Page 31

THIRTY

The horse snorted flame.

Two hours after we finished dinner, an old family car pulled up to the public entrance of the palace, something I learned the RPS enjoyed using for staged events. When the royalty wanted peace and quiet, they came and went from a garage with a short driveway to the main road, which was labeled as the staff entrance.

There was another entrance marked for visitors and royalty as a decoy that led to a second garage, but GPS guided everyone coming to the palace to the public entrance.

The reporter, according to the Californian RPS agents, had not been given access to the staff entrance due to his tendency to chase glory rather than seek out the truth. Within the matter of a few hours, his career would be in ruins while the young woman the Californian monarchs had invited would see hers rise at a rather brisk clip. While she was wide eyed over the whole thing, she’d listened to everyone, took notes, and captured a mix of videos and photographs.

Madelyn had been rather bold about informing the reporter what sort of man her ex was, giving a rather distressing and comprehensive accounting of the various ways he’d forced her to stay.

At one point, she’d captured my hand in hers and clutched it with startling force, the only outward sign the situation bothered her. Fortunately for both of us, I managed my crutches with grace even with the loss of a hand, which I didn’t mind in the slightest.

Had I trained myself to snap my fingers to dispatch my enemies, the situation would have worried me.

The car came to a halt near the steps, close enough that the RPS agents tensed. Some positioned themselves to access their firearm. Others narrowed their eyes, waiting for if they needed to strike with their talent. As Madelyn still had my watch and no interest in releasing my hand, I unleashed my talent enough for it to manifest. At first, the flames appeared as a wisp of light before it grew and took the shape of a horse, standing close and still.

Madelyn eyed my creation, which beat Thunder in size by a hefty margin. “I would think twice about approaching with him on guard, that’s for sure. Dr. Stanton? Is he supposed to be doing that?”

“Such refined control of his talent even in his fevered state is a good sign, and it’s faster to react when he’s already manifested, so he’s just being prepared. Try not to burn the stones, Ian. You’ll make the Californians cry.”

I chuckled, wondering how the royal physician would react if I told her I’d rather deliberately given my talent free rein to join the festivities. Later, I’d start that conversation with her to figure out how much of my talent was free willed and how much of it simply reflected me as an individual.

The horse snorted flame but left the ground around it intact.

Two men got out of the vehicle, and I identified Madelyn’s abuser through his physique. I could understand why she’d consider me to be a safe haven compared to him. We couldn’t have been more different if we tried, from hair color to bone and muscle structure. I eyed the man with disdain. “He’s like a brick shit house with a smaller brick shit house for his head,” I muttered.

Did he even have a neck? I couldn’t tell. That he’d opted for worn, dirty clothes gave me a few clues about Madelyn’s role in his life. She’d likely done every chore under his reign, leaving him unable to even clean the toilet without help.

My first act as a happily engaged man would be to show her that I could handle the household chores unless she wanted to help, especially until she became more comfortable with the situation. As it was, she’d have her hands full when the girls realized there was a new mommy in the picture to go with their new daddy.

Madelyn’s grip on my hand tightened.

To put her at ease, I whispered, “I know how to do my own laundry, and I can even wash the dishes.”

She clamped her lips together, but a snorted giggle emerged.

In a typical Terry move, the RPS agent interposed himself between Madelyn and her abuser. Will joined in, and because someone had snitched to Terry’s wife, Olivia hovered, and judging from the way she flexed her hands, she wanted to help the bastard shit his teeth, too.

When honest with myself, the biggest threat among the royals was Daphne, and she headed down the steps to introduce herself to the reporter.

Maybe we should have nominated someone other than her to deal with the pair. But Daphne was Daphne, and in her mind, the reporter was an idiot, Madelyn’s abuser was no better than a terrorist, and she’d never forgive any of us if she didn’t get a chance at a terrorist.

I’d already stolen many terrorist kills from her.

Rather than shake his outstretched hand, she regarded him with the same disdain I reserved for venomous snakes. “Why did you think it was a good idea to help a rapist abuser violate his restraining order for a chance at his victim?”

The reporter’s eyes widened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The rapist abuser stiffened, but he was smarter than he looked, as he kept his mouth shut.

Daphne got into the reporter’s face. “I mean you aided and abetted a rapist abusing scumbag attempting to separate his victim from the gentleman busting his ass to protect her from becoming a victim again. It has been verified, several times, that this asshole you’re accompanying has raped and abused her, both physically and emotionally. He is also guilty of numerous counts of violence against animals. I’m going to do you a favor, buddy. You can pick sides. You either accept you’ve made some pretty impressive mistakes and abandon your current course or you face every single charge I can concoct after I’m done painting the sidewalk with this bastard’s blood. Are we clear?”

Madelyn leaned towards me and whispered, “If she did that to me, I’d literally be pissing my pants right now.”

Aware she’d dealt with more abuse than I wanted to think about, I took care with massaging the back of her hand with my thumb. “I’m grateful that Daphne considers me to be a gentleman right now. We’re agreed. Daphne when pissed and denied a chance to kill terrorists is terrifying, and pissing one’s trousers is an acceptable course of action.”

“What proof do you have of this?” the reporter asked.

Daphne held out her hand and waited, and one of the Montana RPS agents handed her a few sheets of paper, which she held out to the reporter. “Take your time. We can wait for you to get a better understanding of the situation. One sheet is the New York court’s restraining order and confirmation of delivery. The other is a copy of California’s laws regarding abusers violating official court restraining orders. California honors restraining orders issued in New York—and everywhere else in the Royal States.”

