by RJ Blain
I lowered my hands, looked at my bare ring finger, and sniffled. “He put the cart in front of the horse.”
“He has one mode of operation right now, Mackenzie, and that involves protecting you and your daughter.” Geoff chuckled, stretched out his arm, and examined his new stitches. “Once you’re safe with him, I’m sure he’ll come up with some fiendishly elaborate scheme to prove to the entire world you mean everything to him. He’ll probably make sure your official engagement is very public, then he’ll prance you out at the auction and beg you to marry him again then, too.”
“He’s the one who needs sedated.”
Both men laughed, and Geoff shook his head, picked up his jacket, and sighed at the bloodstained material. “I’m going to need to get changed before the flight.”
I grumbled a few curses under my breath. “You deserved it for pulling my hair.”
“You’re still mad I refused to give you a pair of scissors, aren’t you? Actually, you’re just mad, period. You’d rip Princess Ambrose’s head from her shoulders if you could right now.”
“You pulled my hair. Again. You should be doing paperwork so I can leave.” I narrowed my eyes and looked him over. “You should put a shirt on, though. You’re going to embarrass the younger men who only wish they were as fit as you.”
“I have to be as fit as a fiddle to keep up with you. Even when hospitalized, you’re finding ways to give me gray hairs.”
“She started it.”
“Yes, she did. And you did a very good job of finishing it. I’m going to leave you with Dr. Glaskow, get a clean change of clothes, and prepare for the flight. He’s RPS trained, so if anyone gives you a hard time, he’ll rearrange their internal organs for you. That said, please stay out of trouble for the twenty minutes I’ll be gone.”
“I’m making no promises.” I refused to look at him, lifted my chin, and scowled. “She really did start it.”
“I know. The stairwells have full audio and video surveillance. Remember that security guard who came in earlier? He confirmed she’d confessed to trying to kill you. She’s never going to bother you again. If she’s lucky, she’ll suffer a prison sentence and be stripped of her rank.”
“And if she’s not?”
“She’ll be leeched until her talent is voided, shunted into the null caste, and exiled from New York.” Geoff grimaced.
“Leeched?” My eyes widened. “You mean leeches can steal someone’s talent?”
“It’s not stolen. It’s burned out completely beyond recovery. It’s a messy, painful process, and it’s considered a form of cruel and unusual punishment in most kingdoms, but is legal in certain cases. She’ll likely qualify. Attacking Montana’s interests right now is political suicide. In any case, your part of this is over. The entire thing was recorded, and the RPS will file a motion to bar your participation in the trial to prevent unnecessary stress while you’re healing. You have more important things to do, including getting dressed so we can fly to Montana.” Geoff hopped to his feet, draping his bloodied shirt and jacket over his arm. “Don’t let her get into any trouble while I’m gone.”
Dr. Glaskow saluted. “I’ll recruit someone to handle the paperwork and forward it to the Texan royals to deal with. That’ll let us get her out the door ahead of schedule. The sooner we’re in the air, the happier I’ll be.”
Me, too.
It took several hours to finalize my discharge, as Dr. Glaskow insisted on a final set of tests to confirm my altercation with Princess Ambrose hadn’t done me any lasting harm. I’d emerged with a sprain, some cuts, a few bumps, and bruises, a far cry better than my opponent, who’d broken her nose, had a severe concussion, and several broken ribs.
From the hospital, it was an hour drive to the airport, where a plane emblazoned with the Texan royal seal waited. I limped up the stairs to board, hissing curses. Geoff sighed, waited for me to flop onto one of the leather seats, and dumped a blanket on my lap. “I have paperwork to fill out in the back, but if you need anything, shout out.”
“There are three worrywart royal physicians who will surely shout should I break a nail.” I made no effort to hide my frustration, shooting the three men my worst glare. “For the final time, I’m fine.”
“Good. Call your daughter.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.” Geoff pointed at the phone beside my chair. “Use that.”
