Bonds

by Susan Copperfield

  I frowned but considered his words. On second thought, I realized he was right. She’d said and done things that led me to believe she might bow to the world around her rather than stand firm. “I’m going to have to keep an eye on that.”

  “And do what?”

  “Encourage her to kick whoever tries to drag her down right in the teeth.”

  “I’m sure there are more diplomatic ways to handle it.”

  “No, Alfred. She’s been terrorized. Maybe by her uncle, maybe by some others—the entire royal family has been. The bastards terrorizing her don’t deserve diplomacy. They deserve a kick in the teeth and a long walk off a short pier during a squall. I’m not a fan of mercy for the merciless.”

  “Neither is His Majesty, but it’s often necessary. That’s something you’ll face more than you’ll like as a royal. And worse, you’ll be expected to smile about it.”

  Great. The last thing I wanted to do was smile and act like I could forgive anyone who hurt Melody—or anyone in her family.

  Despite my fears and hesitancies, I liked them—except for her uncle, who I hadn’t even met yet. Shaking my head, I considered my options, which were few. “Maybe we should go try one of those corn dogs. I still haven’t had one yet. I keep getting sidetracked by those damned hot dogs.”

  “Hot dogs are a known American hazard. You’ve been exposed to European food for too long. We better make sure we get a hamburger into you, too. Just to be sure.” Alfred gestured back towards Gate C, which was on the other side of the airport. “The exercise will be good for you, too.”

  “Do all RPS agents have a sense of humor?”

  “According to Her Majesty, I am the most dour of men, utterly incapable of laughing. His Majesty is trying to figure out why I act utterly dour around her. I don’t think he has comprehended I do it to keep her on her toes and maintain her belief I truly dislike her.”

  “Do you dislike her?”

  “She is the best thing to happen to His Majesty, and as such, I rather adore her, but I will deny this should you ever tell a soul. She is convinced I hate her above all others, and it wouldn’t do to have the special dynamics of our relationship ruined with positivity.”

  “Can’t His Majesty tell when someone lies?”

  “Yes, he can. Which makes the game so much more enjoyable for me. I’m an old man, Jack—too damned old to be dour all the damned time like Her Majesty believes. It’s not my fault Her Majesty doesn’t understand my sense of humor. She bristles so protectively over His Majesty, and I go out of my way to ensure he sees that, as it is a highlight of each day for him.”

  I smiled, as I could easily believe that. “I take it your sense of humor is dark and slightly twisted?”

  “Precisely. But yes, I’m quite fond of Her Majesty, although we started our relationship rather poorly.”

  Having met the woman, I suspected they were both playing games. “I bet she adores you and plays the same game you do. She seems like the type.”

  Alfred smiled. “That may very well be. There is nothing simple about Her Majesty of Montana. If you give her a chance, she’ll charm and trick you, and like most others, you’ll find yourself enjoying the ride. Just don’t accept any invitations to go horseback riding with her. She’s a terrible rider, and you would spend most of your time waiting for her to scramble back onto her horse, whom she has charmed and tricked just like everyone else.”

  “So, Alfred. In your experience, what is the best thing for a man like me to do for a princess like Melody?”

  “Be yourself. If she wanted someone else, she would’ve picked another man. Over the years, I’ve learned stubborn royals learn early on what type of person makes them happy. Maybe you don’t know what makes Her Highness happy, but something about you does. Build from there. It’ll still be work, but you can go into the work knowing your foundation is exactly what she wants and needs in her life—and that’ll be something His Majesty will confirm. He has a soft spot for those who do what their heart wants and not what conventional wisdom says.”

  I stopped and stared at him, my mouth gaping open as I’d never heard that piece of advice delivered in quite the same way before. When he said it, he made everything sound so easy despite knowing making a relationship work was anything but easy. “Maybe you should be a psychologist.”

  “Part of the RPS job description,” he replied in a rueful tone. “Technically, I’m not even officially working today. I just came along for the ride because I knew we had an extra royal who needed company.” Alfred gestured to his ear. “I expected to stand around and watch, but I’ll admit, I enjoy a good hot dog as much as you do.”

  “We’re in an airport after security. Everything should be fine, right?”

  “I hope so, because I left my earpiece and gun at home.”

  “Does His Majesty know that?”

  “Sadly, yes. But he figured I’d be the best man to keep you company and welcome you to Montana. I have a son who volunteers for search and rescue, so he believes I have a better understanding of men like you more than most. Truth be told, I haven’t a clue why my son does as he does, but I am proud of him regardless. He’s a teacher.”

  “Now that’s a tough job.”

  “I just thought I should tell you that after you’re done browsing the hot dog selection, there are several excellent barbecue places in here.”

  “Ribs?”

  “Brisket, too.”

  “Can I take a hot dog for the road if we do the barbecue now?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. You can.”

  “Lead the way, Alfred.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Somewhere between the barbecue joint and the hot dog stand, all hell broke loose. Where there was smoke, there was typically fire, but I didn’t get to witness any fire if it existed. The smoke stung my eyes, choked off my breath, and made it pitifully easy for someone to clap a wet rag to my nose and mouth, which reeked of sickeningly sweet ether.

