by RJ Blain
“Yes,” I replied, praying I wasn’t about to make a mistake. “I can be ready in two weeks.”
“Welcome to Smithson Financial Consulting, Miss Little. I look forward to working with you.” Douglass Smithson hung up. Had I made the right choice to leave my home?
I’d find out soon, and I had Dylan Mason to thank for my good fortune.
I told no one of my intention to move to Texas, and the stress of my subterfuge and encroaching departure tore at my nerves. The day of my move, I woke early and lost the war against my stomach, which got revenge for my prolonged anxiety. The movers came, and I watched them pack my life away in boxes and cart them out of my apartment.
By the time the Texan Royal Protection Service agents arrived, I’d turned an unpleasant shade of green, which alarmed everyone, myself included. A fierce debate broke out among the three men responsible for getting me to Texas in one piece, and my first few attempts to interject a comment went ignored. The fifth time they waved me off, I stomped my foot, sucked in a breath, and yelled, “Stomach bugs aren’t lethal, damn it!”
Having successfully captured their attention, I pointed at the oldest one, who wore the same black suit as the others but had shoved an oversized cowboy hat over his graying hair to go with his sunglasses, which he insisted on wearing indoors. “You have one job, and that’s to get me on that plane. If you have to drag me by my feet through my own vomit, you will get me on that plane. Am I understood?”
His cheek twitched. “Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s better. You get me to the plane, I’ll try not to vomit. Then, we’re all happy. Stomach bugs happen. It’s not the end of the world, and it’s no reason for me to avoid flying. The sooner we’re out of here, the better off we all are. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get airsick, too. I’ve never flown before.”
The agents sighed, their shoulders slumping.
“I’m not too eager to find out, either,” I admitted. “Please. It’s bad enough you took my phone.”
“It could be tracked, ma’am. It needs to stay here.”
I wrinkled my nose but nodded. Some battles weren’t worth fighting, and the loss of the cheapest cell money could buy was one of them. “I still don’t get why three members of the Royal Protection Service are here helping me.”
“Your firm requested assistance getting you out of New York, ma’am. In recent months, New Yorkers have been finding travel across the border difficult at best. Until a case is tried in court, the coalition between the Royal States and the monarchial democracies can’t act, which means we need to slip you over the border on a private flight. We have two other passengers associated with the Texan royal family to justify our use of the airport. As Texas has amicable relations with New York, our plane and its passengers won’t be inspected. If we’re going to leave on time, we need to go now.”
I grabbed my purse and marched towards the door. “Let’s move it then, sir.”
“Geoff Howards, ma’am. My companions are Agent Paulin and Agent Rasan.”
“Please get us out of here, Agent Howards.”
No one had ever told me how cold planes got at altitude, but the temperature dropped at a gradual rate, so my allergies didn’t flare much. My churning stomach masked my discomfort at the chill, although I closed my coat and shivered, burrowing in the leather seat while hoping no one noticed my misery for the duration of the flight.
The three Royal Protection Service agents kept an eye on me, and I fought the urge to shoo them away. Once upon a time, when the United States of America had been a singular entity divided by states rather than kingdoms, they’d served as protection for the President.
The Royal States of America didn’t have a president anymore. Instead, it had a coalition of royal families and democracies headed by an elected monarch so they’d be eligible to remain within the Royal States. Towering over them all was Montana’s secretive king, a man who could rule the world with his voice alone if he desired.
Fortunately for the rest of the world, Montana’s king preferred to hide in his kingdom and only came out when other kingdoms started trouble—or needed his help to settle a dispute. I’d heard so many rumors about the man I wasn’t sure what to believe, although I’d come to one conclusion on my own: I wanted nothing to do with him or his magic.
His talent had many names, and they all meant the same thing. Only those of his bloodline had been born with the right—and power—to rule over all living things. He wore a mask in public to protect everyone, and no one had seen him without it.
Some claimed he was so ugly any who saw his face would fall over dead from fright. Others claimed any who looked upon him would lose their soul and free will forever.
I thought the many and the few were all idiots, especially since the Montana royal family numbered among the sixteen original royal families responsible for salvaging the failing United States of America when magic had swept over the continent and triggered civil war. Had the Montana royal family possessed the powers rumored, there’d be one sovereign kingdom: Montana.
No, I believed a misunderstood man sat on Montana’s throne, although my beliefs didn’t make me eager to meet him or any other royal.
Three hours after takeoff, the plane touched down in Texas, and I was the last to unbuckle my seatbelt. I counted my blessings I’d made it through the flight without throwing up, although my stomach still wasn’t happy with me. I gathered my purse and followed after Agent Howards, who insisted on hovering nearby, as though he worried I might run off at the first opportunity.
With little in the way of savings, if I ran away, I wouldn’t last long before the local wildlife ate me. I wasn’t even sure what sort of wildlife lived in Texas.
New York was all about New York, and true to my new boss’s beliefs, New York liked to believe ignorance would keep the locals at home where they belonged. I stepped off the plane onto a staircase and took a deep breath.