I buckled in, grumbled over my quartet of nannies, and picked up the phone, dialing my daughter’s cell phone—the one her father had given her, as the call quality was far superior than her other line. She refused to get rid of her old emergency phone, and I hadn’t been up for the argument.
“Hello?” my daughter answered, her tone puzzled.
“Hello, spawnling. How is my miniature human this evening?”
“Mom! What are you doing awake? It’s past your bedtime.”
“I’m notifying you of a dastardly crime committed against your father at the hand of a quartet of men.”
“Uh oh. What’d Dad do now?”
I laughed. “He refused to leave the hospital without being sedated.” The plane rumbled to life, and I wrinkled my nose at the high-pitched whine of the jets warming up for takeoff.
“What’s that noise?”
“It’s a plane.”
“A plane? What? Is it flying over the hospital at low altitude? Most people call that a crash. I hope the plane isn’t crashing.”
My daughter came to interesting conclusions. “Why on Earth do you think the plane is crashing?”
“Dad’s asleep, I’m bored, and I don’t want to go to bed yet.”
I twisted around in my seat, glaring towards the back of the plane. “Are you in Montana, spawnling?”
“Sorry, Mom. I’m on break for the next week. Since the school’s concerned I’ve been at the hospital too much, they told us we had to vacation in Montana. They’re calling it a mental health week.”
“Is Adam with you?”
Mireya burst into tears. “No, and I hate it!”
I groaned, hung my head, and lifted my hand to pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m sorry, spawnling. It’s only a week, right?”
“But you’re in Texas, Adam’s in Texas, Dad’s tired, and it’s not fair!”
“Have you and your father had a pity party yet?”
“No, because Dad’s out like a light, and Alfred told me he needed to sleep because he’s tired. Alfred sucks at chess.”
I heard a soft, exasperated sigh on the other end of the line. “All right. Can you hand your phone to Alfred for me, please?”
“Okay. Mr. Alfred? My mom wants to talk to you.”
“I have no idea what your title is supposed to be,” the RPS agent complained instead of answering like a normal person.
I grinned. “You and me, both. Try Mackenzie. I managed to train Geoff to call me Mackenzie. If I ever get a title, you’ll even be able to use it at public functions. I’ve found that makes Geoff happy.”
“How can I help you this evening?”
“I am on a plane, and it’s Montana bound. They’re prepping for takeoff now.”
“You’re serious.”
“I also assaulted a princess with an IV stand.”
Alfred inhaled, and I waited for him to sigh. I gave him a few minutes to process my words. Finally, he asked, “Are you all right?”
“I twisted my ankle, and I have a bump on my forehead. You know those movies where the hero bashes his head into his opponent and wins? I learned a very important lesson today. Don’t do that. It hurts. I think I won, though. I broke her nose.”
“Please tell me what happened.”
I started back at the very beginning, informing him about how I’d kneed her in the groin at a charity auction, the phone call that’d led to me being shot on the trails, and her attempt to finish me off in the stairwell.
“Let me see if I understand this. You were looking for scissors so you could cut your hair, specifically so the head of y
our detail couldn’t restrain you by your hair again in the future, only to be restrained by your hair so you wouldn’t, in your words, continue to bludgeon the menace with your IV stand.”
“That’s correct.”
“I commend your creativity in acquiring a weapon for yourself for self-defense purposes.”
I sighed happily. “Finally, someone who isn’t yelling at me for bludgeoning that stupid princess.”
“I should make some sort of comment about resorting to violence, but I won’t. When will you arrive in Montana?”
“I’ve been told approximately three hours.”
“At the royal airstrip?”
“I don’t know. Hold on.” I unbuckled my belt so I could kneel on the seat. “Geoff? Alfred wants to know where we’re going.”
“Royal airstrip,” the head of my detail replied. “I already arranged transportation, but if he’s free, he’s invited to make sure you make it to the palace without incident.”
I sat back down and buckled back in. “The royal airstrip, and he says you’re invited to babysit if you’re available.”
