Storm Called

by Susan Copperfield

  While I could afford a closer but more expensive place, I’d stay in the same building with the same old expenses with the same old way of life.

  If everything did come crashing down, I’d be ready.

  “And you said you have her papers?”

  “They’re her real papers. I checked.” I’d been curious enough to check on her registration, and my copies matched the public records, which listed me as her current owner. “And I’ve had her for a while without a single bill. They’ve kept their word.”

  “I’ll be damned,” my father muttered. “What are you going to do?”

  “What I’ve always done. I’ll work hard and save every penny I can.” I checked the steaks, which were ready to be cooked. “How’d you both manage to get the good jobs?”

  My parents glanced at each other, and as one, they shrugged.

  “You rehearsed that, didn’t you?”

  My mother huffed and turned her head so she wouldn’t have to look me in the eyes. “Dumb luck.”

  “And you said I looked suspicious. You’re the one who looks suspicious. Why do you look like you stole a cookie off the sheet before I said they were cooled?”

  “No reason.”

  While I loved her dearly, my mother was a terrible liar. “Sure, Mom. Whatever you say. Dad?”

  “She overheard a rumor from some co-workers about the opening. They didn’t know she’d heard about it, and she applied while they were busy gossiping about what they’d do if they got the position.”

  Sometimes, I questioned everything about my caste. “How many were competing for the same job?”

  “There were five openings,” my mother explained. “There were four of them, and they really did believe they’d get the jobs.”

  “Were any of them hired?”

  “No. Your father applied, too—they forwarded his resume to someone else,” she replied.

  I wondered what sort of job had both my parents itching to get it, and it worried me. For us, when something sounded too good to be true, it was. “That’s unusual.”

  My mother shrugged. “We thought so, too, but it has worked out so far. It’s been two weeks for him, three for me. It’s been going well. We’re not quite at cap, but if we last a year, we’ll reach cap. If we stay long enough, the mandated raises and bonuses after five years will push us over cap. Way I figure it, they want to get loyal staff, as them elites don’t want new people messing with their personal things all the time, so they don’t care if they spend a little extra on us.”

  Considering how helpless the elites at Sundale Reserves Industries tended to be, I understood. The elites needed all the help they could get.

  Chapter Nine

  Princess Jessica, once again dressed like an escapee from the rodeo, waited in my apartment for me, but rather than read a book, she’d invaded my kitchen with a box of cake mix, waging a curse-filled war against her dessert foe.

  As far as I could tell, the cake was winning. Either she hadn’t noticed me come in or ignored my presence, but she approached the mixing portion of the preparation with the sort of vigor I expected from a headstrong Texan on the wrong side of a fight.

  Laughing wouldn’t win me any favors, but the sound escaped before I could stop it.

  “You, sir, are a sorcerer,” the princess announced, thumping the empty box on the counter. “You do this without a box! You do this without instructions! Sor-cer-er. That’s what you are. I swear, I’m going to get your cooking sorcery registered, then you’re coming home with me, and I’m keeping you. Got a problem with that?”

  I tried to put myself in her shoes and made a few guesses, and all of them involved the kind of food I used to convince the elites at my work they should just go home for the night. “Tired of the bland food your chefs call gourmet?”

  “Are you sure you don’t read minds?”

  “I cook the things that my school recommends for my employers when I want them to go home and leave me alone so I can clean in peace.”

  “That’s clever. This is how you made that cake we had at the restaurant, right? Dad said he had asked for things to be made like in the lower castes because I was curious about the store I’d gone to. Then you made that death cake.”

  My brows rose. “Death cake?”

  “Delicious death by sugar. I’ve never had so much sugar on my plate in my life. I thought my mother was going to choke to death inhaling it. Dad treats sugar like it’s poison.”

  “In large doses, it basically is.” I laughed and shook my head. “It’s okay to have some cake now and then, though.”

  “Good, because I’d wage a fierce and bloody war if you try to become between me and this cake.” The princess glowered at my mixing bowl and resumed her torture of the batter. “I’m doing this wrong.”

  She was, but I’d eat the culinary disaster waiting for me when she finished baking the abused batter. “Did you heat the oven already?”

  “That I did do. But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with the batter. I don’t even know how long I’ve been mixing it.”

  Greasing pans likely hadn’t been part of her education. “I’m just going to warn you now that the cake isn’t going to be what you’re hoping for, but it’s a good chance to learn.” Joining her in the kitchen, I showed her how to grease the pan and let her do the work. “Fortunately, cakes from boxes are fairly tolerant of people making mistakes with them, so it should be edible.”

  “I’ll eat even bad cake.” She pointed at my refrigerator. “I bought three types of icing because I didn’t know which one to pick.”

  “There’s no reason we can’t use them all. If we’re going to torture cake from a box, we may as well enjoy some variety.” I checked the fridge to discover she’d gotten three large tubs of premade icing. “Just for the record, if we try to eat all that icing, we really might die.”

  “I had no idea how much I needed!”

  Grinning at her exasperated tone, I watched her work, commented only when she asked for help, and refused to show her anything other than appreciation for her effort. Even if it took me a gallon of milk to wash it down, I’d make it through her first baking adventure without faltering.

