Page 13

THIRTEEN

“Is the RPS here just a bunch of empaths all verging on having a meltdown?”

Terry dragged me to his SUV, as I refused to leave Thunder alone with Dr. Stanton, who rolled her eyes over my tantrum. “We have to get to the courthouse, Your Royal Highness. As we cannot bring Thunder to the courthouse, you need to leave him here. Dr. Stanton already told you that he’s healthy and clean of any diseases New York quarantines for. She will take good care of him through his first vet and farrier visit. I know you want to be in attendance, but we don’t have all day.”

I put up a fight, and a laughing Daphne joined in, helping to shove me into the SUV. Once inside, she joined me, pushing me onto the seat before buckling in. “I’ll contain him, Terry. Are you driving?”

“I will be, yes. Ian, they’ll call me if there are any problems with your horse. If we don’t rescue your sister from the paperwork, she might burn the courthouse down. And His Majesty is holding the officiation of their documents until we arrive.”

Damn it. I secured my belt, grumbled curses, and said, “The cameras are still in my suite.”

“I have a camera Madelyn can use if it’s needed.” The RPS agent closed the door, circled the vehicle, and got behind the wheel. “Damned horse empaths.”

“Kettle,” Daphne teased.

“I can leave my horses at the stable without issue.”

“You can, but you bitterly complain if you have to skip your trip to the barn to gush over your babies. Don’t even try to trick me, Terry. Maybe you can trick Ian, but you’re just as bad as he is.” Daphne tilted her head to the side, likely listening to something on her earpiece. “Seriously? Terry, is the RPS here just a bunch of empaths all verging on having a meltdown?”

“We have more than a few empaths; about half of the agents are empaths. Her Majesty needed them, and now that they’re here, none of them want to go back to their original posts. She’s easy to work with, and a lot of them have warmed up to His Royal Highness now that they know his previous agents had dropped the ball. I already did the interviews about his situation. The empaths had no idea, and the agents weren’t tracking who was at base and who was with Ian. And sorry, Ian. You’re getting a team of empaths, and they’re in a bit of a fight over who gets to be part of your detail.”

Terry’s tone, which blended exasperation and resignation, amused me. “As long as the empaths are available to help Madelyn, I’m fine with that. You could surround me with beautiful women. I wouldn’t mind.”

Daphne snickered. “No, but your new woman might.”

I allowed myself a sly smile. “That’s half the fun. I want to see what she’ll do.”

“Lose her mind,” Terry muttered. “And while it’s good to see that you’re taking a playful approach, I’m not going to assign a bunch of the women to your detail just so you can evaluate what Madelyn does. However, I will be assigning a bunch of the women to Madelyn’s detail, as I’m confident that any men who match her abuser’s profile will trip her trigger right now.”

“Please tell me I don’t match his profile.”

“You’re lithe to the point of being willowy. He’s rather bulky. He’s more of the bodybuilder type, where you’re more of a swimmer. You’re athletic, but you’re not bursting with testosterone.”

It took me all of three seconds to understand the problem—and why Madelyn had struggled to get out of the situation. “Terry, please enroll me for some self-defense courses with a focus on beating the shit out of men larger and stronger than I am. Without magic, of course.”

He sighed. “Can’t you just reduce him to ash? I’ll make arrangements for some courses, as I would like Madelyn to take them as well, but this man is dangerous, and he’s the kind of dangerous that could result in injury or death if he gets a hold of you. I’m of the opinion the only reason Madelyn hadn’t suffered more was because he didn’t want to lose his maid and home cook.”

What a bastard. “I think I will be the first New York royal to be competent in a kitchen. Can you ask the Californians if they can find someone to teach me how to cook? If she’s been forced to cook and clean for this bastard, I’ll make sure she understands she only has to do those things if she wants to. Selling it shouldn’t be difficult; I already have an issue with cleaning.”

“As long as you keep your cleaning to tolerable limits,” Terry replied. “Daphne? Can you ask His Royal Majesty if we can borrow you for two to three weeks? I’m sure he has something needing to be done in California.”

“I’m supposed to go to Spain in a week to meet some horses.”

“Ask them to bring the horses to California and do a demonstration,” the RPS agent suggested. “I can give His Royal Majesty of Spain a call about it. Considering the situation, I want you on hand. The fastest way to take Ian out non-lethally will be a bullet at this stage. I’d bet a leg shot. Otherwise, his talent is a beast and everyone knows it.”

