Bonds

by Susan Copperfield

  I obeyed, discovering three thin, silver bands. “What are these?”

  “Suppressors, hospital-grade. Shortly after arrival, you tried to ice the emergency room. Fortunately, you were drugged into a stupor, so you didn’t harm yourself or any equipment, although nobody appreciated the block of ice you dumped on the floor. It took three suppressors to cut off your talent enough for us to treat your hypothermia. At that stage of exertion, if you were to burn out, you would’ve stopped manifesting. We took off one of the bracelets, and the IV went haywire. We had to replace that, but you didn’t damage any of the important machines. That you manifested ice instead of water is unusual, but it’s still a common enough symptom of exertion. You lost control of your talent due to your injuries, mental strain, and overuse of your magic. Now that you’re conscious again, things will be easier to evaluate. To be safe, you’ll wear those until we’re in Maine to give your talent a chance to recover. I give your chances of losing your talent around three percent.”

  “And the odds things will stay the same?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe twenty percent. Probably lower. This is a real case of what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and you only survived because of a little luck and a lot of magic. The nature of your condition is unknown territory in terms of bonding with members of my family, however. We don’t usually have to treat critical talent exertion. It’s usually accidents.”

  “And who knows how our magics interacted?” I guessed.

  “Essentially.”

  “It’s not like you have to marry me,” I reminded her. “And I’m not that old.”

  “You’re a year younger than me, so no. You’re not that old at all. For your sake, I hope we aren’t bonded. You deserve better than that.” Melody rose, checked the machine beside the bed, and made another notation on her clipboard. “I recommend you get some rest while you can. Now that you’re awake, France will wish to indulge in their formalities, which you’ll be required to attend, and the best I can do is request they keep such things quiet and in a restful environment until it’s time for us to depart for Maine.”

  She left, and I wondered at her behavior and her tone, which led me to believe she thought she might be the worst thing to happen to me. Perhaps she might make my career go into its death throes, as I wouldn’t put an entire kingdom’s lineage at risk jumping out of helicopters, but there was still a lot I could do on the search and rescue front without knocking at death’s door.

  Even if I moved to a safer role, I had more skills than what was needed to dive. I did even better on the ground, excelling at basic survival in most conditions. I even looked forward to the winter months when I’d be shipped off to the Alps to help with stranded or injured skiers.

  Unlike her, I had options, and it wasn’t her fault she didn’t know that.

  For her sake, I hoped we weren’t bonded. I’d give her a head full of gray hairs by the time the year ended. Maybe I hadn’t had any truly close calls, but if there was trouble to be found, I dipped a toe in it. And my other doctors were right; I did downplay most injuries.

  What didn’t kill me would make me stronger or wiser, and in my line of work, both mattered.

  Chapter Four

  There was nothing quiet or restful about the castle in the heart of Paris, but I was wise enough to keep my mouth shut about it. Someone had raided my apartment and found my sole suit, which had been buried deep within my closet. By some miracle, it still fit me, but compared to the people who belonged at the palace, I was a crow among peacocks.

  Even the RPS agents wore nicer suits than mine, and if I’d been given a choice, I would’ve made a run for it. Unfortunately for me but fortunately for them, I lacked the energy to do anything other than go with the flow. A few opportunities to ditch my doctor, who was dressed like the princess she was, passed me by. I considered waving them farewell, but that, too, took too much energy.

  Talent exertion sucked.

  Nosy European royals who likely believed their fancy shindig would impress or please me also sucked.

  A nap would’ve pleased me. A comfy bed in a quiet room where nobody bothered me for a week would’ve impressed me—and tip the scales from pleased to embarrassingly grateful.

  “Everything will be fine, Jack. When you genuinely start to flag, I’ll cut the festivities short and send you to bed. We’re staying here for the night, so you won’t have too far to walk. I’m keeping an eye on you,” Melody said.

