He dressed for bed and laid down, but it was many hours before sleep came. When he awoke in the morning, dull sunlight irritated his mood. He’d rather it be gray and rainy. Hansen helped him dress for travel, and he hurried to the garage where the auto was being loaded.
“Prince Benjamin.” Victor greeted him at the door. “We expected to pick you up with Her Highness at the portico.”
Ben pushed past Victor. “I didn’t want to be around the palace guests.”
Victor trailed him to the day limo that was being prepared.
“How long until we leave?”
“Less than an hour.”
Ben nodded. He hadn’t expected it to take so long, but he could wait it out in the garage. “Can I get some breakfast in here?”
Victor glanced toward his office. “I have some pastries, but if you’d rather have something else I can send word to the palace.”
Victor’s kindness was wearing him down. He finally gave the man a smile. “Pastries sound good. Thanks.” He strode to the office and grabbed a few from a basket then made his way to the Black Widow he’d ridden a few weeks ago the day he’d come home from Chester’s Wake. He climbed onto the seat. He could leave now, head south. He’d be there by the time Mother was ready to leave the palace.
The temptation was great, but Mother would scold him.
Ben bit into the pastry as his opposite hand beat fingers across the handle bar. The appeal of running away was strong, as it was every time he climbed onto this bike. Throwing it all away. Living free. Why shouldn’t he do exactly what he wanted, whenever he wanted? Why shouldn’t he make himself happy?
The image of the dead soldiers and the faces of their mourning wives reminded him. People needed protecting. They needed leadership.
He could offer that, and in his better moments he wanted to offer it.
Finishing off the pastry, he climbed off the bike. No sense wallowing in his self-pity. Instead he helped pile luggage into the trunk of the auto. Victor protested immediately, but Ben brushed him off.
“I can toss in a few bags.” He smiled, and Victor relented. They weren’t planning a long stay along the border. The area wasn’t deemed safe, especially for Mother and him. But Mother never travelled lightly, and they were bringing things Father had requested.
Some of the garage workers watched him from the corners of their eyes. They were nervous around him. Tense. But the regulars knew he spent all of his free time watching them rebuild long-forgotten auto engines as well as spiff up the newer models. Time passed slowly, but his departure arrived at last.
Ben rode to the front of the palace in the limo, where they parked in front of the family’s personal portico. Mother and Gregory climbed inside.
No Roanna.
Ben glanced toward the palace entry. She might be running late, or she could show up to wave them off. But she didn’t.
He clasped his hands in his lap and looked at his shoes to keep from asking Gregory about her. As they pulled away from the palace he repeated to himself, It’s better this way.
51
Ben stared out the window as the landscape changed. For most of the trip, Mother kept a lively conversation going, though it did get strange when Mother told Gregory all about the Stern family and noted Ben had become well acquainted with Merry while in Dawson’s Edge.
They finally arrived at the southern border, and Ben climbed from the auto and stretched his legs. More guards lined the premises than the last time he’d visited the military base. Large military bots rolled along the narrow roadways, and soldiers marched inside the gates.
“Why does it look as if they’re preparing for war?”
Mother shot him a disapproving look. “Save those questions for the privacy of our quarters.”
He frowned but kept quiet. One of their military generals greeted them at the auto. He escorted them inside what appeared to be the hospital. Ben’s frown deepened.
“They’re keeping Father here, on base?” He wasn’t sure why it surprised him, but he’d expected Father to be in a nearby city hospital.
“It’s well guarded,” the general stated. He kept his focus forward, his broad shoulders guiding them through the halls like a sailing ship. “And we’ve called in the best in the medical world.”
Mother was satisfied with the situation. She followed the general with her head held high and her chin firm. She’d never been one to shy away from trouble or to refrain from stepping in to take charge. As queen, it was expected and required.
Gregory stepped silently at Ben’s side. They stopped in front of a door that was guarded on either side by armed soldiers. They both bowed to Mother.
She smiled and touched the nearest guard’s shoulder. “Thank you. There is no need. Please let us in to see the king.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” The guard opened the door and stepped aside, and the general led them into Father’s room.
Gregory stood back. “I’ll wait until you’ve had your time with him.”
Ben nodded his appreciation. He went into the room, and the guard closed the door behind him.
Father was sitting up in the hospital bed. One leg was wrapped heavily and suspended in a sling. The other leg was buried under the blankets. Mother rushed forward and kissed Father’s cheek. He stared into her eyes, and Ben looked away.
He’d rarely seen an emotional scene between them. In front of others, they were always royal. Always in hiding.
Seeing Father lying in bed shook Ben’s emotions. He’d never seen Father appear weak or vulnerable, but wearing a hospital gown and wrapped in bandages, he appeared to be both.
A moment passed, and Father waved him over. “Come here, Ben.”
Ben stepped to the bedside. “It’s good to see you, Father.” Tears clogged his throat, and he tried to clear them.
Father reached up and hugged him. “Having you here helps. There is much to be done.”
