A Royal Apocalypse (Lady Slayalot Book 1)

by Louisa Lo

  “Thank you,” she said to him formally. “I appreciate that.”

  Guess she should’ve used the royal “We,” if she were to be formal about it. But she had never grown used to that plural pronoun, and right now, she was just downright happy that Day had apologized. Excitedly, she added, “I’m hoping to get enough stuff going to do a complete package for all the soldiers. You know, a few things that would give them a better fighting chance on the job, and shinier hair out of it. The no-poo would also be included in this welcome kit I’m putting together for the refugees, although some of the items would be different…”

  She trailed off as she saw his expression become closed off in a matter of seconds. What happened? He seemed so contrite and genuine before, but something changed as soon as she mentioned the civilians.

  “The stuff for the refugees would include no-poo,” she tried again, slowly, watching his face as she talked. “Plus some Play-Doh a team picked up from a toy store. You have no idea how therapeutic playing with clay can be after suffering from a traumatic event, and unicorns can poop out Play-Doh in a rainbow of colors…”

  He wasn’t listening to a single word she was saying, she realized. He didn’t bat an eyelash when she made her rainbow and unicorn reference. In fact, his eyes had a dazed look as if he was staring at something unseen. Whatever was going through his head right now was big, so big that he seemed to have some kind of internal struggle with it.

  So she just shut up and looked at him.

  After a while he sighed.

  “What is it?” Chelsea asked.

  Day’s expression became serious. He checked his surrounding, then took Chelsea by her hand and pulled her to sit down with him. “I’m not supposed to say anything to you, but here it is—there’s no need for the refugee welcome packages, because there aren’t going to be any refugees coming in.”

  “What?” Chelsea’s head was spinning. “Colonel Martin told me my newcomer package idea had been green-lit by General Roland himself. Why would he devote resources to something that wouldn’t go through anyway?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? It was done to appease you. To keep you happy so you would do whatever they want you to do, including making calls to arms to build up the military’s strength.”

  “But I saw—during my coronation parade—people lining up to get processed into the base.”

  “No, what you saw were people lining up to get into the base before they were rejected. Listen, the general sees them as nothing but a drain on our resources.”

  “But he took in Emma and the others.”

  “Only because they came in with you. He was trying to get off to a good start with Your Royal Highness. But even the civilians who are already in camp are feeling nervous, wondering whether or not he’s just going to ship them off one night. Why do you think Emma’s mom put her up to being of service to you? To justify their existence, that’s why. And are you aware of the selective food shortages in the camp? We’re relying more and more on disgusting ration cubes. Do you think everyone gets scrambled eggs for breakfast?”

  No, she’d never thought of any of this. Granted, Chelsea knew all along that Emma’s Mom was behind the whole business of pushing her child to be a lady-in-waiting, but she had thought it was all about social climbing, not their very survival. The shift of perspective was disorienting.

  “But why can’t General Roland take in the civilians? He’s the one who said we’re fully supplied for a year. We might be low on certain items, but we’re not at a point where we need to turn away people in need, right?”

  “That would mean more mouths to feed, and the general already has plans for those supplies. Remember the broadcasts you’ve been making with the call to arms? People are coming from all over. They might not like what the crown stands for, but they need to believe in something. The weak, the young, the injured… they’re not going to help build that elite army the general had in mind. This influx of volunteers you’re attracting? They will.”

  That meant she was the one who inadvertently made it harder for the civilians to stay, simply by offering the general a more advantageous use of his resources.

  “They wouldn’t even let my own sister in,” Day continued bitterly. “Me, who’s in service. She has to stay at a refugee camp a kilometer from here, with no hot water, no privacy, bare-minimum protection, and crappy meals I wouldn’t even feed our family cat.”

  No wonder he wouldn’t talk about his sister, despite her apparent survival—because her ultimate survival wasn’t guaranteed. That must have been the fate Emma’s mother was trying to avoid.