Daphne got out her phone, put it on speaker, and dialed.

After the second ring, His Royal Majesty of Montana answered, “What’s wrong, Daphne?”

“Nothing’s particularly wrong, but I’m going to confirm that we saw both of the bastards, and Ian had a talk with them. He was given a peace offering of black Jutland stallion.”

“What the fuck?” After a moment, Montana’s king sighed. “Rolling Thunder, Hear my Cry?”

I blinked. “His name is a book title?”

“Yes. There’s only one black Jutland stallion on the books right now, and his name is Rolling Thunder, Hear My Cry; he belongs to His Royal Majesty of Denmark—or had. Hold on.” I heard some typing in the background. “I’ll be fucking damned. The registration shows you as the current owner, Ian.”

Well, well, well. That supported my parents’ claims. “There’s a new terrorist cell, and my parents had sufficient loyalties to the Royal States to risk coming to New York to tell me—and Daphne—about it. They brought Thunder with them. He’s currently getting his health checks.”

“That horse is priceless, Ian. There are only four purebred blacks left, and only one is a stallion—and the blacks are all related to each other. Thunder is five, and he hasn’t been bred yet. He’s proven in show circles, though. What is going on that His Royal Majesty of Denmark would trust your parents with him?”

“Terrorists,” I reminded him. “My parents are a lot of things, but they hate terrorists, and I’m a target, as is Daphne. This group wants to cultivate royalty for a more aggressive caste system, apparently. I’m guessing we’d deteriorate back to the Second Civil War caste system.” I remembered my history and how magical abilities had rapidly led to the enslavement of lower caste and null people, especially in what would become Montana. “Denmark must know about the terrorists and wanted us to get the information—and act on it. Beyond that, I can’t guess why else I’d be given a horse.”

“They’re strong bonding candidates,” Terry announced.

“Ah, Terry. How is my sister doing?”

“She is currently taking over New York with her pregnancy hormones, forcing the monarchs to handle paperwork at the courthouse while I keep an eye on Ian. The twins were fine as of last night. Dr. Stanton is checking on them daily because she can.”

“Good. I’ll send over raspberry tea to help contain the beast. Which one is the empath?”

Terry chuckled. “We’re thinking Ian. He was on edge, and he knows his parents have a rather strong dislike for horses, so his talent would have been flaring at their meeting. And no, Ian, you cannot hide how delighted you were to discover a horse in that trailer.”

“I asked my sister for a horse.”

His Royal Majesty of Montana made a thoughtful sound. “I’ll give Denmark a call and see what I can figure out—and inquire on purchasing a few mares so Rolling Thunder, Hear My Cry can start doing his work to help the breed. They’re not sure why there aren’t many blacks left in the Jutland breed; the base law of genetics for color genetics indicates there should be far more than four blacks in the breeding population. Something is smothering the breed’s color potentials on the black line, and we’re not sure what. Most want flaxen chestnuts for Jutlands, but Rolling Thunder, Hear My Cry isn’t just a black, he’s a gene carrier for silver.”

“Do you just read about horses all day?” I asked, rolling my eyes over Montana’s king and his complete obsession with horses.

“I don’t have a Jutland yet,” he complained. “Denmark won’t sell me one. This is completely unfair.”

One day, I might understand him, maybe. “And his registration confirms he’s really my horse?”

“That’s correct. It appears the registration was updated four weeks ago. They must have transported him by ship, as there’s no record of him taking a flight. Flights are usually marked with the registration to help better track animal imports.”

That explained why my mother would have been complaining about having to take care of the animal. If they’d transported him by ship, he would have been stuck in a stall the entire time, requiring a great deal of attention to remain sound. “Daphne, please tell Dr. Stanton he might be barn sour from a long overseas venture.”

It happened sometimes. Lengthy confinement could result in a horse refusing to leave their stalls to go out to pasture readily—or work to return to their stall.

“I’m impressed you know about barn souring,” His Royal Majesty of Montana commented.

“Saoirse barn soured whenever I left on trips and couldn’t handle his care. I usually was able to resolve it within a week of coming home, but if I was gone for more than two or three days at a time, he’d sour and refuse to work with anybody. His stall was his safe space. With my parents involved? I will not be surprised if Thunder is sour.”