“Who did this, Father?”
Ben wanted to find them. Needed to, even. The attacks had to stop.
Father glanced at the general then back to Ben. “There will be time for that later.”
“There isn’t time to wait, Father. We should be acting on our intelligence now if we have it.”
But Mother shook her head. “That’s not always the best way. We have intelligence and believe it’s correct. We need to make sure and to formulate a plan.”
The reply didn’t ease the burning in Ben’s gut. It didn’t satisfy his hunger for retaliation and revenge. At this moment, so much anger boiled inside him—anger over these attacks, Father’s injuries, and his relationship with Roanna. Nothing was as it should be. Everything was out of control.
“Your Mother is right, Ben.” Father’s calm demeanor took his anger down a notch. “Let’s take a little time in being happy to be together, shall we?”
Ben ground his teeth. There would be time for retaliation later. He nodded once then pulled a chair to the bedside.
Mother propped herself on the edge of the bed.
“Tell me about your time in Dawson’s Edge.”
That adventure was the last thing he wanted to think about. “Their land is different from ours. Greener, hotter.”
Father smiled and nodded. “Yes, it is different. What about the people? Did you find what you were looking for?”
Ben drew back. After a moment, he barked out a laugh. “If you meant did I find a wife, no.”
But Father didn’t laugh. “Then tell me who you connected with.”
He was being persistent. Why? “Two families above all others. The Sterns and the Maynes.”
Father’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. The look cleared before Ben knew what to make of it. “Interesting. They both have women your age. You didn’t find either of them acceptable?”
Acceptable? He spoke as if finding a wife were as inconsequential as finding the right tires for the Black Widow.
“Lady Britta was lovely, if not a bit daft.” He paused and glan
ced toward the door where Gregory waited in the hallway. “Lady Merry Stern was a bit more—agreeable—but she let me know from the beginning that she wasn’t sure she was interested.”
He half-expected a lecture on how to change a woman’s mind, but Father said nothing.
“Shall I show Prince Hamilton in?” the general asked.
Father raised his eyebrows. “Gregory is here? By all means, don’t leave him out in the hallway.”
Gregory stepped in a moment later. He bowed to Father and wished him well. Then he clasped his hands behind his back. “Chester’s Wake promises all resources in helping bring your attackers to justice.”
Father smiled. “Lox thanks you. In fact, I have been in contact with your father. Your own intelligence has been of great help already today.”
Ben listened with interest. He hadn’t heard of any of this intelligence. By the raised eyebrows on Gregory’s face, he hadn’t known, either.
Father laughed. “Pull up a chair. We can discuss it.”
52
Roanna
The Night Before
Roanna woke to confusion. Darkness surrounded her, along with a sweet scent. Something held her. She blinked and searched her surroundings.
Roland. The garden at Lox.
Her eyes widened and she pulled from his grip. “What happened?”
“You fainted.”
His words from earlier came rushing back. Only those of the Dawsonian line have this power…
She shook her head. He had to be wrong. “I’m not of the Dawsonian line.”
His eyes were gentle, and he stayed silent.
This wasn’t the Roland she had known over the last several weeks. The man she had come to understand was pompous and rude; uncaring and selfish. Only something very serious changed a person’s demeanor so much.
She shook her head again, and tears gathered in the corner of her eye. “How could it possibly be true?”
“You’ve been hearing thoughts? My thoughts?”
She watched him. Gauged him. Ben was the only person she’d told about the strange phenomenon going on. He wouldn’t have told a soul, let alone a Dawson.
So, if Ben hadn’t told, how could Roland know that?
“And you’ve had cold chills, correct? It was the shaking that first drew my attention at Santa Rio.”
“How do you know this?” Her voice cracked, and she gulped in air.
“Because it happens to me, as well. As it happens to King Bartholomew, our other siblings, and our heirs.”
“But I’m not a Dawson.” She jutted her chin in the air and swiped away the tears. This conversation was surreal, to be sure, but ridiculous. “My father is a Hamilton, and my mother is Loxian.”
Roland glanced up, and Roanna followed his gaze. The lights in Ben’s room were on. Roland wouldn’t know it was Ben’s room, but perhaps he’d seen something in the window.
“I don’t know what to make of that, either,” Roland admitted, finally looking back to her. “But I’ve spoken to King Bartholomew. It’s important that we see him. The sooner the better.”
“I’m here as a goodwill ambassador. I can’t leave right now.”
“Then tomorrow. The queen will be leaving for the southern border anyway.” He kept his gaze locked on her own.
Trepidation filled her. She began to run through possible scenarios in her mind, but she quickly shut them down. Could he hear her musings? She shut down the thoughts.
But something deeper pushed her to heed his words. A conviction in her belly said he could not know about her mind reading unless he knew from firsthand experience.
“What about my hair?” There was no doubt the instances were connected, as Dr. Presnell had warned years ago.
His eyes widened as his gaze travelled to her pinned up locks. “You put that together on your own?”