  “I’m so sorry.” Chelsea whispered.

  “And just in case you’re wondering,” Day added. “The growing military power might have been cultivated in your name, but it will not be yours to wield.”

  “I know that,” she admitted. If she were really in charge, she wouldn’t have needed the green light from General Roland for her little projects. A thought occurred to her. “The truth about the civilians… is that why you’ve been acting weird all this time?”

  “It was killing me. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t.” Day ran his fingers through his hair. “Not without getting Nik and Sonny into trouble as well. We were already in hot water because we helped you at the grocery store. And I was so mad when I saw you appearing to be such a pushover. The hot pink boot covers were the last straw. I should’ve asked before I assumed the worst of you.”

  “You’re not wrong when it comes to me being a figurehead,” Chelsea allowed. “But should I confront the general about his ruse? I don’t want the civilians to be turned away. And I don’t want them to live in substandard conditions like that, without adequate protection.”

  Day thought for a moment. “You have to convince General Roland to respect your judgment. That’s the only way to make your case. It’s not like you can just strong-arm him.”

  The mental image of the formidable, albeit ostentatious, general being strong-armed brought a smile to her face. “I guess not.”

  “He’s a man of action. So your packages for the soldiers will get his attention, especially if they’re as effective as I believe they will be. You’ll see. And if you want,” Day paused. “I could teach you some military basics, on top of what you already know.”

  Chelsea felt touched by his gesture. “Thanks.”

  “No prob.” Day shrugged. “I’m beginning to see that you might be a true leader in your own right.”

  Chelsea couldn’t believe her ears. “Me? But you know full well I’m not trained for this. I can’t even tell the difference between a Barrett and a Beretta.”

  Yeah, sure, in time her speech had gotten better, her voice richer and more resonant with growing confidence, but being a real power player took so much more than that.

  “Your heart is in the right place.” Day smiled. “You felt bad about accidently hurting that pugil sticks fighter, and you had the presence of mind to think of making these packages for the troops. General Roland might be brilliant, but he never would have thought of that. Believe me, it would have never occurred to him to create diversions using lipsticks. I’m just sorry it’s taken me this long to believe in you.”

  It was no longer than the time it had taken for her to believe in herself. Chelsea thought back to the grocery store and smiled. Despite the horror, she did enjoy being in charge—it had given her a purpose so strong, it was like nothing else she’d experienced before.

  But there was something else she needed to get out in the air with Day. “If we’re to be open with each other, then tell me about Newbridge.”

  Day averted his gaze. He was silent for so long that Chelsea thought he was just going to ignore the question. But eventually he started speaking. “Newbridge was the location of an assignment I had a couple of months back. Colonel Martin was the CO. It was the first time I’d ever encountered a Pretty. The long and the short of it is, I took too long verifying that he was what he was, so he got away. But then he ended up
not getting away, but no thanks to me.”

  Chelsea was puzzled. “Huh?”

  Day lifted his palms, then let them fall. “Someone else got to him.”

  “You mean like another soldier?”

  “No, that’s the thing. It was a civilian, except she wasn’t.”

  Chelsea held up a hand. “Okay, you totally lost me. So you encountered an Obsessed who almost got away, except he didn’t, because of a civilian who’s not a civilian?”

  Day’s brows furrowed. “More like someone who’s even more of an urban legend than the Pretties.”

  Chelsea just looked at Day in bewilderment.

  “Have you ever heard of monster slayers?” he asked.

  “You mean like Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” Chelsea felt silly even saying that aloud. Vampire slayers, indeed. Next she would be yakking about witches and vengeance demons.

  Day winced. “Yeah, like that, but for real. For almost as long as there have been stories about the Pretties, there’d been tales about a hunter who kills them. They called her Anita.”

  “Anita?”

  “Yeah. A female monster slayer. Just like on TV. Pretty incredible, huh?”

  “No more incredible than a shoe-zombie apocalypse,” Chelsea said softly.