“Daphne can handle working with a soured horse, so try not to worry about it. Daphne?”

“I’ll take care of it, and I’ll pass along recommendations in case he does prove to be sour. Since he has cleared his health checks, I’ll have them put him out into the corral for now so he can get used to having some space and stretch his legs.”

Terry lifted his hand and requested that someone arrange for the construction workers to set up a dedicated pasture for Thunder.

I foresaw the entirety of the palace grounds going to the horses by the time we were done. “Will it be okay to take him to California?”

“He’ll be safe on the palace grounds, and I’ll go ahead and warn California about the importance of your stud—and I’ll ask about collecting him. He hasn’t been collected yet, and his genetics are too important to leave to chance. Do you know about semen storage, Ian?”

“I have an account with a company in Texas. King Patrick collected Saoirse before gelding him.”

“Ah. Do you want a foal? If so, I can handle all the details and get a line on a recip and a donor mare.”

What on Earth was the king talking about? “A what and a what?”

“A recipient mare is a mare who carries babies for other mares. A donor mare will be the biological mother of your foal. It’s a bunch of paperwork and things you don’t have time to handle right now, and I’m an old hand at it. I know how much you loved your gelding, and having a little one under foot will be good for you. Some registries don’t allow it, but most people don’t care about that when they’re after a heart horse.”

Ah. His Royal Majesty of Montana wanted me to have a horse I felt was truly mine, from conception with no strings attached.

King Patrick of Texas had said as much when handing over the paperwork for Saoirse’s semen. “Terry, can you ask someone to get the paperwork from King Patrick? I have a copy in my safe, but it’s a biometric safe, and I wish you the best of luck getting into it.”

“I’ll handle Pat,” Montana’s king promised. “Do you want a filly or a colt? Or do you want however many viable embryos we get? With this method, we can pick the gender.”

The thought of allowing one of Saoirse’s little ones be discarded irritated me. “Is it possible to just try to breed all the viable embryos?”

“He’s a probable horse empath,” Daphne said, and the evil woman laughed at me. “He looked like you’d slapped him with that question. Ian, the technique isn’t faultless, and we run a chance of losing embryos. We can try to work with all the embryos, but if we do a bunch of collections or use frozen eggs, you might end up rolling in foals.”

“I’m sure I can find a place to board them,” I muttered.

“The palace has space for at least six of your horses,” Terry assured me. “Why not try for six embryos? That way, there are high chances of at least one taking, and we won’t run out of stalls.”

“I’ll try for six. I’ll get on the phone with Denmark, see if I can get a line on some Jutland mares, and make the arrangements for collecting. I’ll have to ask him about the registry requirements, but frankly, with the issues the breed has been having, he probably sent Thunder over hoping I’d meddle. He would!”

After offering a goodbye, Montana’s king hung up. I bowed my head and sighed. “I’m sorry about all the trouble.”

Daphne patted my shoulder. “You’re not any trouble, Ian. My evil twerp of a cousin can’t help himself. Let those pesky monarchs amuse themselves. When foals show up, you can enjoy the good part. Just try not to fall in love with their mommies. Nothing sucks more than falling in love with a loaned recip mare and having to send her back home.” She reached forward and smacked Terry’s seat. “Order those bastards to get a move on. We’ve had enough time to scheme and cause problems. If they let us sit idle much longer, I might start getting ideas.”

“Heaven forbid,” Terry replied in a dry tone, although he did relay her suggestion that they should hit the road, else Her Royal Majesty of New York might burn the courthouse down.

Given time, she might.

Rather than mention that, I settled in for the drive, hoping traffic would show even a scrap of mercy on us.

* * *

Traffic showed us zero mercy, and rather than cuss a storm over the relentless stop and go, I caught a nap. Over two hours later, Daphne woke me, and the woman muttered curses. “How do you deal with that all the time?”

“I don’t. I go to my junkyard and hide—or make Terry deal with it while I sleep.”

“You suck, Ian. I wasn’t allowed to nap. I tried. Terry scolded me.”

“I really did,” my sister’s agent stated, and he snickered before getting out of the SUV. “Was that a boredom or stress nap?”