  I refused to look at her, as I’d discovered her pale blue, form-fitting dress captured my attention in all ways, made me think inappropriate thoughts about my doctor, and did a lot to convince me that a life bond with her wouldn’t be too bad.

  A stern reminder to myself that the woman was a princess, thus unavailable, didn’t do much to curb my interest in her.

  It would be a long few weeks.

  Taking a deep breath, I held it until my chest ached, and then I released it, careful to avoid sighing. It helped more than I expected. “Present company excluded, I have a severe allergy to all things royal.”

  “I carry antihistamines and an adrenaline pen in my purse at all times along with other useful medical implements,” she replied, her tone amused. “While some royals bite, the French monarchs are rather friendly people. Perhaps a little overbearing at times, but friendly. I hope you don’t value your personal space too much. They’re kissers.”

  “The French typically are.” I’d grown numb to everyone greeting me with kisses on the cheek, and I’d learned, through general exposure, to expect three kisses on the cheek, especially from women. I’d gotten used to being roughed up by co-workers when back from a rough shift.

  I hadn’t seen any of the team since I’d jumped into the ocean, and I expected a pounded back and kissed cheeks by the time they finished greeting me. My back wouldn’t appreciate their slaps, but I’d endure as always, and I’d even return their cheek kisses, although with less enthusiasm.

  At least they didn’t actually expect lip contact.

  Despite my years in Europe, I still didn’t understand the French.

  Melody guided me to an empty grand hall filled with tables decorated with white and gold table cloths, lit candles, and a peach rose motif. The roses, the only splash of color in the place, startled me. “Peach roses?”

  “They mean gratitude, and it’s customary to include them in any formal event where a monarch is thanking someone from another kingdom. In this case, it’s a joint effort from Maine and France. His and Her Royal Majesty thought you might appreciate being the first to arrive.” Melody pointed across the room. “There’s a sitting room over there where we’ll wait for more guests to arrive. That’ll give you the freedom to slip into the crowd at your leisure. And observe before diving in. We’ll be seated at the head table.”

  I could guess from its size and shape which table she meant, as there was only one rectangular table in the room, and it only had place settings on one side of the table. I appreciated I’d be able to sit with my back to the wall, preventing people from approaching me from behind.

  I gave it ten minutes before the sinking feeling tightening my chest grew into an angry, nausea-inducing beast. “How many people are coming to this thing?”

  Melody chuckled. “More than you’ll appreciate. You won’t have to suffer through us royalty alone. The rest of your team has been invited. RPS agents have taken over their shift with a few stand-ins from neighboring kingdoms so the coast wouldn’t be short-staffed for the night.”

  I frowned. “RPS agents have the right qualifications?”

  “Surprisingly, yes. We reviewed the requirements and found RPS agents had similar medical training for coastal rescue; we needed to borrow a pilot from Sweden and a diver from Spain, but our agents covered the rest with no loss of skills. If you decide your allergy to royalty is in remission, you’d qualify to apply to be an RPS agent, and you’d be escalated to a primary role early.”

  “A primary role?”

  “W
orking with royalty rather than people of interest.” Melody chuckled. “It wouldn’t work if you’re bonded to me, but having the training would give you an edge. What we weren’t clear on was your weapons expertise. Weapons use was listed as a survival skill, but we weren’t able to get any information on how proficient you are.”

  “In a survival situation, you don’t want to miss if you have limited ammunition. I’m decent,” I admitted. “I can use firearms and a bow. I can make a bow and fletch arrows, too. That’s a hobby.”

  “Define decent for me, please.”

  “I usually hit the target.”

  “And good would be never missing the target?”

  I chuckled. “Yes.”

  “Should we not be bonded, I’m sorely tempted to hire you for my RPS detail. Your medical experience is invaluable, and while survival skills aren’t typically needed, it could come in useful from time to time. Plane crashes over rough terrain happen, especially if we’re required to venture to Alaska or Russia—and even some parts of Asia.”