  “Yeah, true.” Day’s eyes seemed far away. “So I lost the Pretty and got separated from my team. When I caught up with the target again, he was already in half, with a woman standing over him. She didn’t have a gun—she had this really wicked sword. And it was drenched in blood.”

  “A sword?” Chelsea couldn’t believe her ears. Was the woman on her way to a Renaissance festival or something? “What did you do then?”

  “What I was supposed to do, as per General Roland’s direct order,” Day gritted his teeth, “was to shoot Anita.”

  “What?” Against some sword-wielding non-soldier? Wouldn’t that be an overkill, no pun intended?

  “That’s right. I don’t know why, but my team and I were given specific instruction to shoot to kill if I ever encountered her on the field. But she wasn’t attacking me, and she wasn’t an unfriendly. Most important, she got rid of my enemy for me. I couldn’t very well eliminate her. When she saw my hesitation, she said to me, ‘Kill me, and a lot of people will die in the coming battle.’ Then she melted into the woods like a ghost.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Yeah. She was gone before I could even aim the rifle at her. Naturally, when I came back to the base, Colonel Martin crucified me. I had a clear shot at her, and I didn’t take it. That’s why I was reassigned to the team I was with the day of the attack. It’s considered one of the more junior A-Teams in the group.”

  And then Chelsea went and got him into even more trouble by getting him to disobey his superior again over the grocery store incident. No wonder he ended up with the babysitting job.

  “Ironically,” Day said ruefully, “the fact that my team got sent into the less urban areas is the reason we had a higher survival rate than other teams in the initial wave.”

  “Only three out of twelve in your team made it.” Chelsea pointed out.

  “Yeah, but most teams were completely wiped out.”

  Well, everything was relative, she supposed.

  “This Anita,” Chelsea pursed her lips. “Could the coming battle she was talking about have referred to the Obsessed attack?”

  Day shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe that’s just the crazy words of some maniac running around with a sword.”

  “Who happened to have the strength to cut a monster in half.” Chelsea shuddered.

  “Yeah.”

  She straightened and picked an invisible piece of lint off her sleeve. “Well, thank you for sharing all that with me, Captain Day. I appreciate it,” Chelsea said.

  “You’re welcome, Your Majesty.” For the first time, he said it without a single trace of sarcasm or bitterness.

  “And I think you were right to hesitate before shooting her. That shows critical thinking.”

  “Thank you.”

  A pause.

  Chelsea wasn’t sure where to go from here. Now that they had gotten the half-truths and secrets out of the way, she could finally admit to herself that she rather liked him. Just a tiny bit.

  All right, maybe more than just a tiny bit.

  She leaned a little closer to him, and he mirrored her movement.

  Another pause.

  A million thoughts raced through her head. The awareness that their lips were now just a breath apart, the desire to reach out and rub her hand along his jaw, and the underlying sense of awe that they had managed to reach this point at all.

  He drew himself even closer.

  Then his lips were touching hers. Just barely.

  After all that talk of demotion, death, and devastation, the feather-light kiss felt like an reaffirmation of life, a reminder that even in the most unexpected places, there were warmth and sweetness.

  “A-hem.” Someone coughed behind them.

  Day and Chelsea broke apart and jumped guiltily to their feet. Leaning comfortably against the frame of a door that would’ve led into the warehouse area was Ruiz. Instead of the pale blue hospital gown, he was now in green khaki pants, a dark blue shirt, and heavy boots. In his hands was a box in the same pattern and size as the ones Chelsea had picked up from here before.

  “Ruiz!” Chelsea shouted, her cheeks burning. The best defense was a good offense. “What are you doing here? I thought they said you had a fever.”

  At least that was what Nik had told Chelsea this morning. Despite his broken ribs being healed up nicely, the veteran had unfortunately picked up an infection in his lungs and was fighting a mild fever. Chelsea was surprised that they had let him out at all, let alone that he was looking so remarkably well. There was strong coloring on his cheeks, and they appeared to come from good health, not fever.