  I disliked their choice of ether; it took longer to kick in than other sedatives while coming bundled with a variety of side effects and general risks to my health. While it took longer to fully kick in, it packed a punch right out of the gate. After my first unfortunate lungful, the dizziness started. On basic principle, I struggled, but it didn’t do any good; an arm around my throat coupled with someone pinching my nose closed ensured I inhaled more of the ether, and every breath I took helped the drug do its work.

  At least two people worked together to subdue me, and one of them clamped their hand over my wrist so I couldn’t reach the suppressors and give them a taste of my talent.

  Without my magic, I lacked the strength to fight them off, and it was only a matter of time before the ether finished doing its work. My body went limp before I fully lost consciousness, but my assailants took no chances. They kept the rag pressed to my nose and mouth until I sank fully into darkness.

  I woke up, an accomplishment as far as I was concerned. Nausea, dizziness, and a skull-splitting headache waged a brutal war for dominance, and I did the only thing I could: I waited it out, controlling my breathing so I wouldn’t do something stupid, like gasp or flinch.

  Gasping or flinching would only make the pain worse.

  I waited until I could breathe without feeling like I’d lose control of my stomach. Only then did I crack open an eye.

  The welcoming, cozy interior of a log cabin surrounded me, and the owner either enjoyed hunting or liked fur. A bear skin served as a rug in front of a stone fireplace, its flames casting shadows across the floor. A deer pelt decorated a nearby chair, and a pair of stuffed foxes stood guard, staring at me with dark eyes, and the fire reflected off the glassy orbs.

  “Good evening, Mr. Alders,” a man said, and his Middle Eastern accent immediately caught my attention. I’d never been good at languages or identifying accents and dialects, but I recognized the almost silky tones of someone who spoke an Arabic language. “I apologize for the rudeness of our invitation, but we rarely
have such an excellent opportunity to solve a serious matter so efficiently.”

  Since my captor knew I was awake, I gave up any pretenses of unconsciousness, blinking and taking a closer look at the room. Most of the light came from the fireplace, and I spotted a man dressed in bright, baggy trousers accompanied with a pale sash and loose coat. I eliminated the man as Indian; his skin tone was too pale, and even I could recognize an Indian accent.

  His voice led me to believe he was either from the Middle East or the Mediterranean, but I couldn’t tell which. I rarely ventured into the Middle East, as I had little experience in desert rescues.

  The formality of his speech struck me as odd, and as I comprehended what he said, I became more aware of my surroundings. For what he called a rude invitation, he hadn’t seen fit to tie me up, a relief, all things considered. Someone had wrapped several layers of duct tape around my suppressors, which would do a good job of preventing me from accessing them without a lot of effort. I sat straighter in the chair, a rather comfortable recliner. “You have the advantage.”

  “Please, call me Ekrem. I believe we can work well together to resolve this most troubling matter we’re in.”

  “Troubling is one way to put it,” I replied. “You attacked an airport to get me—and did so successfully. That’s troubling.”

  “For a good cause. We damaged nothing, and while we had to be rough with the agent that was with you, he should survive. He fought well and with honor, and it is our regret necessity made us injure him. We took every care to ensure that his people could treat him well after we left with you. We did not know he would react so poorly to ether once we subdued him. Had he not reacted so, we would have brought him with us as a guest, but for his sake, we left him so he could receive better care.”

  Shit. Alfred. “How did he react poorly?”

  “He had breathing difficulties. We are uncertain if it was from the smoking compound we used or the ether. We had limited options for what we could get through security.”

  On most days, airport security came across as a joke to me, as I could think of many ways to get unwanted substances through the security gates. “Glass bottles disguised as conditioner or shampoo?” I guessed. “Ether would melt through plastic.”

  Ekrem smiled. “It is nice to see you are as intelligent of a royal as the rumors claim. The Royal States is in need of men with keen intellect and courage. But yes, that is how we got the substances through security, and why we were forced to use ether instead of a safer compound. All of the substances we used were disguised as travel kits. We were, of course, rather fortunate none of our accomplices were pulled aside for other checks. But unless the containers were opened and fully inspected, there is no way for security to tell they were not as labeled. It helped we had an airport employee who was able to assist us with some supplies.”

  I grunted. “I hope you are aware you’ve directly gone against His Royal Majesty of Montana on this.”

  “We were dismayed when we realized the gentleman with you is the head of his detail. It is part of why we left him in the airport so he could be treated better and immediately. He should survive.”

  The ‘should’ worried me. “What do you want with me?”

  “We are aware of the issues Maine faces with traitors in its numbers. We have been following the situation closely. The latest few attempts have concerned us to the point we felt the need to interfere. Our informant keeps us aware of what is going on. It seems Maine has been unable to secure sufficient evidence of wrongdoing. And while we appreciate the lengths Maine goes to prevent incorrect accusations for severe crimes, it runs the risk of losing its sovereignty. That is where you come in.” Ekrem crossed the room, retrieved a bottle of water, and offered it to me. “Drink this. Once you’re better recovered, we will see to the rest of your care. We have some portions of your medical file. You will find the next few days unpleasant, but you will survive them, and I think you’ll find the result pleasing.”