  Once in the oven, she retreated to the couch and flopped onto it. “My parents are in Houston today, my RPS agents were distracted by something going on in the hotel down the street, as I had an event at more stables than I want to count here today, and I didn’t want to be bothered with going back to the bloody castle they’re insisting on calling a palace now because they’re moving ahead with the dissolution of the United States.”

  Everyone knew the dissolution was coming; most states, including Texas, already referred to themselves as self-ruling monarchies. Some states existed in name only, absorbed by the ruling families of stronger, neighboring states. Montana and New York would emerge with the most land. California and New York would, for a while, hold the top prizes as the most populous kingdoms on the continent. Unlike New York, California minded its own business, which made it appealing to Americans seeking a peaceful kingdom.

  As it had since the United States had fragmented into civil war, Montana would hold a frightening amount of power. What would happen following the dissolution was anyone’s guess, but I thought things wouldn’t change much, especially for people like me.

  “You look thoughtful,” the princess observed. “What are you thinking?”

  “That not much will change when the states become official kingdoms.”

  “It’s not going to work out how you think. The vote’s already happened. The United States will become the Royal States, a loose coalition of the former states. Canada is currently classified as an honorary member who will abide by the rules, limited though they may be. Montana was voted in as the mediator.”

  “Voted in?”

  “It was the only damned thing the kingdoms agreed on; we need a mediator. Montana will exist as this mediator, and it will be a neutral party in all politics. They’re drafting Montana�
�s Code of Conduct right now. The Royal States will have minimal rules on what the kingdoms may or may not do, but it’ll mostly deal with immigration and basic human rights. The human rights rulings are very basic. Shamefully so. New York masterminded that travesty, and Montana was against their minimalistic proposal, but New York convinced everyone else every kingdom should have full right to rule themselves. The best Montana managed was an agreement the Royal States will adhere to international laws.”

  “What do you think the consequences of this will be?”

  “Bad. It’ll worsen the already existing caste issues. Montana wanted to increase basic rights of those in the lower castes, but it didn’t fly. That doesn’t surprise me. The other royal families don’t want any risks to their power. That happened abroad, too. Everyone’s watching us to see what we’ll do, and the best we’re getting is a peaceful transition. Every kingdom will decide how to handle their castes.” Jessica’s expression soured. “My father isn’t inclined to change our system. Why fix what isn’t broken?”

  “Your time will come.” I hoped her time would come sooner than later, but only a fool wished ill on the king.

  “Probably sooner than I like, too.” She bowed her head and sighed. “He’s pressuring me to marry someone he thinks is appropriate so he can pass on the crown. He’s tired, and the responsibilities of ruling are wearing my mother thin. For all I don’t often agree with my father, he does love my mother and wants what is best for her. He can’t let anyone see how burdened they are.”

  I scowled at the thought of the princess marrying at her father’s whim. “And you get no say?”

  “Fortunately for me, and for the poor bastard my father would try to saddle me with, I do have a say. I’ve been reading into the laws. I must sign the papers, yes, and I could be coerced into signing them, but I will simply refuse to sign any papers without it being verified by a truth seer, who will verify the contents of the documentation. I will not wed without my final say in the matter. And should he push the point, I’ll threaten to name an heir from a different family line.”

  “Will it work?”

  “I’m not against eloping without gaining the approval of the congress. They can kiss my ass. If they know what’s good for them, they’ll stop trying to partner me with old goats from established families. If I wanted a goat, I’d go to a farm.”

  “That sounds sensible.”

  “You should hear the comments about me selecting a young stud from the same families.”

  “If you want to meet a horse, I have a filly. Her name is What’s the Story, Morning Glory.”

  The princess smiled. “I’ve heard about your little filly. My father wants more of your cooking, so he was asking around. He has no idea that I’ve been sneaking here to see you and know where you live. I figured out where you worked before he did, too. I haven’t seen your filly yet, but I’m hoping I’ll be able to go to the stable she’s at and meet her. Last I heard, she was out of the sling?”

  As I’d been instructed to do, I played down Morning Glory’s recovery, which was going much better than anyone expected. “She is. We’re working on strengthening her legs right now, so it’s a lot of work on the lunge and letting her run around in the arena. We’re only using the lunge when she needs some encouragement to move around. The vets said that would be normal for the next few weeks. She’s still pretty weak.”

  “She’ll get stronger. She’s behind, but it’s obvious you care a great deal for her. From what I’ve heard, you’ve been seeing her every day. My father is gloriously confused about how someone like you can have a horse like her—and do such a wonderful job with her. I got to tell him it was his own damned fault for segregating lower caste people and wasting potential talents. We had a fight over it. For the record, I won that one. Then, because I plan on coming here whenever I possibly can, pretended I had no idea who you were but wanted to have your cooking again because your food is so good.” She rubbed her hands together. “It’s the one thing we do agree on: we love your cooking. He’s going to be so mad.”

  An angry monarch scared anyone with a single grain of sense, and I marveled the princess had no fear of her father’s wrath. “Why is he going to be mad?”