  Ruiz chuckled as he put the box down on the last chair in the row, at the end furthest from the front entrance. “I’ve been faking it. Not hard to do if you know the signs they’re looking for. They didn’t even bother to do a culture.”

  “Wait, faking it?” Chelsea asked. Yes, focusing on Ruiz’s bizarre behavior was an excellent way to divert attention from what she and Day had been doing. At the sight of Ruiz, Day had jumped up and practically stood at parade rest—silent, with his eyes straight ahead. Chelsea had a feeling, though, that the rigid stance had nothing to do with rank or respect, but the fact that Day was truly embarrassed.

  Ruiz, though, didn’t seem to notice the awkwardness his presence had brought about. “That’s right.”

  “But I thought you military types were all about being tough and stoic. Doesn’t that mean not complaining about your aches and pains, even to your own detriment?” Chelsea frowned.

  “Not if said military type wants to fly under the radar,” Ruiz said cheerfully.

  When Chelsea raised an eyebrow, Ruiz’s expression turned serious. “Look, kiddo, I’m here to ask for your help.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Chelsea asked curiously.

  “Same as what this guy was asking you.” Ruiz pointed at Day. “Be the Queen.”

  PART THREE

  QUEEN

  Chapter Nineteen

  Deniability

  The first thing that went through Chelsea’s mind wasn’t Ruiz’s request, or even his need to stay under the radar. “How long have you been eavesdropping on us?” she demanded.

  As in, did you just stand there and watch me kiss Day? Creepy much?

  Ruiz didn’t look repentant, “I was curious to hear Captain Day’s story, that’s all.”

  Day snorted.

  “Enough horsing around,” Ruiz huffed. “As I said, I came here to ask for the Queen’s help.”

  “What is it?” Chelsea asked, genuinely curious. What kind of Queenly aid could she actually provide for him?

  “You know that refugee camp Day was telling you about? It’s under attack by the Pretties. Got them good and su
rrounded, from what I’ve heard.”

  “What?” Day yelled. “How do you know?”

  “I’ve got my resources,” Ruiz said mysteriously.

  “But why?” Chelsea asked dazedly. “Surely there’s no brand name stuff at the camp. Why attack there?”

  Ruiz shrugged. “Beats me.”

  “We have to tell General Roland,” Chelsea said anxiously.

  “That’s not going to help,” Ruiz stated firmly. “Do you know there were actually two of these camps set up since the attack? The other one just got wiped out last week, and our dear general did nothing to help.”

  “Why not?” Chelsea couldn’t believe her ears. That was downright coldblooded.

  “The Obsessed have been striking at us all over the place in the past few weeks. The general’s argument is that we can’t help everyone. We have to conserve our strength.”

  “You mean conserve his power base.” Day cursed.

  “If he didn’t help before, he’s not going to help now with this second camp,” Ruiz said logically.

  “But we’ve got to do something,” Chelsea declared.

  “We have to,” Day’s voice sounded strained. “My sister is there. It’s one thing to have her live in horrible conditions, it’s another to let her die and do nothing.”

  “We can round up volunteers and sneak out to help,” Ruiz suggested.

  “But wouldn’t that get Day and the others in trouble?” Chelsea asked. Sure, Nik and Sonny would help, maybe others. But she didn’t want to see anybody getting court-martialed over this.

  Ruiz’s eyes gleamed. “Ah, but here’s the beauty to my plan—General Roland is not at the base.”

  “What?” Day exclaimed.

  Ruiz shrugged. “He left a few hours ago and hasn’t come back yet. If the general is not here to forbid the mission, and Your Majesty, the Commander-in-Chief, is willing to order it, then the soldiers involved aren’t technically breaking any rules. All we have to do is get past Colonel Martin so he doesn’t know to stop us.”