Page 4

FOUR

“Am I up for my execution?”

Dr. Stanton ran me through every machine the hospital had, including subjecting me to an MRI. She wanted to get a complete snapshot of my general health. According to her, if I was in better shape than my sister during her first run through the testing gauntlet, she’d be happy.

Six hours later, the woman entered the room I’d been stashed in armed with a clipboard. Then, in what I believed was some horrific blend of dream and nightmare, Madelyn followed her.

Rather than question Dr. Stanton on the situation or flee through the nearest window, I stood my ground, rather grateful someone had found a suit for me to change into. “Am I up for my execution?”

Dr. Stanton snickered, shook her head, and tossed her clipboard onto the bed. Rather than yell at me, she came over and gave me a hug. “You have a mild concussion from where you got knocked out, but other than that, you are in good health. I almost cried while reviewing the results. There are a few things I want to monitor, and I’ve selected Miss Chalro to handle managing your diet and exercise for the next few weeks. Agent Niell was generous enough to give me the names of everyone who would be accompanying you to California, and her assigned duties worked best for my needs. With her in charge of your general care, I can manage my other duties without worry.”

Madelyn was going to be accompanying me to California? As I was in possession of some remnants of my dignity, I hugged the doctor back rather than spin her around to express my opinion on the situation. “I apologize for the inconvenience, Miss Chalro.”

When the woman wrinkled her nose, she reminded me of a puppy learning how to convey disapproval of the situation. Had anyone tried to convince me that plain could be beautiful as a teenager, I would have laughed.

With Madelyn, I understood. Like Olivia before her operation, the New Yorker’s features weren’t quite even, with one of her eyes slightly off angle compared to the other. Like Olivia, the woman had something wrong with her nose, but I had no way of knowing if it hampered her breathing.

If she was part of the New York team headed to California, I could take the initiative and make certain someone evaluated if she needed care like the Montana princess had required. I would pay for the operation myself if necessary.

Her prominent jaw—which showed more than I liked due to society’s insistence that being skinny equated to beauty—gave her a sharp edge, one that screamed no one was to approach if they valued their life.

“Madelyn, please.”

“Ian. I have an allergy to titles. I develop hives. Isn’t that right, Dr. Stanton?”

Dr. Stanton snickered, patted my back, and let me go. “Only use titles when he’s in an official capacity, as the allergy to titles is real. It gives him quite the upset tummy.”

“I thought that was the wine the chefs like adding to meals,” the woman of my dreams muttered in a rather doubtful tone.

I wouldn’t blame her for her doubts. In her shoes, I would be doubtful, too.

Few believed I could possibly actually suffer from alcohol intolerance.

“Ah, yes. The alcohol intolerance is going to be a significant issue. His intolerance is even worse than his sister’s. That’s something you’re going to have to be on guard for. If he gets a hold of alcohol in his food, he has a five minute window to purge it before he absorbs enough for it to be a problem. If he drinks alcohol, it’s over the instant it enters his mouth. If you notice a contamination or taste it, get him to the bathroom and induce vomiting, then have him consume water. It might help, but it’s unlikely.”

Madelyn’s eyes widened. “That’s real? He really can’t have any alcohol?”

Dr. Stanton sighed. “Unfortunately. And his intolerance is quite severe. It usually begins with vomiting, which can last three to six hours. Afterwards, he has to be put on a basic diet of bone broth until he can keep that down. After he’s rehydrated, he’s to have milk-based protein shakes. After twenty-four hours, he can resume eating regular food. Unfortunately, when he’s on diplomatic missions, he rarely has the required twenty-four hours, so he takes anti-nausea medicine and does his best to cope.”

Madelyn’s eyes narrowed. “And the chefs include the wine knowing this?”

“Most chefs do not realize the intolerance is real and that there’s enough alcohol left in the food after cooking for it to be a problem.” Retrieving her clipboard, Dr. Stanton flipped through the pages, removed one, and offered it to Madelyn. “We’re still trying to identify why he gets so ill from alcohol, but here’s what we’ve learned so far. His sister’s case is one step below his, and the New York chefs make certain to keep a set of pots and pans dedicated for their usage if there’s going to be alcohol served in the rest of the meals. While he’s in New York, you won’t have to worry about contamination; all new kitchen staff are read the riot act. California is aware of the situation, and New York will be providing a care sheet for his meals. However, it wouldn’t go amiss for you to step into the kitchen and remind them he cannot have even trace amounts of alcohol.”

