Page 123 of The Rebel King

“The congresswoman who was with you in Antarctica?” Dad asks.

“The same, but she’s a senator now.”

“She’s a Democrat,” Dad says.

“She is. That should help peel off a few more Democratic voters.”

“Which we’ll need,” Lennix says. “Since Dentley’s shaping up to be the Dem’s front-runner.”

It’s galling that the candidate Lacy and Glenn work for will probably be on the ballot as the Democratic nominee come November.

“I have a few Republicans in mind for cabinet positions, too,” I say. “To possibly garner some Republican support and because I think they’ll do the job best.”

“Whole-team-of-rivals approach?”

“Since I’m not party-affiliated, they’re not necessarily my rivals. I’ll have the advantage of choosing the people best qualified for the job, not based on which party they’re from but on what they offer.”

“And we’ll get a few key endorsements lined up pretty quickly if Iowa pans out,” Lennix says, forking the crust off her apple pie and tasting the filling.

“I know Millicent will want to endorse you,” my mother says.

The three of us stare at her. That never occurred to me. I would never ask that of her.

Mom shrugs. “She told me she would, that she wanted to.”

Millie and I haven’t spoken much since I told her the truth about Gregory Keene’s death. I could have let her believe the tale Grim wove that we leaked to the press. He planted a trail of crumbs for the authorities to follow leading to Gregory Keene’s body and fingering him as Owen’s assassin. My name was nowhere near that trail, and neither was Lennix’s kidnapping. The picture that emerged was half-truth—a man with a promising future, driven to madness by his mother’s demise as a result of our failed health-care system. Grim is as meticulous about covering up murders as he is about committing them, apparently.

Only Grim and I were in that basement. Only he and I know he pulled that trigger. Even though Lennix must suspect, she never asked me to confirm. She knows I’m as protective of Grim as he is of me, so that’s a secret we’ll both take to our graves.

The narrative provided much-needed closure for the public, but Millie deserved the truth. I went to Connecticut to tell her in person. Sobs didn’t shake her body when I held her. There wasn’t a tempo to her grief, but the unnatural stillness of resignation, like her body was just taking up space in the world until she can actuallybehere again. The twins keep her going through the motions of life. They necessitate she show up, but if she’s anything like me, some days it feels like I’m watching myself smile, give speeches, interact with others—from this corner. Watching my body go through motions my soul isn’t ready for yet. Those days are fewer and farther between for me now, but if I lost Lennix, I would probably conduct the rest of my life from that dark corner.

“Millie’s in grief counseling,” Mom continues, flicking a glance between Dad and me. “Something you’d both benefit from.”

“I’ve been telling Maxim that,” Lennix says, shrugging when I look at her like she’s a sellout. “What? I have.”

“Well, we’re flying to Connecticut to see Millie and the twins tomorrow night,” Mom says. “Where are David and Grim spending Christmas, Maxim?”

“David’s with his family, though he’s complaining about it, and Grim…” I shake my head. “I’m not sure. He just said he’d see us after Christmas.”

“And the two of you are still flying to Arizona tomorrow?” Mom asks.

An edge filters into the air as soon as my mother saysArizona. That state, thatland, was the genesis of our journey. Not just mine and Nix’s but of her feud with my father.

“Yes,” Lennix says. “My dad and stepmom are there.”

“Yeah, well, we still have the morning.” I stand, hoping to defuse the tension. “Christmas breakfast at nine, Mom?”

“Um, yes,” she says, her voice pitching higher. She doesn’t want a fight tonight either.

Lennix sucks in a breath, stands, and, with my hand at her back, turns toward the hallway.

“Lennix,” Dad says, his voice commanding.

She goes still. So do I, tensed and ready to spring. She glances at him over her shoulder. “Yes?”

That single word hangs in the air, suspended in this fragile peace that one wrong move could shatter.

“I can’t very well take up the ones we’ve laid,” he says, his voice gruff and as close to apologetic as he’s probably capable of. “But…there won’t be any more Cade pipelines put on protected grounds.”

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