“I’ll be there. There’s a full complement of agents in residence as your daughter is here with her father. We have a few unwanted Texans, too.”
“Which ones?” I demanded.
“The royal ones.”
Damn it. “I have a job for you, Alfred.”
“What?”
“I’m tired, I have a headache, and so help me, if there are any delays or interruptions, I’ll find a bat and use it. A direct path to William so I can go to sleep. Is that too much to ask for?”
“Of course not. I doubt he’ll wake up when you arrive, though.”
“If he does, someone didn’t sedate him properly, and I’ll be miffed.”
Alfred chuckled. “I see someone already explained the situation to you. Of course, I was told he was being sedated per the orders of the royal physicians, who were concerned he wasn’t getting enough sleep.”
“The truth is not as nice. They were inflicting various methods of torture on me so I could be cleared to leave the hospital. They didn’t want him interfering.”
“Wise. I’m certain this will change plans for tomorrow. His Majesty intended to take your daughter on a ride in the morning. I’ll call the horses back to the stables here, as I suspect he’ll want to stay close at home. There are a few trails nearby that’ll do if you’re feeling up for a ride.”
I bit my lip. “I don’t even know where my horse is.”
“He’s here. They were going to take him out on a lead line for exercise, but this is better. Can you confirm if you will be able to ride tomorrow?”
“Dr. Glaskow?” I called. The man made his appearance, grinning at me. “Can I ride horses yet?”
“I see no reason why not. Be careful, have fun, and try not to fall.”
“Apparently, I can.”
“Excellent. I’m going to return the phone to your daughter now, who seems to be rather excited for some reason.”
I braced for the inevitable squeal, which my daughter delivered in her highest pitch. “You’re really coming home?”
“Yes, spawnling. Since I don’t expect you to be able to get any sleep, ask Alfred nicely if you can come to the airport, but understand I’ll be going straight to bed on arrival.”
“You need to sleep to heal. I promise I’ll go to bed right when we get back, too.”
“Good girl. Before I get off the phone, do you know why Adam’s in Texas while his parents are in Montana?”
“He’s holding down the fort, and we’ve been told we’ll survive a whole week apart. I’m not sure I believe them, Mom. He’s so nice. I don’t want him in Texas.”
I allowed myself a grin. “Well, that’s a very good thing, then, as I have already signed papers that will cruelly force you to marry Prince Adam on your fifteenth birthday. I’ll see you soon, spawnling.”
Snickering over the mayhem I’d unleashed, I hung up the phone.
Dr. Glaskow sighed. “You’re a wicked woman, Your Majesty.”
“I’m not a queen.”
“Yet.”
Damn it. I hated he was right, but it was too late to back out, not that I wanted to. William and Mireya were worth any title, even one meant for a queen.
My daughter cried when I stepped off the plane, and it took ages for her hysterics to calm. The entire time, I knelt on the tarmac with her, waiting out the storm, one I should’ve expected but hadn’t. While she’d visited me, more often than not, I hadn’t been in any condition to talk with her.
No matter how smart or mature she was, she was still my little girl, and she relied on me as much as I relied on her.
While I wanted to carry her when her tears ebbed to limp exhaustion, Geoff carried her to the waiting SUV and buckled her in. I claimed the front passenger seat for myself, and at the disapproving glare of the driver, an older gentleman with dark eyes, I pointed at the dashboard. “This is my spot.”
Geoff laughed, sat beside my daughter, and shook his head. “Give up, Alfred. She’ll fight you over it, and if she’s not in a fight mood, she’s a runner, and I’m not up for a sprint tonight. She’s still a bit twitchy from the procedure earlier.”
“Dare I ask what the procedure was?” the head of William’s detail asked.
“I’m not going to give you the specifics here, but there is a way to bypass her nullification ability. The doctors took advantage of this to perform the required reconstruction work. They’re going to give her a week before starting physical rehab. They’ll give the diet requirements to the kitchen tomorrow.”