“Boredom,” I replied, stretching before freeing myself from the seat belt and climbing out of the vehicle after Daphne. “If it wins me sympathy from the tyrant royal physician taking over New York, you can pretend it was stress.”

“Considering you were conked out hard enough to sleep through an accident that happened right in front of us, I may have called Dr. Stanton,” Terry admitted. “There was a fatality. The cause was a drunk driver.”

Damn it. “Please tell me the drunk driver was the fatality, at least that way only they paid for their fucking stupidity.”

“He was. There were injuries, and one of the victims doesn’t have insurance, but I had one of the other agents pass along the RPS business card and strongly suggest the insurance issue quietly disappear. There will be no additional fatalities from that crash on my watch.”

I foresaw a living nightmare my sister would have to deal with. “Just tell my sister that there should be a law where all victims of drunk drivers are guaranteed care at insured rates, and the policy selected is the best of the best for the year. If the driver has insurance, all costs of care are transferred to the driver, including the deductions. It should be an easy pass and prevent issues.”

“Who is going to pay for that?” Terry asked.

“Nobody. Everyone with half a grain of common sense knows that the actual cost of care is the deductible rate as a general rule. It’ll give the hospitals a good reason to chase after the driver’s insurance. Have her dig out a list of incidents that have clear fault, including drunk or drugged driving, speeding, running lights, and so on. Allow premiums to be raised on those instances, and call it a day.”

“I’m stealing that idea for Montana,” Daphne informed me. “The insurance companies are going to hate it; it’ll cost them more because they’ll be paying the deductibles for the victims.”

“And we can add some rules where there will be fines for uninsured drivers equaling the total cost of the victim’s care. Another easy pass. The uninsured will hate it, but if they hadn’t broken the laws or chosen to drink and drive, then they wouldn’t be paying any penalties at all.” I regarded the courthouse parking lot with disdain, as the gloomy place seemed perfect for a serial killer to go on the hunt. “How positively gloomy. What is this? A method of demoralizing all who have to go to the courthouse?”

Daphne chuckled, planted her hands on my back, and pushed me in the direction of the nearby stairwell. “We do not get to take the elevator. The RPS with your sister took one look at it and determined all royalty needed to have some exercise. I saw pictures. If you think this is gloomy, the elevator looks like it eats people for breakfast. Your sister has already informed the courthouse that it will be replaced.”

“Is that what you RPS agents do when your royal is napping? You gossip?”

“Aw, Terry. I have my very own pet royal. You heard him!”

“Good luck convincing Her Royal Majesty to let you keep him,” Terry replied, shaking his head and alarming the SUV. “Now that you’re here, they can sign the paperwork officiating their union in New York, which will make it unassailable. Please don’t make a scene.”

“No protesting their union, Ian,” Daphne translated. “Sure, it’d be hilarious if you came up with some bullshit reason to delay things, but try not to fuss. There has been enough fussing for one day.”

My sister’s head of detail sighed and shook his head. “Her Edward is fussing. He is missing his princess, and he’s tired of trying to babysit New Yorkers.”

How had I become a bastion of sanity? “Oh. He’s here already?”

“It was the safest place for him, and I wasn’t letting him anywhere near your parents.” Daphne sighed. “I’m going to pay for that for a while, or so he says.”

There was no way I was getting caught between a Brit and his Montana princess waging war against each other. “You’re just going to have to handle your Brit on your own. Is there anything I need to know beyond sleeping through a car wreck?”

Terry shook his head. “It’s been quiet. If the ex knows about the trip here, he hasn’t come out. He’s a cheap bastard from the looks of it, so coming here is likely outside of his budget, especially now that he can’t pillage Madelyn’s money. The palace opened a new bank account for her upon finding out what was going on and had her removed from the other account. Her pay had been held until the new account was open, so she has her earnings.”

That Terry was calling someone a cheap bastard rang alarm bells. I could see Daphne doing it, but Terry? “What happened?”

“Nothing new has happened. I was given more details about the situation, and I’m less than pleased about it. I was tempted to inform your parents about this man. Upon hearing the details, I have no doubt they would make him disappear. Permanently.”

If Terry skirted losing his temper, I feared how intense my rage would become if I learned the truth. As such, I resolved to mind my business and pretend I hadn’t heard him. “Do you need a few minutes to rein your temper in, Terry? Let’s not upset Madelyn or my sister. If those two both get upset at the same time, we might not live to tell the tale.” I wrinkled my nose at the staircase, heaved a sigh, and began the hike up. “Please tell me we’re not at the bottom of the garage.”

