right here in this room. The fire, for one.” Zain jutted his chin. “Decide to turn that up and you’ll burn down the whole building.” Next, he jutted his chin to the thermostat. “Turn that down and you’ll freeze us out.” He strode to the drink trolley and picked up one of the two glass soda siphons on the bar set. “Turn up the quinine in this tonic water and you’ve got poison.”
“The powers that sound the most vague are always the most dangerous,” Queen Maialen cut in. “Part of the work of the Ministry is to conceal the true nature of powers that could be misused.”
“My Queen…I see that you have confidence in me, but I am doubtful of my ability.” I waved my hand toward the fire, and the drink cart and the dial on the wall. “I don’t know how to do any of those things. When I’m around everyday objects, I don’t get the feeling that I do whenever I’m in a vineyard. The grapes call when I walk among the vines.”
“Just as your true power was concealed from you, your connection to your power has been muted by design. It wouldn’t do for you to have an awareness of those powers before you were ready.”
I stewed over this for another long minute with too many questions to ask. I chose but one. “Why now?”
Queen Maialen’s voice was calm and even as she explained. “Because we don’t have time to wait for your second coming of age.”
But with each new answer only came more questions. I hated everything about this feeling. I couldn’t think of a time when I had felt so naïve. And not merely naive—betrayed. Had my parents known anything about this? If Zain Otxoa knew, who else did?
“I had my first coming of age when I was twelve. I wasn’t aware there was a second.”
“We don’t publicize it,” Zain said in a voice that wasn’t entirely unkind. His eyes were soft with something akin to pity. It made me pity myself. It didn’t seem beyond the realm of possibility that I might cry.
“Most devos have a a second coming,” Zain continued helpfully. “Devo is our shorthand for those with devastating skill. Our best guess is that nature herself knows better than to unleash capabilities before a man is ready.”
“Yet I am not ready.” My gaze shifted from Zain back to Queen Maialen.
“Then we must ready you for your true duty, my child. Our nation cannot wait.”
With that, the Queen rose, and I as well, though I felt wobbly on my feet. As I followed her toward the door, I remained at a loss for words. I had raised every concern—voiced every doubt—made every true and persuasive point in the name of making it clear that I couldn’t do whatever it was that was being asked. I still didn’t know what this-all was for or what she expected me to do after she finally left.
“I know you have questions,” she said finally as she stopped just inside the door. “Know that, by placing you in Mr. Otxoa’s care, I have entrusted you with the very best. He has worked with the most powerful royals with devastating powers throughout the land. His talent for drawing out powers is legendary among those who are in the know. Unbeknownst to you, all this time, you’ve kept company with a celebrity.”
My eyes flew to Zain, who—unnervingly—seemed only to study me for a reaction. My aunt patted me on the arm, bringing my attention back to her, before she proclaimed. “Tomorrow, Mr. Otxoa will help you begin your training.”
An hour and three-quarters of a bottle of Claret later, I stood in my darkened living room, looking over the wretched, lit-up city and feeling sorry for myself. I wished my father here to answer for some of this, but had he ever really been? I wished my mother here to guide me, as she would have when she were alive, only, she hadn’t, which added to my bitterness. It was the first time I had ever not enjoyed a bottle of my delicious wine.
Is all of that over now?
It seemed that all my logical arguments for abandoning my post were moot and that I wouldn’t achieve said goal at all. The very truth of things had thoroughly dashed my hopes. Worse, I had actively schemed for a different outcome. What I would now tell Fesik and Prince Oleander was beyond me. Just one day earlier, I had lamented the lack of eventfulness in my boring life. What a difference a day made. Jarring? Yes. But is that feeling something that I would trade?
A chime that I
barely recognized broke me out of my thoughts. It wasn’t common for my guards to summon me at this hour. On the strangest day of my life, I would not be surprised had there been more havoc. After all, I’d watched a middle-aged man sit in a tree and unwittingly stopped him from breaking glass.
“Mr. Otxoa is here to see you, Your Grace. Shall we let him up?”
“Yes,” I said simply, then cut off the line. I briefly considered dressing but I was in too odd of a state of mind. It wasn’t as if I had anything to hide. The man knew everything there was to know about me. He knew more about me than I even knew about myself.
In socked feet, pajama pants and a white undershirt tank, I padded toward the door. The private elevator to the penthouse took no time to arrive.
I should not have been surprised to find the version of Zain Otxoa standing in front of me to be quite transformed. For the first time ever, he wore something other than a button-down shirt and tailored slacks. For the very first time, no pencil was tucked behind his ear. He looked real and different and beautiful, even in his exhaustion. He smelled like he always did. And, for reasons that I couldn’t fathom, he looked sad.
“What’s happened now?” I asked a bit snidely. “More news of not being who I thought I was? Let me guess—my true family is pack of wolves.”
I regretted it the moment the words flew forth from my lips. It only made him look sadder.
“Nevermind,” he said. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Zain.” I called, stepping out of my doorjamb and bringing my hand to his shoulder to stop him from stepping away.
He looked back in alarm, first at my hand on his shoulder and then back at my face.
“Please. Don’t go. I’m being an ass and taking it out on you. When, the truth is, you were only following orders.”
The Prince and the Pencil Pusher: A M/M Superhero Romance (Royal Powers Book 7) Page 7