A dry heat filled my lungs, chasing away the unwanted chill of the flight. With that first breath, I decided Texas suited me, and I wouldn’t miss the smothering humidity of Annapolis one bit. Even my stomach settled, as though it, too, liked the Texan heat and new prospects.
Agent Howards gestured towards a black SUV parked on the tarmac. “Welcome to Texas, Miss Little.”
“Thank you, Agent Howards.” I lifted my chin. No matter what, I’d make the kingdom my home, and I wouldn’t let anyone stop me, not even a proud Texan congress. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain, and I wouldn’t waste my one chance to make a difference.
Chapter Six
A month after my arrival in Dallas, Texas, I learned why birth control and other contraceptive methods boasted a 99.9% effectiveness rating. Denial took all of ten seconds to kick in, but my morning sickness, which should have been named all day sickness instead, took the wind out of my sails. On a good day, I tricked most people into believing I was a little tired.
Thanks to the Texas legislature, I didn’t stand a chance in hell of hiding a pregnancy; men and women alike were scheduled for quarterly exams, and women were heavily scrutinized compared to the men.
Men couldn’t bear children, and Texan family values and the corresponding legislature meant women got the lion’s share of the health care. Unhealthy women couldn’t bear healthy children, and anything that prevented families from growing in number was addressed with startling ruthlessness.
Fortunately for me, my status as a foreigner protected me and my unborn child.
Unless I became a citizen, no one could take my child from me until the age of ten. Until then, only a biological parent could claim custody from a null resident. Bracing for the worst, I took advantage of my health insurance with Smithson Financial Consulting and saw a doctor to confirm my fears.
Dr. Amelia Gerico laughed when I told her the circumstances, and instead of the scorn I expected, she waved away my embarrassment. “Miss Little, any hot-blooded American of the lower castes would jump at the chance to sleep with an elite. I w
ouldn’t have thought twice about it, and I’m married. A handsome man like the one you won? Yes, please. Now, that said, there’s a silver lining for you. Texas has plenty of programs to aid single mothers, especially in the schooling department. Maternity leave is easily acquired, and you’re eligible to claim paternity leave as necessary, as you’ll be raising your child alone. You can take your allotted days for the first two years of your child’s life without penalty or notice, although I recommend you give your employer a chance to bring in a temp as needed.”
I squirmed on the examination table, wringing my hands. “I’m not going to be able to take a lot of time off,” I confessed.
“Don’t worry about that part of the future quite yet, Miss Little. Just be aware you have options open to you. Should you not want to keep—”
“I’m keeping the baby,” I snapped.
Dr. Gerico held her hands up in surrender. “Adoption is always an option if you change your mind.”
“All right.”
“That leaves the issue of why you’re pregnant. Three birth controls, two of which you were taking, and one your partner was taking, should have guaranteed protection from pregnancy. You were already taking birth control prior to the auction?”
I nodded.
“Your situation is easily explained, I’m afraid, although I was hoping I wouldn’t have to handle such a case. A pharmaceutical firm released a placebo batch of birth control, and it’s probable you have received a set of the placebo. Do you know the brand? Were all three birth controls from the same brand?”
I grimaced. “Yes, they were the same brand. He gave me the slips for the birth controls and kept a copy for himself. It was part of the contract for the auction. The auction also has a copy of the birth controls used so none of the participants can file a complaint.”
“I’ll require the contact information for the auction administrators. Once I confirm the birth controls used, I can file your case. This is a complementary service. To protect families, the Texan government has barred victims from participating in the lawsuits. Upon the conclusion of the trials, all payments owed will be deposited in your bank account. In your case, as the father is a registered elite, I expect you will receive a substantial payout.”
I nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Gerico.”
“You just worry about yourself and your baby. Would you like me to attempt to notify the father?”
“You can do that?” I squeaked.
“Of course. I can discuss the issue with the auction administration. If they have emergency contact information on the father, I can request it. It isn’t a guarantee, but it costs me nothing to inquire.”
I sucked in a deep breath, held it, and let it out in a sigh. If I attempted to find and notify Dylan, I faced the likelihood losing my unborn child to him, as no sane elite would keep a null in the life of their elite child.
But if Dylan accepted responsibility, our child would have a bright future and escape the life of a null, achieving what I never could due to my rank.
The choice was so easy yet so difficult to make.
“Yes,” I whispered. “His name is Dylan Mason, and he worked in Annapolis, New York. All I know is that he’s a high-ranked elite. Before I had quit my job to come here, he had been my boss.”
Dr. Gerico chuckled. “Now that’s living the dream. Was he as good as he looked?”
“That and so much more.”
“How lucky for you!”
Was I lucky? I wasn’t so sure, but unwilling to pick a fight with the doctor responsible for the life and health of my unborn child, I nodded.
However unintentional, Dylan had given me what I thought I couldn’t have. All I could do was wait and pray he wouldn’t sweep in and take our child away from me.
A traitorous, unreasonable part of me hoped he would come and take me with him when he left.
Chapter Seven
I saved every last penny of the pharmaceutical settlement to safeguard my child’s education and swore to become the best mother possible while waiting to see if Dylan would show up.