“I can do that. I’m going to need a complete list of his dietary restrictions. I had thought it was personal preference.” Madelyn frowned and glanced my way before saying, “And as far as personal preferences go, choosing not to be a New York alcoholic is admirable.”

“I had opted against New York alcoholism before learning I’m intolerant to alcohol. The royal physicians couldn’t figure out why I was getting so ill daily, and it wasn’t until they eliminated meals cooked in the royal kitchens that they realized it was due to the usage of alcohol in cooking.” I had spent most of my early childhood, teenage years, and young adult life sicker than hell, relying on Pepto and stubbornness to get through most days. When I had learned the truth of my situation, I’d taken steps to avoid any foods that might have wine in them, which had lowered instances of illness significantly. “Dr. Stanton can get a copy of my medical history and share it with you.”

“Yes, I have a copy. It will likely make you angry, but as Ian has given me permission, I’ll share the records with you. For the most part, he’s easy enough to handle. If he seems skittish around the royal offerings or doesn’t seem to be eating, take him to a fast food joint.” Dr. Stanton winced. “May none of the other royal physicians find out I said this, but fed is best, and with these delicate New York royals, the fastest way to feed them is to give them fast food.”

“We were beat for even looking at fast food as kids,” I informed Madelyn. “It’s the ultimate forbidden fruit for us.”

I’d gotten more than my fair share of the beatings, thus preventing Rachel from enduring them. Because I’d dealt with my father’s heavy hand, Rachel had been able to walk the straight and narrow.

It hadn’t spared her from abuse, but it had spared her from the worst of the abuse.

“You’re serious.”

“The previous New York monarchs were not ideal people, and both Ian and his sister have done quite well with their therapy. We can get together before you leave for California to give you a better idea of the things to watch out for. For the most part, Ian’s one of the easier Royals to work with. As he is New York’s heir, you’ll have support from California. I’ll give you a list of suitable contacts. For today, keep him company while I get the documentation to release him. I’ll request that the palace open a suite for you until departure and help you take care of any business you have.”

“I have two cats,” Madelyn murmured.

“The more the merrier. We’ll warn the Californians you’ll be bringing your pets with you. Prince Ian likes all animals, and you will have no difficulties containing him with offers of petting and playing with your cats.”

While Dr. Stanton cheated, as she cheated on my behalf, I opted against complaining. Sighing, I said, “It’s true. I lost any right to protest when I got caught playing with my sister’s tigers.”

My sister had gone into a meeting with Ethan, the tigers had been sleeping in one of the palace lounges, and I’d been reading a book, keeping an eye on the beasts, knowing they’d become anxious if they woke up alone. Rather than interrupt my sister’s meetings, I’d indulged in petting them, reading a story to them, and otherwise playing with them.

“I can lure them away if you want to play with my sister’s tigers,” I informed Madelyn, hoping the gamble wouldn’t bite me in the ass later. “But you’ll have to read them a story, possibly several. Sometimes, they like chapter books, but sometimes, they want someone to read picture books to them. After story time, you have to help them put together a puzzle.”

Madelyn’s eyes widened, and she stared at Dr. Stanton. “Is he serious?”

“He is. I’ll make certain the queen knows her tigers have been scheduled for story time. It’ll be a good activity for Ian while he recovers. Are you available tomorrow?”

“I am.”

“Excellent. Keep Ian company while I get the paperwork handled, and then I’ll go back to the palace with you and notify the monarchs of the schedule. Ian, I want you to drink more fluids moving forward, by the way. While you aren’t technically dehydrated, your numbers could be improved a little, and I think it’s from not getting enough fluids.”

As arguing with the woman would lose me far more than I would gain, I nodded. “I’ll try to do better.”

“That’s all I can ask of you. Figure out what you’d like for dinner, and I’ll make sure you get it.”

“Beef stew, no alcohol,” I requested. “Extra potatoes, fresh bread. The chewy bread that requires me to earn exercise minutes just to eat it.”