Had anyone suggested a flaming horse could do the equivalent of tiptoe around a crowd and get within a length of an abusing asshole without getting caught doing it, I would have laughed. However, everyone’s attention locked on the reporter and Daphne, leaving my talent free to do as he wished.

He wished to secure an ambushing position behind Madelyn’s ex. I’d been around horses often enough to recognize his body language.

Her abuser was about to get a taste of flaming hooves, and if my guess was correct, he fully intended to spin and lash out with his hind hooves to do the most damage in the least amount of time.

A flesh and blood horse could kill a man with a single hoof to the head, and my talent had conjured a horse far larger than the norm. A dinner plate backed by well over a thousand pounds of angry animal could do a lot of harm—and I had no idea how my talent worked. Would the horse’s flame incinerate on contact? Would my rogue metalweaving conjure physical force to handle the man’s demise that way?

We’d find out soon enough.

“He told me that a royal kidnapped his wife.”

Madelyn stiffened, and I didn’t need empathy to spot the terror in her eyes and etched into her expression.

The stench of sulfur wafted over the steps along with a wave of heat, and my flaming horse took on an appearance of molten stone with dark splotches of cooling lava along his sides. With a squeal, he spun, bucked, and lashed out with both hind hooves. The first struck his head with a crackling sizzle. The second clipped his shoulder hard enough to slam him into the old beater. The putrid odor of melting metal and charring flesh burned my nose. Before I could do more than snort and sneeze, the ashen husk of Madelyn’s abuser collapsed while the vehicle beside him melted to the sidewalk.

The reporter gasped and jerked away from the trashed car.

“Ian,” Daphne complained. “Couldn’t you have controlled yourself for five whole seconds?”

“No,” I answered, wondering why she thought I’d let some abusive nitwit call Madelyn his wife and get away with it. “He scared her.”

“By scared, His Royal Highness means that your comment almost terrified the life out of her,” Terry stated, and he abandoned his post to join Daphne. With a single clearing of his throat, the RPS agent managed to send Montana’s heir retreating up the steps to relative safety. “Here is the one and only offer we’re willing to give you. You will testify, under oath and with a truth seer, how this piece of filth contacted you. No charges will be pressed, but you will not be working as a reporter in this kingdom any further due to your failure to vet the situation. California does not treat those who aid and abet abusers well. Frankly, it’s a better offer than you deserve.” Terry regarded the car I’d destroyed and my horse, who maintained its molten form, with a raised brow. “You will find the current generation of New Yorkers do not take kindly to those who hurt others. I recommend that you leave while you can—and accept the loss of your car as an unfortunate consequence of having made poor choices.”

Terry waited, and the reporter gulped before nodding.

Then, because few men could match Terry’s level when he had a grudge and a point to prove, he took the papers out of the reporter’s hand, rolled them up, and used them to lift the man’s chin. “You could have cost a lovely woman her life and a prince his choice of bride, all because you wanted a story. You shame everything reporters stand for. I hope you think long and hard about your choices and consider ways you might redeem yourself. Fortunately for the woman, the prince has zero issues with eliminating those who would hurt others. I’m even going to be generous and suggest that the RPS take you home. Hopefully that way, you’ll refrain from engaging in any additional activities with questionable people.” Terry glanced in the direction of the corpse. “Laws exist for a reason. Had he obeyed them, he would still be alive.”

One of California’s RPS agents summoned a vehicle, which entered the public lot moments later, pulled up, and came to a halt. The agent opened the back door for the disgraced reporter, waited for him to climb inside, and joined him in the vehicle, leaving us to deal with the smoldering body.

I heaved a sigh, regarding my handiwork with resignation. My conjured horse of flame and molten stone prodded what remained of him with a hoof. The corpse crumbled away to nothing but smoking clothes and personal articles.

“The lava part of that is new,” my sister observed. “But otherwise, it’s very much like the recordings from the incident at the airstrip. I want to learn how to do that. Can you ride him?”

“Did you check to see if he was a stallion?” I grinned at my sister, grateful she’d found some way to keep the conversation light.

One day, I hoped I wouldn’t have to strike first and ask questions of the body. Dead was dead, but in the case of the abusive bastard, I would sleep without regrets.

Terry was right: had he obeyed the laws, both of New York and of California, he wouldn’t have died at anyone’s hand for his crimes.

“I really did. He’s like Thunder, but he’s a lot larger and meaner.”

“I got frightened,” Madelyn confessed. “And that’s when the horse kicked his head clean off.”

Well, to my regret, the head hadn’t gone flying, but it was close enough I opted against correcting the exaggeration. Dead was dead, and the first strike had done an excellent job of killing the bastard. I whistled for the horse, who came up the steps and sought out my attention. As his head hadn’t charred me to a crisp, I took the time to offer the horse the petting he was rightfully owed, ignoring how my talent was an inseparable part of myself. If there was even a scrap of sentience within my magic, I wanted him to understand I appreciated his work.

Then, with a second, softer whistle, I reined him in, the flames and stone dissolving away to embers on the wind. As though aware they could start the wrong kind of fire, the wisps of light and warmth swirled around me before winking out one by one. “Let’s go get some ice cream. That way, no one can judge me for sticking my head into the freezer for a few minutes. After ice cream, I think I deserve to be tucked into bed with every kitty I can get my hands on.”

With a little luck, I’d be able to lure Madelyn into bed with me, but I’d wait for her leisure. If I had any say in it, we would have nothing but time.

For once, having patience would be a joy, and I looked forward to whatever would come, taking it one day at a time.