The auction administrators couldn’t give my doctor any information; Dylan Mason existed in name only, and after making his payment to the null charity, most of his information had disappeared from the system. He’d also disappeared from Riverway Enterprises, as insubstantial as a fading breeze. What he left behind gave me hope he meant well.
He left proof we had used birth control, he left the amount he’d paid for a single day with me, and he left a reason why he’d chosen me over all the other women vying for his attention and money.
To him, I was real.
I waited and feared, but Dylan didn’t show up, Dr. Gerico moved to Houston, and life went on.
I’d been hired to fight for my rights as a null, but in a matter of nine months, my reason for living had changed, and I named her Mireya. My job was our life, and if I failed, I wouldn’t only fail myself, but I’d fail her, too.
In me, Smithson Financial Consulting had the perfect employee. Until I won rights for my daughter, I wouldn’t quit. Until I could get up in the morning without fear of losing my little miracle, I would wake up, go to work, and browbeat Texans until they gave me what I needed.
I refused Texan citizenship five years after my arrival, and my boss didn’t question me about my reason why. He understood.
Remaining a citizen of New York meant as long as my parents didn’t learn about Mireya, as long as Dylan didn’t show up, it would cost someone a lot of money and effort to take my daughter away from me. There were loopholes and ways someone determined could do it, especially if they made up a story and claimed to be a blood relative of Mireya, but they would need to work for it.
I wouldn’t lose her without a fight. My odds of winning were still slim—the laws were stacked against me—but as long as I didn’t become a citizen of Texas, I had options. I had a chance.
As the years tended to do, they slipped through my fingers far too fast for my liking. On Mireya’s tenth birthday, I called my boss, unable to keep from smiling.
“Are you ditching me again, Mackenzie?” my boss answered.
“My spawnling requires me for the entire day, sir, and it’d be a terrible shame if I had to open my window and defenestrate my phone. I’m only on the fifteenth floor. It might survive. Should we put it to the test?”
My boss laughed. “For the record, I anticipated you were going to play hooky today ten years ago to the day, as I have every year since you, as you enjoy saying, spawned a miniature demonic entity disguised as a baby. Enjoy your day off.”
He hung up on me, and the miniature demonic entity in question stuck her head into my bedroom. “Mom? You forgot your coffee again. If I send you to work without coffee again, Mr. Smithson’s going to scold me.”
I tucked my phone into my pocket, tugged on my leather coat, and wrapped my scarf around my neck. Pregnancy hadn’t been kind to me, and after Mireya’s birth, my allergies had gotten worse, requiring me to bundle up if I wanted to go anywhere until I had a chance to adjust to cooler temperatures. I left her waiting, keeping my expression neutral, waiting for the moment my daughter would lose her tenuous grip on her patience.
“Mom!” my daughter wailed.
“Relax, spawnling. I don’t think Mr. Smithson would know how to scold you even if he wanted to. I’m not going to work. We’re going to breakfast, and as you’re the birthday girl, you get to decide where we’re going.”
“The cafe!”
Of all the places she could’ve picked, of course she would choose the cafe on the ground floor of our condominium complex. I laughed so I wouldn’t sigh and disappoint her. “Your wish is my command. We’ll go to the cafe. Do you know what you want to do today?”
Mireya bounded into my bedroom, and her choice of attire startled a laugh out of me. Her dark hair and eyes came from her father, but every other bit of her resembled me, right down to her leather coat, her birthday present last year because she had to have one just like
mine.
Maybe she looked a lot like me, but Dylan Mason had spared her from sharing the burden of my allergies and adverse reactions to sudden exposure to the cold. I missed being able to go outside or walk inside without needing a sweater, coat, scarf, and gloves until I had a chance to adjust. On a good day, it only took a few minutes.
On a bad one, I woke up in the hospital with a tube stuffed down my throat so I wouldn’t stop breathing.
If I had to pick one thing I hated about Texans above all, it was their love of icebox offices.
Instead of my daughter’s usual enthusiastic chattering, she stared at me with wide eyes, chewing on her lower lip so hard I worried she’d make herself bleed. “Mireya?”
“You’ll get mad at me.”
Oh boy. I sighed. “When was the last time I got mad at you?”
“Yesterday.”
“And why did I get mad at you yesterday?”
“I ran out into the street without looking both ways.”
“And before that?”
“Day before yesterday.”
“And why did I yell at you the day before yesterday?”
“I ran in the house and broke a plate.”
“Are you going to run out in traffic or break more of my dishes?”
“Well, no.”
“Then I think you’re safe. I solemnly swear I won’t get mad at you for making a request on your birthday.”
“You really swear?”
“I swear.”
She stared at me, her eyes narrowed. Like her father, I could tell when she was considering her options, the wheels turning, scheming how she could turn the situation to her advantage. If I misstepped, she’d take advantage and run me in circles. I sometimes believed she was ten going on forty, and I blamed Dylan for it.
I certainly hadn’t had any inclinations to go to the library and spend hours of research to legitimately win an argument with someone, using science and fact as weapons of ego destruction.