  “I’m going to propose you as an appropriate partner for me.” She glanced at me, her brows furrowing. “Before you think I’m crazy, there’s a method to my madness.”

  My brows rose. Jessica wanted to do what? “I couldn’t have possibly heard you right. You want to propose me as a partner for you? Partner as in what exactly?”

  “Husband, of course. I know all we need to rule Texas, but you know what’s broken in the system. You’re smart. You have to be smart to get into expanded education. You’re obviously father material. Look at what you’re doing for that little filly of yours. You asked absolutely nothing of me. You could have. You’re kind. We don’t need more magic in the family line. We need compassion. Intellect. Everything you are that my father isn’t. You’re a horse empath. Every Texan worth his—or her—salt will like you for that. Your filly’s recovery, your patience with her, and your ability to make people like you despite everything you’re not? You’re perfect. Best of all, if I can convince you to marry me, you’ll make yams and chicken for me all the time, right?”

  Had she lost her mind? Gone on a sugar bender before reaching my apartment? Snapped under the pressure of being the heir? “Are you sure you haven’t confused your heart and stomach?”

  She narrowed her eyes and scowled. “No. But everything everyone says about the way to a woman’s heart being through her stomach? True. Completely true. You only have yourself to blame. You gave me your sandwich, then you fed me the best food I’ve ever tasted in my life. And you gave me your apartment key so I could enjoy more of the best food I’ve ever tasted in my life. Then you turned out to be a nice guy. My father may think I’m a disaster waiting to happen to Texas, but I think I’m being the wisest woman in the entire kingdom for picking you over the spoiled rotten, egotistical princes he keeps trying to throw at me. No, thank you. I have no use for a man-child who can’t take a shit without an armed guard making sure the toilet doesn’t rise up to kill him. They jump at shadows, Pat. Me? I’ll use my talent to protect myself, if you please.”

  While I’d rather she be as protected as possible, I recognized when saying so wouldn’t benefit me. “Considering your general inclination to electrocute your bodyguards to visit me, I think you’re perfectly capable of protecting yourself.”

  “You have that look on your face, the one that tells me you’d rather put me in a steel box and protect me from even stubbing a toe. Unlike my father, you’re smart enough to know when it’s wiser to just go along with it.”

  One of us had gone insane, and I wasn’t sure which one of us: her for even considering me as her husband, or me for even considering how I could possibly be worthy of someone like her. “I feel like this is a test.”

  “See? You’re smart. You passed, by the way. You didn’t run away when I first proposed to you. Take your time thinking about it. You’d have a lot to learn about putting up with stuffy elites and royals, which is a big decision. I do believe that, without a doubt, a man like you is what Texas needs and deserves. Texas neither needs nor deserves spoiled rotten princes with ego problems. Best of all, we get along. My parents love each other, but they fight like a pair of molting, drunken harpies. They had an arranged marriage. That’s what my father wants for me, and unless I do something about it, that’s what I’m going to get. As such, I’m choosing you. Sure, we don’t know each other, but I think we can make a relationship work without being reduced to harpy screeching all the damned time.”

  The oven beeped, saving me from having to make an immediate reply. “Ever taken a cake out of the oven before?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “No better time than the present to learn. Be aware the entire oven is hot, so while the gloves will protect you, watch your arms. You can get burned bumping against the door.�
�

  Jessica bounced to the kitchen and retrieved her cake from the oven, which had emerged looking better than I had expected when I’d realized she’d been attempting to make a cake.

  Once it was set out to cool, I drew a deep breath. “You realize I’m one step up from a null, right?”

  “It’s on the pro side of my list.”

  That she’d put some serious thought into pursuing her initial offer of marriage, a blurted proposal founded on hunger and desperation, stunned me. “You have a list?”

  “Of course. I mean, my first proposal was spontaneous. I had to evaluate the situation thoroughly, so I made a list. Several, actually. On the intellect list, we’re going to have to work on your self-esteem. I have a neutral column on that list; ignorance isn’t a con as long as you’re interested in learning, which you seem to be. You’re smart. That much is obvious from your schooling. Personality wise, you’re perfect, so don’t change anything there. If anyone tries to change you in that regard, I’ll fry their asses myself. I wouldn’t mind if you were a little more assertive and confident, but they’re minor entries on the con list at worst. That list is mostly on the pro side.” Jessica turned and pointed at my bookcase. “Take your books. You read a good variety of things, and most of the books you’ve kept have been read multiple times, but you also have newer titles you haven’t gotten through yet. I think that means you’re inquisitive but also tolerant of exposure to the same thing repeatedly. Trust me when I say that’s an important trait when it comes to politics.”

  “You’ve obviously put a lot of thought into this.”

  “I have to. I have to convince the entirety of the congress that you’re the best choice for me. That means I have to address every single one of their concerns. You’ll win them over with your horse. You’ve worked miracles with her, and they’re all horse mad. If you just keep doing as you have been, they’ll be on your side long before I spring it on them I want you to be my king.” Jessica turned her attention to the cake. “What do we do now?”