Dr. Stanton laughed. “I’ll put in the request and make sure you get some beef stew that won’t attempt to kill you. Anything else?”

“Painkillers.”

“I think I can manage something like that. Madelyn, if he becomes incoherent, has trouble holding a conversation, or seems to be suffering from any form of impairment, text me, and I’ll come in to check on him. Expect me to take another hour convincing the busybodies he’s safe to discharge. The palace will be the best place for him, and the New York royal physicians can take turns making sure he’s all right. Just keep an eye on him. Engage him in conversation. Test his general knowledge or something. You’re a smart woman. I’m sure you can figure something out.”

* * *

Madelyn regarded me through narrowed eyes, and after twenty minutes of rapid questioning, I’d learned to fear the expression.

The woman wanted to crush me, and she meant to do so using her endless knowledge and curiosity. To my dismay, I had no way of knowing if she questioned me to learn more or wanted to prove she was just as smart and educated as a New York Royal.

“What is a limnic eruption?” she asked, and the demand in her tone almost made me laugh.

Laughing would not aid my cause. It hadn’t aided my cause the first three times I’d failed to contain my amusement at her enthusiasm over being able to grill me.

“Are we going for the short or long version?” I asked, having clued in the woman would get irritated if I spent twenty minutes explaining a basic concept to her when queried.

It wasn’t my fault I found certain subjects to be fascinating, and when questioned about one of those subjects, I would talk until told to stop.

Natural disasters intrigued me. I counted as a walking disaster, and I liked studying my more natural brethren, nature at its worst—and its best.

“I will give you ten minutes to discuss limnic eruptions.”

I suspected she wanted to learn more about the various ways the planet tried to eliminate humanity and was willing to use me as the vessel for her education. In good news for me, I enjoyed studying about the insane ways the Earth killed people. “When carbon dioxide gathers in deep water, and the water is disturbed, it can violently rise to the surface as a lethal gas cloud. This cloud can instantly kill any life unfortunate enough to be exposed. These eruptions tend to happen in volcanic lakes, which tend to meet the criteria for carbon dioxide saturation in the water.” As the floor had more space, we’d stolen the pillows from the bed and sat there. I gestured to Madelyn’s purse. “Imagine the top is the lake surface, the lake itself is the inside of your purse, and the floor is a magma chamber deep within the Earth. The carbon dioxide rises from the magma chamber, saturates the deep waters of the lake, where it gathers until the water is disturbed, usually through something like an earthquake or a landslide.”

Then, as I suspected she harbored a morbid curiosity much like mine, I added, “In the kingdom of Cameroon, they had several of these eruptions. The worst one happened at Lake Nyos, and it killed over a thousand people and even more livestock. In the aftermath, numerous people suicided upon discovery that their loved ones had perished. Not even magic could save anyone there; airweavers couldn’t react in time to prevent the disaster. They had no warning. The cloud of carbon dioxide burst out of the lake and engulfed the nearby village. The disaster ended as quickly as it had begun, but not without huge costs to the region. After the eruption, airweavers and waveweavers began monitoring the lake to disperse the carbon dioxide before it could accumulate and take more lives. The Cameroon royals have invested in a mechanical dispersion system, but waveweavers and airweavers check every three months due to the activity in the magma chamber below the lake.” I paused and added, “The volcano below the crater lake is currently deemed inactive, and I don’t know if it might wake up again. I’m of the opinion it can, especially as that magma chamber is hard at work trying to add victims to its tally.”

“That is a wise opinion to hold, especially if this volcano is responsible for that limnic eruption.” Madelyn gestured at my latest prop, her purse. “How deep does the water need to be for the conditions for a limnic eruption to be met?”

“I’m honestly not sure, but I think Lake Nyos is over a thousand feet deep. It’s pretty wide, too. I haven’t done much research into how much carbon dioxide is required to kill someone. Obviously, humans require a set percentage of oxygen in the air to survive, and carbon dioxide is a natural byproduct of our existence. But I haven’t done much research into what specific percentage of carbon dioxide is lethal. I try not to give myself nightmares. The palace is armed with carbon monoxide detectors, and there have been a few instances where some have gone off. This unnerves me enough without contemplating how breathing out might kill me off.”