  China. I’d been to China a few times, and between the cities, there was a lot of unoccupied territory, although much of it had been, where possible, converted to farmland. “Nothing says fun quite like a survival situation following a plane crash.”

  “So far so good. I’ve never been in a plane crash, and I hope to keep it that way. But, statistically, we’re more likely to experience one. It’s uncommon, however. And it usually involves sabotage of some form or another. You hear about the Alaskan crash?”

  I hadn’t, and I shook my head.

  “His Royal Majesty of Alaska got caught up in some ancient tribal magic. He lost two RPS agents in the crash, but he emerged unscathed. No one has quite figured out how that magic worked, but his wife speculates his plane got too close to a buried temple, and he’d been tagged with the equivalent of a homing beacon for their power.”

  “That sounds farfetched.”

  “Just don’t say that to His Royal Majesty or his wife. They’ll give you a demonstration. Well, she’ll give you a demonstration, and considering His Royal Majesty can’t seem to keep his hands off his wife, there’s nothing quite as scary as a pregnant earthweaver with a point to prove. I’d rather be handcuffed to His Royal Majesty of Montana.”

  “Got a sample of her talent?” I guessed.

  “No, but my uncle did. He’s an asshole, and he leered at her and made a comment about leaving her husband for Maine. It didn’t go over well. My father’s still furious over that. Anyway, she buried him right up to his neck and suggested he learn to keep his womanizing mouth shut or she’d do the women of the world a favor and castrate him.”

  I grimaced. “I’ll take your word on that.”

  “Good idea. That’s not making your anxiety over royalty any better, is it?”

  “Not really. That’s all right. I had no idea Her Royal Majesty of Alaska was such an interesting person.”

  “She’s something else. Don’t get me wrong. I like her a lot. But she’s definitely not what anyone expects from a queen, and she has zero interest in following royal traditions.”

  I suspected I’d found a second royal I wouldn’t mind being in the same room with. “Good for her.”

  “Her Royal Majesty of Montana has a strong political background, but she doesn’t like acting like a queen, either.”

  Her tone implied she thought this was a good thing. “And you?”

  “I like the way the Texans do things. They bring their horses right into the meetings when they’re pissy and want something to go their way. It’s delightful. I’ve never been on a horse in my life, but I might get a horse if I ever have to go deal with our congress for any reason.”

  I’d heard about the Texan monarchs, and I wondered why that pair hadn’t taken over the world yet. “You don’t have to deal with politics?”

  “Not unless I want to. I mean, we all watch the politics, but I’m third in line for the throne right now, then it goes to my uncle unless my sisters become of age before I die. Our line of succession is a little twisted.”

  “So it goes to one of your siblings unless they’re underage?”

  “Not quite. Talent rating counts, too.” Melody led me across the room, dodging tables and chairs until we reached an obnoxiously ornate sitting room stuffed to the gills with antiques. “My uncle has a ridiculously strong talent in some regards, so the congress thought it would be wise to include him in the succession over my younger siblings, who have weaker talents.”

  I foresaw a recipe for disaster if her uncle was at all ambitious. “And what are your thoughts on this?”

  “I wouldn’t complain if he took a long walk off a short pier into shark-infested waters.”

  I eyed the seats, all of which proclaimed they were priceless antiques. “Is it actually okay to sit on these things?”

  “Surprisingly, yes. They’re reinforced with magic. Heaven forbid someone damage the antiques by sitting on them.” To demonstrate the durability of the seats, Melody sat, and she didn’t bother with acting like a lady. I winced at the thump.

  If I tried that, my sore, tired body would protest. I followed her example, albeit with more grace and care. “And we can’t just hide in here the entire night, right?”

  She grinned. “I’m afraid not. What started your allergy to royalty? It seems pretty severe—like to the point you avoid returning to the Royal States. Your record is so clean it squeaks if we rub it, so I don’t see what you’re so worried about. There are perks with rank elevation, especially on the employment front.”

