Page 117 of Iron Unicorn

“She really did. She caught you licking your lips, Terry. While staring at my chest.”

“We were at a wedding. I was trying to be tolerably decent. Clearly, I failed, as there is photographic evidence of my appreciation of that dress. Please tell me you kept it.”

I would enjoy taking her out of it after spending many an hour appreciating her while in it.

“I still have the dress.”

“Excellent. As it seems I need to be blunt with you, Princess Olivia, this bathroom is a no clothing zone. Enter at your own risk. It seems you need some general education we can begin in the tub.”

“Tell me more,” she ordered.

“Oh, no. I will not be telling you anything. This will be hands on education, but we can discuss the finer points afterwards. Have you gotten the hint yet?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I do believe I have.”

Epilogue: the thought of having a filly named Iron Peony amused me.

Olivia heldme hostage in the suite for a week, only letting me out for a few hours a day to visit the horses, which had been transferred to a nearby royal ranch. The evening of the seventh day, my queen reached out and requested that we make ourselves available to go to Maine.

Jane had recovered sufficiently to be able to meet her new pony and begin living at her temporary home away from home with her parents. She still required daily trips to the hospital, but it was a problem her parents were happy to have.

Day by day, the little girl recovered, and soon, she would be doing everything children did rather than sit in a wheelchair and wait to die.

I regarded my queen’s text messages, which were a mix of tentative and authoritative. Smiling, I said, “Olivia, my queen wants us to go see Jane. Are you ready to release me from custody so I can drive the trailer with our horses?”

With help from Wes, all but twelve of our horses had headed to New York, leaving me with the two foals, my mares, my yearling, Willow, Would Rather Be Paying Taxes, Your Mileage May Vary, and the four Standardbreds.

My yearling’s DNA results had come back as amber champagne, and if she had lacked the champagne gene, she would have been a grullo. I’d already received several calls from the previous owner upon updating my angel’s registry information with her color genetics inquiring if I would sell her back.

I’d enjoyed citing horse empathy and claiming her as my bonded horse.

I expected to officiate her name as Iron Angel, changing her registered name to erase the evidence of idiocy from her record. To further add insult to injury, I intended on showing Angel, scoring her a championship, and breeding her with Willow to secure my line’s legacy.

I refused to listen to anyone claiming Willow was legacy enough.

All my RPS horses were part of the Iron line, with Iron Willow being the first. Generally, I liked using their barn names as their registered name whenever possible, but Willow had enough sons and daughters that I’d taken to randomly selecting words out of the dictionary to name them.

If I got a filly from Angel and Willow, I would be naming her Peony, as the thought of having a filly named Iron Peony amused me.

Olivia finished reading her page before looking up at me from her place on the couch. “I could be persuaded. Will we be taking them to Maine with us?”

“If I can get clearance to, yes. Otherwise, we’ll stop off at the New York palace, drop them off, and blitz to Maine. I doubt we can get Wes and the plane here. Even if he has the plane, he only has six stalls. I also don’t want to impose on the Texans after breaking their palace.”

The hotel still hosted most of the staff who lived at the palace along with the royal family, as it was estimated to take three weeks, at a minimum, to repair the damage I’d done.

“I’ll call my brother and see if they have the bigger plane available.”

I blinked. “There’s a bigger plane?”

“It has thirty stalls, and it’s our primary horse freighter. Daphne gets upset when she isn’t the one flying the horses, and it’s often overseas helping haul rare breeds. If it’s in the Royal States, I’m sure we can get ahold of it. Your babies are priceless.”

Yes, they were. “And I’d rather not stress the Standardbreds.”

The vet bills would drive me insane, but day by day, the three sored horses improved, and my little lady tried to teach the other horses how to walk properly. It would be a while before the lot could be set free in a pasture, but it would happen in time.

“I’ll call.” Olivia tossed the e-reader I’d gotten her aside, picked up her phone, and scrolled through her contacts before placing a call. “Hey, Wes. Is the big cargo plane available? Rachel wants Terry in Maine, and Terry doesn’t want to leave his babies behind. We’ve got twelve babies to transport, two of which are actually babies.” The princess listened for a moment, and she laughed. “Bill my brother and tell him I’m holding Terry for ransom. If Rachel wants Terry back, Wes will transport our horses to Maine before hauling us to New York. And don’t tell Rachel I said that. She’ll subject me to the lip.”

I grinned at the reality of my queen reining us both in with the power of the lip.

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