“That’s startlingly sensible coming from you,” Madelyn informed me. “Carbon monoxide has been an issue in the palace?”

As the incidents had happened at the beginning of my sister’s reign, resulting in Terry losing his mind and doing a complete overhaul of everything except the palace’s electrical system, I no longer held many worries about an incident. “We have a lot of gas-burning appliances in the palace, so there are a lot of sources of potential carbon monoxide. What Agent Niell could replace with safer appliances, he did. What couldn’t realistically be replaced, he has monitored with sensitive detectors. Each location has three detectors, each with a different threshold for carbon monoxide. The first two systems notify the RPS and the maintenance teams. The third one triggers the palace emergency alarms.”

“And he has these systems for every source of carbon monoxide?”

I nodded. “Don’t let Agent Niell fool you. Sure, he married into the Niell family, but he lives and breathes his work. Don’t tell him I said this, but I’m pretty sure he views my sister as his little sister at this point, and he’s a doting family man.” As Terry likely had his first little one on the way, judging from the behavior of his new wife, I expected his tendencies to mature over the next few months. “It would not surprise me if there’s a little prince or princess showing up in the next seven to eight months. Of the Montana variety.”

According to Dr. Stanton, my sister was almost healthy enough for her to be comfortable with the thought of an heir on the way.

Madelyn’s eyes widened, and she grinned. “But what of the New York variety?”

As the rumor mill already had run wild with my sister’s health progress, I saw no need to hide the truth. “I am quite hopeful I will have a little niece or nephew to dote upon within the next year or two.”

“The queen has improved that much? She was so ill when she came back to New York.”

I wished I could undo the damage my sister had endured, but I couldn’t. Rather than beat myself up over what I couldn’t change, I replied, “She’s been doing really well. I mean, I’m here because she tried to take me out like I’m one of her chocolate milkshakes. If it wasn’t for hitting my head, she probably could have kicked my ass at the mud run.”

“No, I don’t think so. Not yet. You were helping her a lot, although you were trying your best to hide the fact you were helping her.”

Crap. Madelyn had been watching us? “All right. I’m a little guilty of helping her, but she needs more confidence, and for the most part, I only helped when she was really struggling. I’m not afraid of heights like she is.”

“She turned ghost white when she got to the top of that net, so that I can believe. Had my brother done the course with me, he would have knocked me off just to hear me scream.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Madelyn. I have tossed my sister into the pool before, and I will toss her into the pool again. If it’s a body of water, I’ll chuck her in for the fun of it. However, it was obvious she was scared, and I didn’t want to frighten her further. I want her to be able to conquer the run, not develop a phobia to the net climb.” The net climb would be an issue moving forward, especially if my sister worried about someone getting hurt again. In good news, she hadn’t injured me on any of the actual obstacles, and I trusted Terry to improve the safety of the course to better handle rowdy royals in the mood to play. “Now, if you decide to challenge me to that mud run, I will not make any promises that I won’t toss you into the mud, but I will do so in a safe fashion. If you’re scared of the net climb, I’ll throw you from a lower height.”

“How considerate of you.”

I allowed myself a grin. “If you ask, I’d be game to do a timed cooperative run. As we would be trying to defeat the clock, I wouldn’t want to lose precious seconds throwing you into the mud. I save that for when I’m competing against someone.”

“But especially your sister.”

I nodded. “And she got the last laugh on that one. She’s going to be freaking out about this for weeks, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she panics at the thought of me flying anywhere when my brain might escape out of my skull.”

“Is it possible for that to happen to your brain?”

I shook my head. “Not with this level of concussion. If it’s anything like normal, I’ll be monitored for talent usage for the next day, and if there’s no difference in my magic, I’ll avoid using my computer for a few days, get someone to drive me around, and take it easy. I’ll have to wait for doctor’s clearance to drive. There’s a chance I might pass out from the concussion, have a dizzy spell, and so on.” Between the medication Dr. Stanton had given me and her magic, I would dodge a headache for a few hours. I expected a doozy of one would start right around bedtime. With luck, Dr. Stanton would take pity on me.

She might not if she felt I earned the headache.

“Is it your first time having a concussion?”