“We’re at the bottom of the garage. It was the most secure place. They had some violent crime trials today, and some of the witnesses are less than savory. The risk assessment was unacceptable, so we got the basement. That’s also part of why the elevator was banned. Until we’re done, this area is closed off and everyone has to use the elevator or a different stairwell.”

Terry hustled, catching up and then passing me. As I refused to be beat by some RPS agent without putting up a good fight, I picked up the pace.

Behind us, Daphne laughed. “Ian, don’t pick a fight you can’t win. Unlike you, Terry’s back in his prime. He’d crush us both for the fun of it and laugh while setting up our punishment, which involves excess exercise.”

“I really will.”

As I refused to go out without a fight, I hurried, passed the RPS agent, and climbed like I meant it, forcing both to scramble to keep up. I beat them to the ground floor, and I smiled and held out my hand to Terry. “Hand over the squirrel. I wish to become her friend.”

Laughing, the RPS agent opened his suit jacket, checked on his little pet, and held her out. After a few minutes, she eased from her owner’s hand to mine. She sniffed and investigated me while I petted her, careful to avoid where she still healed. “Is her health improving?”

If something happened to Pink Lady, the entire palace would have a meltdown. It had only taken a day for everyone to fall in love with the little rodent. Then again, everyone had seen her on the grounds and liked her.

As far as squirrels went, she was cute, friendly, and hadn’t spent her time cussing us out for daring to enter her territory.

“She’s doing good. I give it another two or three days before she becomes more active. Then I’ll start training her in earnest so she can accompany me most of the time at work. Your sister’s rats are being vaccinated as we speak, so we’ll be able to do introductions tomorrow.”

I smiled, gave the little black squirrel a kiss on her nose, and returned her to her owner. “Good. She’s been desperate to play with Pink Lady.”

“Just wash your hands and your mouth before petting your sister’s rats,” Terry requested. “The vet wants at least twelve hours between vaccination and exposure.”

“Dr. Paulseno or Jacob?”

“Dr. Paulseno. Jacob will be handling the equines and special cases, and Dr. Paulseno will be continuing his work with the rodents.”

“I’ll wash my hands as soon as we’re inside.” To keep my word, I went on a search for the nearest bathroom, taking the time to tidy up while Terry chuckled at my determination to be somewhat presentable. Once finished, Terry inquired on the current location of the queen.

His sigh warned me of trouble on the horizon.

“What did Rachel do now?”

“She got requested to attend a custody hearing, and it isn’t going well.”

Crap. “What happened?”

“The mother was arrested for operating a drug lab in her basement. The father has numerous convictions of abuse, murder, and theft. The families on either side are no better. The judge is a conservative traditionalist, but this is the one case where he does not feel the mother is fit to keep custody—and the father is currently serving time for murder.” Terry tilted his head to the side, listening to his earpiece. “Apparently, the father doesn’t feel a woman, even the queen, is qualified to determine if another man is capable of having custody.”

“While he’s in prison?” Sometimes, I questioned people. “Do these people even like their child?”

“I’m guessing not, but the parents are so focused on hurting each other that they don’t care about the child.”

That was something I could understand. “Will these parents accept my judgment?”

Terry lifted his hand and relayed my question. After a few minutes, he nodded. “Both parents have agreed on grounds of your empathy.”

For fuck’s sake. “Does everybody think I’m an empath at this stage?”

“You are an empath, Ian.”

“You’re far better of an empath than I am.”

“Empathy isn’t just about sensing the emotions of others. It’s also about being able to see to the heart of matters and finding diplomatic solutions to complicated problems. You’re a natural at that. Just do what you do best.” The RPS agent cast a sly look my way. “Madelyn will be there, and this is the sort of thing you shine at.”

“As if I needed more pressure,” I muttered. “Daphne? Back me up on this.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Have a temper tantrum that would make your cousin proud if I’m unable to find a decent resolution to this. You’re good at that, especially when it comes to kids.”

If I had anything to say about it, the kid would be the only winner in the courtroom, and by the end of the day, their life would be improved. The how of it would be the tricky part, but I’d figure something out.

I always did, one way or another.