“Answer my question.” If she was to go along with this, it would be on her own terms. Besides, his reaction told her that her suspicions were correct.
He glanced around then looked up at Ben’s window again. “Can we speak somewhere else? I feel we’re not alone here.”
Roanna frowned and glanced up. Ben was nowhere to be seen, but she needed answers. “We can speak in my room.” Inviting him in was a gamble. But at this point she had no choice but to trust him.
She stood, but he stopped her. “You can trust me, Roanna. I’ll not hurt you.”
Chills broke across her skin, but this time they had more to do with her fear than anything. “Do you hear everything I think?”
“No. I’ll explain more inside.” He stood and followed her into the palace. Sounds drifted toward them from the crowd in the sitting room. A few servers darted about inside the palace, but no one paid them any mind. She led him up the stairs and to the left then to the end of the hall.
“You know your way around the Loxian palace well.”
She cut him a look, but his jealous behavior from the past seemed all but gone. “My family has spent much time here.”
He didn’t answer, and they slipped silently into her room.
Bette looked up from the clothes she was hanging. Her eyes widened. “Oh!”
Roanna hadn’t counted on Bette being present. “Bette, you may leave us. Come back in an hour.”
The timeframe seemed to give Bette a little comfort. She nodded quickly. “Of course, Miss.” She left the room and closed the door behind her.
Roanna moved to the only seating in the room, a small couch in the dressing area. Roland joined her.
For weeks, she had been working to understand what was happening to her. To unravel the mystery of her past. She had thought Dr. Presnell was the only way to get answers. Perhaps she was wrong.
She took a deep breath. “You promised to tell me about my hair.”
He nodded. “It isn’t exactly a known science, but it is believed the power is tied closely to the length of the hair. The longer the hair, the more powerful the telepathy.”
Her gaze moved to his own dark hair. It hung down his back, secured with a simple black tie.
“You said it has never happened before you met me? How long is your hair?”
Roanna fingered her hair, contemplating taking it down. Dare she mention why she’d always kept it short?
Dr. Presnell was a secret between her and Ben. For now, it would stay that way.
“Mother has kept it short for years. I’ve only recently been growing it out.”
He took her statement at face value. “That might explain it in part, but it generally only works with others who hold the power. You have never travelled to Dawson’s Edge before recently?”
She shook her head.
“Then the timing of your hair growth and meeting your first Dawsonian heir is coincidence. But it explains why you’ve never known of the power before.”
She put his words together slowly, her mind like a foggy field. “You mean to say I can only hear the thoughts of others who have this power? Such as yourself and King Dawson?”
“That’s right. And you can only hear things when we open our minds to being heard. I can’t believe I’ve never been able to hear you before.”
She considered her next words carefully. “I think I was working to keep my mind closed. I tried very hard to hide the shaking.”
He offered an unexpected and confusing smile.
“Is that funny?”
“No. It’s impressive. The shaking is part of the power, but it takes much work to control it. You must be very powerful.”
Powerful or not, she knew almost nothing of what she was doing. She considered confessing that she’d been experimenting—reaching out for the auras of others—but decided against it. The less Roland knew about her for the time, the better. “So, the only time I can hear you is if you open your mind to me?”
“Not to you specifically, no. I can only open my mind in general. When that happens, anyone who is standing in range—the same way I’d speak with my voice—can hear me, so long a
s they have the power, of course.”
That explained why she had heard both King Dawson and Roland the day they met at Edge River. The brothers had been speaking to each other, their minds open, so she had heard them.
“Can you sense each other, then? How do you know when someone’s mind is open?”
He nodded as if considering the way it worked for the first time in a long time. “I suppose you can feel it, if you are in tune. When my brothers wish to speak to me using the mind, I can feel the mental pull.”
“I felt it, the night of…” she faltered. This information was too strange to be true. “The night of the engagement party, I felt a strange pull. I followed it, and I heard you speaking. You, King Dawson, and a third man I didn’t recognize.”
His eyes darkened. “What did you hear?”
Roanna froze. He had urged her to trust him, but perhaps she had made the wrong choice in doing so.
53
“I don’t really know what I heard.” She shook her head, remembering. “I heard an argument, but it was low. Something about waiting until after the wedding.” The last few words came out painfully.
He leaned back on the couch, but his gaze never left her face. “That is all you heard?”
“Search my mind and tell me if I’m lying.”
Roland smirked. “It doesn’t work that way. I can only sense your presence, and hear your direct thoughts. You can lie inside your head just as well as out loud if you wanted.” He slid his arm along the back of the couch. “It’s amazing you’ve been able to figure all this out on your own. Were you taught about the Dawsons’ powers in Chester’s Wake?”
“No. We were only told you believed in some sort of magic. I didn’t know you actually possessed anomalies.”
His eyes penetrated hers. He was searching for the truth behind her words. Looking for anything she might not be saying out loud.
“It’s the truth, Roland. I had no idea.”
The Rejected Princess Page 19