I huffed and buckled in. “Torture shouldn’t be legal.”
Fortunately, the palace was a short drive away. Like in Texas, the palace was a stone monstrosity normal people called a castle, and I contemplated making a run for the border so I wouldn’t have to learn to navigate such a massive place.
“You can’t run now, Mackenzie,” Geoff informed me, gathering my daughter in his arms. “His Majesty would be traumatized if he woke up and discovered he had to chase you.”
I pointed at Alfred. “You’re a jerk.” I turned my finger to my three doctors. “You three are the worst jerks.” I leveled my worst scowl at Geoff. “Jerk.” I cracked and smiled, leaning to kiss my sleeping daughter’s cheek. “And you’re the best little girl on the entire planet.”
“You need a nap,” Geoff informed me.
I did. “After Mireya’s in bed.”
Not only did the castle look huge, it was huge, and I trembled from exhaustion by the time Alfred guided us to Mireya’s room, which was a suite larger than my condo, and someone had spent a great deal of time decorating with a dizzying variety of books.
I wondered how long William had been collecting volumes for her, waiting for the day he could give them to her. Once she was settled, I followed Alfred, failing to swallow my yawns. I didn’t have far to go, as one door down, Alfred bowed, let me in, reached in to turn on a light, and bid me a good evening.
I expected opulence and got homey comfort, and elements of the sitting room reminded me of my condo, sparse in some ways but rich with evidence of our daughter’s life. Most of the pictures on the wall were of me and her, taken from various congressional sessions, beginning when she’d been a newborn. One image I hadn’t seen before was of her with my boss, fury etched in her expression, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
There were pictures of me, too, and one of the most recent ones had been taken by either Jessica or Pat, showing me hiding behind Geoff, my eyes so wide I marveled they hadn’t fallen out of my head. Accompanying it were several other shots of my haphazard introduction to Runs Amok, including when I’d first stolen his reins from Pat and my first ride.
I explored, my curiosity banishing my weariness as I got my first glimpse of William’s life in Montana. Stacks of paper on the coffee table lured me over, and the photographs littering the polished surface betrayed him.
While I remembered some of
my fall and my resulting stay in intensive care, the pictures told the truth. William held me like he expected death to take me from him, and it should have. Blood splattered over us both, and my skin had turned an almost translucent gray. Runs Amok strained against Geoff’s hold on his reins, as though the horse also understood I hung in the precarious place between life and death.
I sank down onto the couch, set the photographs aside, and sifted through the papers, discovering clue after clue about who’d shot me and why. Some of the sheets were crumpled, and I smoothed them. Two mug shots and notes identified them as the pair who’d shot me.
Delving deeper, I learned he’d pinned the attack on Princess Ambrose, although he hadn’t found the missing piece of the puzzle to make a formal accusation. Gathering up the documents, I stacked them into a pile, put the photographs at the bottom so he wouldn’t wake up and face them, and rose, resuming my investigation of my new home.
The kitchen mirrored mine, and upon closer investigation, I realized he’d been pilfering from my condo, bringing over the smaller appliances, including my coffee maker. Curiosity once again got the better of me, and I opened the cabinet beneath the sink, pushing aside the cleaners, also stolen from my condo.
He’d put my emergency wine collection in the same spot, hidden behind the paper towels. Giggling, I returned everything to its proper place.
I would enjoy teasing him about the kitchen he’d created because it was what I knew, and then I’d have him do it over again so we had a kitchen we both liked. I’d even request something absurdly expensive, like a stainless-steel refrigerator with a water dispenser so I wouldn’t have to use the sink.
Shaking my head, I left the kitchen and followed the soft rumbles of William’s snores to the bedroom, using the living room light so I wouldn’t wake him. He sprawled over the blankets, dressed in one of his suits, although he’d managed to shed his jacket before passing out. I found it, a dark shadow on the pale carpet, picked it up, and draped it over an armchair tucked in a corner near the door.