  That didn’t sound good. I took the water, and as the bottle appeared sealed and didn’t leak when I squeezed it, I popped off the lid and took a sip. “What result am I going to find pleasing?”

  “A fully established bond with Her Highness of Maine. I regret that it is probable she will become Her Royal Highness of Maine, but we feel she is suited for the task, and we have sufficient evidence to eliminate other successors—albeit, one successor’s lack of suitability is from great honor and integrity.”

  “You mean Prince Carl.”

  “I do. If we had a way to defeat the foe his bond faces, we would offer it. We don’t. But we have determined Princess Melody and His Royal Majesty are the few in the family who have not been bent beyond salvaging. The younger children are handling the situation well enough, but they are not of age to handle the rigors of rulership.”

  “So, your solution to this is to kidnap me?”

  “And dose you with a rather potent toxin that Her Highness will be challenged to safely remove. If untreated, it could lead to death, which is a requirement for a proper bond to take hold. With the amount of exposure you have had to her talent, we are convinced another incident will cement one if it has not formed yet. Our informant has notified us this is a situation you are not against, so while it is technically a foul thing we intend to do, it is for the greater good. The toxin we plan to use causes limited damage to other organs, but primarily damages and impairs red blood cells. As Her Highness has exceptional control over blood and an uncanny ability to work with toxins and infections in the blood, we feel she’ll be able to cope with the toxin before it can result in your death or substantial organ damage. Even with the antidote, which we will provide, the initial damage should be sufficient to solidify a bond between you.”

  My brows shot up. “You want me to be bonded with her? But why?”

  “Her intention to wed her bond is a factor, another consideration that convinced us the timing is right. There is evidence of mutual interest.”

  Well, at least my kidnapper had some form of morality, albeit twisted. “I fail to see how doing this helps to accomplish your goals.”

  “It is simple. We have the evidence needed to prove who has been behind the attacks on Maine’s royal family. We also have information for you about the oil tanker that involved you in this situation to begin with. We will deliver this information through you. Our price is ensuring Maine’s sovereignty remains intact, and that honorable individuals who were not at all involved in the ploys remain in succession for the throne. Her Highness is the best candidate.”

  “You believe Melody’s uncle is responsible. And others in her family?” I wondered if her two brothers had left the kingdom to avoid involvement—or because they were involved. I suspected the former, as they were no longer part of the succession.

  “He is the worst offender, yes. He is also the general mastermind. I have the documentation Maine requires to link several of his crimes, paid for and operated through several of his smaller companies. He masked his activities through a series of business name accounts. It would have taken significant effort to isolate the companies and discover he is the controller of all of those accounts. It would have been difficult, at best, to connect the trails. He registered several of the names overseas and had those registrations spawn additional registrations. One such kingdom is under no obligation to report the existence of the business name’s owner to inquirers.” Ekrem sat on the chair decorated with the deer pelt and relaxed, keeping a close eye on me. “I discovered his activities because he created one of his names in my home kingdom, and from there, I was able to unravel the mystery. You must have questions. Ask them.”

  I figured the best way to get to the heart of the matter was to start at the beginning as I knew it. “Did you have any part in the tanker explosion? Or those murders on board the tanker?”

  I wasn’t sure what I’d do if he had been involved, especially as the captain had been a friend of the king’s.

  “No. That was the work o
f someone seeking personal revenge against His Highness of Maine. A rebellion group with a dislike of royalty took offense to his past actions involving a snubbed marriage proposal with Turkey. I do regret that, in that way, I was involved, albeit not directly. His Royal Majesty of Maine was, many years ago, in talks to form a union with a Turkish princess. Then the accident happened that almost cost him his wife’s life, which resulted in their bond. His Royal Majesty was excused from the agreement. His Highness was likewise to wed one of Turkey’s princesses. He treated her most cruelly. While she has gone on to become a queen in her own right, our people remember. There are no ill wishes against Maine’s current monarchs; their union is honorable in our eyes. But the broken vow has created turmoil directed at His Highness. That incident is what led to the sinking of that oil tanker. It was never meant to run aground near France, however. That was, unfortunately, a tragic accident. My kingdom had no involvement with the murders of the crew. That was the work of this rebellion, who took over the ship to carry out their plans. We have captured the responsible parties, who fled the scene during the efforts to prevent the crude from spilling. Once the situation in Maine is resolved to our satisfaction, they will be handed over to France’s government, as it was their waters polluted, a disaster prevented only by your hand.”

  I gave the man credit; he knew how to spin a good tale, and his words rang of the truth despite how impossible they seemed at first. “You’re thorough.”

  Ekrem bowed his head. “Thank you, Mr. Alders. It is our wish to do this in as honorable a way as possible. When we heard of the crash, we feared the worst. But the incident made it clear we needed to act before a truly lethal attack happens. Can you tell us what happened? The cause of the crash has not yet reached us.”

  “The pilot crashed the plane.”