“I wish I could say it is, but it’s really not.” Over the years, I had bumped my head more than a few times. Of all the incidents, I could think of one that might amuse Madelyn. “When I was a teen, King Patrick of Texas gave me a horse and taught me how to ride. I didn’t know how much I loved horses until then, but my first ride on my new horse did not go precisely well. I was sick with some cold or flu, and I got on, but rather than stay on my poor horse, I toppled right off the other side and landed right on my head. Since I’m a New Yorker, I just jostled the rocks in my brain around. After making sure I wasn’t going to die from the incident, he helped me get on with a little more success the second time.”

As hoped for, the woman giggled. “You just toppled right off the other side?”

“I really did. Went up, over, and kept on going over until I landed right on my head. King Patrick looked underneath my horse and asked if I was all right. Rather than say yes, I tried to dig into the sand. I was sick enough I might have shed a few tears because I hadn’t wanted to fall off, and I hated looking stupid in front of the Texan royals.”

“Were you afraid of how your parents would react?’

The softness of Madelyn’s tone startled me, and I stared at her. “I mean, had it been in New York, it wouldn’t have ended well for my ass. I might have injured the horse. Honestly, Pat told me I didn’t need to worry and that everybody falls, but normally, people managed to sit in the saddle a little first.” I smiled at the memory. “I learned to get back up right away, and it was one of the most important lessons in my life.”

While I hadn’t gotten the important life lessons from my parents, the Texan monarchs had tried—and in some ways, they had succeeded. The years and bitter experience had cemented my determination to buck the trend of being a New Yorker. After meeting Madelyn, I’d stopped participating in the charity auctions, and I’d distanced myself from most single women.

I wanted what so many of my friends had won for themselves, a love that would last through any trial.

Could I have such a thing with Madelyn? I wanted to find out, but I feared the truth would become a mountain neither of us could climb. Our ranks alone would create problems. Fortunately for my sister, Ethan brought rank, wealth, and prestige with him. I could bring all that and more to Madelyn, but until someone else became New York’s heir, I would have to abide by the smothering laws in place. Either that, or my sister would have to bring change to our kingdom with the force of a wrecking ball.

She would, too.

“Is it true that the monarchs beat you?”

“My parents were not kind. Most of my brothers and sisters bent at the first sign of pressure from our parents. I took the hits so Rachel wouldn’t have to.” I sighed at the memories. “Well, as many of the hits I could. They had their way of punishing her, and in some ways, I feel they would have done less damage if they’d kept their discipline to leaving behind bruises.”

For the most part, they’d limited their beating to a few solid smacks across the ass or the face, but I’d pissed my father off enough a few times he’d left me barely able to move the next day. I’d learned to turn to better take the blows.

I’d also learned to dodge and escape being grabbed in the first place. In some ways, my antics had spared my siblings.

When my parents had been focused on me, they hadn’t been worrying about my siblings.

“I’m sorry.”

I nodded, accepting the intent behind the words. “They weren’t ideal people, and it got to the point even everyone outside of the palace realized it. The only thing I’m possibly at fault for was making the decision to take the brunt of it so others wouldn’t.”

“You antagonized them on purpose?”

I shrugged. “I’m technically the eldest of their children, but I’m not the eldest prince. I don’t know who my brother’s father is, and honestly, I don’t care. He doesn’t care, either. He just wanted to escape everything that is being a prince of New York. I gave my blessings for all my brothers and sisters to stay and go as they wished, promising they’d always have someone to go to if the going got tough. My sister did the same.”

It bothered me that all my older half-siblings had opted to disappear quietly from public life and New York, clearing the way for Rachel and me to take over. I hadn’t wanted the position of New York’s heir, but I also hadn’t wanted Rachel’s future child to be burdened with the role from an early age. As such, I’d accepted the responsibility.

Rachel worked hard to minimize how much I needed to do, allowing me to have a life outside of the palace.

In some ways, I’d squandered the opportunity.

“I’d wondered. Still, I’m sorry. That must be hard.”

“It hasn’t been easy. But Rachel’s doing better now, which is all I care about it.” Above all, I wanted my sister to be happy. I trusted Ethan to do his best. Of all the men I knew, the Californian was the only one I trusted with her.