  I glanced at her collection of RPS agents. “And they won’t talk about what I tell you?”

  “Keep it zipped,” Melody ordered, and she gestured to her ear.

  As one, the RPS agents sighed.

  “What is this?” I asked, mimicking her gesture.

  “I told them they were not allowed to play any recordings of our conversation. That’s what that gesture means. Now, if there’s an incident, they’ll cut the recordings around our discussion so that it isn’t betrayed. We take the non-disclosure agreements seriously. Nobody will say anything about what you tell me. The only exception to that would be if I betrayed your trust because of a crime committed. I’m a stickler for that. I disgust my uncle because I won’t bend the laws to make things easier on anyone. You can trust me, but if you’re a powder keg set to blow, I’d rather be aware so we can prepare if things get complicated.”

  I understood complicated, and while I’d rather keep my secrets my own, I owed Maine. I considered her words and made one last attempt to distract her from my heritage. “That’s interesting. Your uncle seems like quite the character.”

  “He’s a dick.”

  I had no idea what to make of a princess who called her own uncle a dick. Then again, after hearing about the incident between Alaska’s queen and the man, I wasn’t surprised Melody disliked him. “Has he been evaluated as a potential risk to the family line?”

  “Well, I certainly think he’s a risk to the family line. He wants Dad’s job, and damn it, there’s a reason my grandfather didn’t pick him as his heir!”

  “Your uncle is older than your father?”

  “Sure is. By two years. I had an older aunt, but her bond died in a car accident.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s life. It sometimes ends unexpectedly, and that’s the price of our magic. We can circumvent death once and exactly once, but our life is tied to the one we saved. Sure, we can help those who might not otherwise survive through traditional operations, but we can only truly defy death once. I don’t think we’re bonded, if that helps.”

  I raised my brows at that. “You don’t?”

  “I don’t have any of the symptoms my father described after he’d saved my mother. Honestly, I’m a little disappointed in that. You do good and important work.”

  I filed that away as something to think about later—and I wondered what other doors I might be able to nudge open with my family hi
story. If I wasn’t her bonded, and she wasn’t a serious contender for the throne, could someone like me be considered for someone like her?

  The thought of protecting her if I couldn’t do search and rescue work for a while appealed, although I’d likely quit if I had to protect someone like her uncle. I also filed that away as something to think about later.

  “Do you want to bond with someone?”

  “That’s such a hard question to answer.” Melody shrugged, and she fell quiet.

  In the banquet hall, the growing murmur of conversation promised other guests had arrived, and one of the RPS agents closed the door to muffle the sound.

  “You want to bond with someone you feel is worthwhile.”

  She nodded. “But we don’t get a choice. That’s part of the price of our magic. And not using my magic? Unacceptable.”

  If more royals were like her, I doubted I’d have as severe of an allergy to them, but the truth bothered me. My family had been targeted and killed because of greed for more power. I’d grown up constantly aware of what might happen if Florida’s royal family discovered we existed.

  I had two sisters, no aunts or uncles, and my parents jumped at shadows, especially my mother, who hadn’t realized she married into a hell of secrets. In some ways, she hated my father for not telling her the truth until after they’d wed, but she still loved him enough to stay.

  Like my father, my sisters avoided their magic, treating it like a plague destined to kill them. They tested to a safe, mediocre level, and that made them happy. They had the opportunities they wanted without fear of being hunted. I’d always wanted a little more. I’d always pushed a little harder. Once I’d started fighting to save lives, I’d tested the limits of my magic, and it sometimes scared me I hadn’t found it yet.

  Had I found the true limit of my talent, I’d be occupying a coffin, and not even Melody’s magic would be able to save me.

  “How about you?” she asked. “What has you so scared of royalty?”

  I wouldn’t be like my father, who’d hidden the truth behind a shield of lies. If Melody betrayed me, I’d find out soon enough.