Sometimes, I put on a show of doubting him, but I did it understanding I spurred him into showering my sister with the sort of love she deserved for the rest of her days. One day, Ethan would catch on to my trickery, but until he did, I would continue to scoff at him every rare now and again to enjoy the fireworks.

“You don’t mind being in her shadow?”

“Not at all. Until now, she had lived in everyone else’s shadow. New York will prosper with her holding the reins. That much I believe.”

“And you are New York’s crowned prince.”

I grinned at that. “Only until one of Rachel’s children is of age, and I’m certain Rachel will pick the next monarch based on who is best suited for the position rather than birth order. And I don’t doubt for a second that Rachel is better suited for ruling New York compared to me.”

“You don’t want to rule?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. Anyone who wants to rule a kingdom is quite possibly insane. It’s an incredible amount of work—work I have to be prepared to do at any time. And honestly, after this trip to California, I’ll be preparing to do my fair share of the work so my sister can take some time off with Ethan. I’m confident if I give those two time off, there will be a little nephew or niece on the way in a hurry. Then, in twenty years or so, I might have a chance of dodging any close encounters with the New York throne.”

Madelyn tilted her head to the side, regarded me through narrowed eyes, and then grinned. “If you could do anything at all, what would you do and why?”

“Do you mean career or just anything?”

“Both professionally and for entertainment purposes.”

The woman didn’t pull her punches, and I considered how I’d spent my entire life, wondering what it would be like to be just another person in the world. After some thought, I said, “You know those people who direct traffic at airports?”

“Air traffic controllers,” Madelyn replied.

“Yeah, them. I’d like to do something like that. Their job is important, and it helps people come and go anywhere they want safely. It’s an important job. I’d like to do something like that, something that has substance and meaning and does good for a lot of people. It also looks complicated, so I wouldn’t have time to get bored. Well, unless I was working at a small airport.” I braced myself for her disapproval. “That’s probably a little crazy.”

“Not at all. I never thought about it that way before. Doing something useful and important is a good goal. And you’re right about air traffic controllers having important jobs. I always thought it was magic how they coordinate all those planes at one time.”

“I bet I could get somebody to let us up there to watch how it works,” I muttered.

Madelyn raised a brow and stared me down. “Why would you?”

“It would be interesting, we’d learn something, and it would beat sitting around and waiting for the inevitable headache to go away.”

“Ah. Right. Your concussion will make it so you’re basically stuck at the palace for at least a few days.”

I nodded. “I’m hoping I’ll get approved to do some work at my shop, but if not, it can wait until I’m back from California.”

“What sort of work do you do at your shop? I’d heard rumors you have a business of some sort, but I didn’t look more into it than that.”

“I operate a junkyard,” I confessed. “I separate the different metals and melt them into weighed bars and resell them. I do a lot of recycling, especially of titanium, since titanium requires high and consistent heat to remelt. I can produce sufficient heat to melt titanium, and I pour that into molds. I use my flameweaving to temperature control the molds so the molten titanium doesn’t destroy them. I do have tungsten molds for use in barring titanium, but I practice my temperature refinements with different materials when I’m recycling metals. When I have a mixed metal batch, I melt out the metals one by one using their melting point to extract each metal. I can get some pretty pure metal groupings that way.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “You can melt titanium?”

“I can.”

“Doesn’t that have an insanely high melting point?”

I nodded. “It’s fairly high, but it’s not the top ten for melting points of metals and alloys. I can melt tungsten. That one melts at thirty-four hundred degrees.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Centigrade or Fahrenheit?”

“Centigrade,” I replied, amused she’d used the old term for Celsius. “Assuming you can get Dr. Stanton to clear me to work, there’s no reason you can’t accompany me to the yard and watch me work.”

“Maybe I should. You’ll surely cause someone trouble should you be left unattended.”

I eyed her, as I’d gone out of my way to stay out of trouble and not bother anyone ever since Rachel had returned to New York. “Why would you say that?”

“You are a prince, and by default, all princes are trouble.”

As I couldn’t dispute her point, I settled in to glare at her.

She smirked, and something about her expression warned me I would be the one troubled, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. The how of it I was certain I would discover soon enough.