Page 14 of Iron Unicorn

After three hours in the recovery room, the doctors determined Olivia could run free. She would endure daily checkups, most of which would happen in the comfort of the hotel next door. With the right talents, medical equipment wasn’t needed, and the only time we’d go back to the hospital was if something went wrong and for the final medical scanning to make certain everything had healed properly in a week or two.

Magic had prevented the need for stitches, but she wore a strip of tape across her nose to serve as a tactile reminder she shouldn’t touch her face.

Without the medications driving her into a giggling frenzy, the princess went from boisterous to subdued. As I recognized the source of it, I offered my arm, let her lean on me, and promised she could take a nap as soon as we got to the room. The thought of a nap motivated her enough we made it the entire journey, something the doctors wanted her to do to make certain all the drugs had metabolized in her system properly.

She made it to the suite, which was a one bedroom monstrosity with a king sized bed, a soaking tub I foresaw the princess living in for the next week, and an entire kitchen. The kitchen thrilled me.

I could handle cooking without bringing shame to the New York RPS or Montana. Ingredients would be a call to the RPS away, and I’d be confident in their quality and safety. I’d never match King Patrick in the kitchen, but I could keep a princess fed without much difficulty.

Within five minutes of her finding the bed, Olivia passed out, still wearing her clothes. As she liked staying cozy warm, I took the time to tuck her in, made certain her head rested on the pillow rather than half off the bed, and confirmed her position wouldn’t result in her bumping her nose in her sleep.

The doctors and nurses had reassured us that the work would hold up against anything below a punch to the face, but I preferred against testing my luck.

Once certain she slept, I activated my mic and said, “She’s asleep.”

A few moments later, someone knocked, and I checked the door’s peep hole, chuckling at the collection of RPS agents ready to work. I let them in, and I raised a brow at the discovery Queen Jessica and King Patrick had come calling as well.

“Your Majesties,” I greeted.

“Ugh,” King Patrick groused before heading to the kitchen, armed with a pair of grocery bags. “Titles. Disgusting. Titles are unacceptable, Terry. Not today.”

Okay. I could tell when a monarch had reached the end of his rope, and King Patrick dangled from his line in dire need of some form of normalcy. “Would you prefer Pat, Patrick, sir, or something else?”

“Pat would be nice, and I’ll even go to bat against those pesky co-workers of yours in exchange for frequent reminders of my name. How is Olivia doing?”

“Well, she had a few eventful and amusing hours, and as delight and giggling is far better than pain and suffering, I’m of the opinion everything went rather well. The doctors and nurses did an excellent job at pain mitigation, and the extended monitoring was a wise precaution. I do feel a little guilty we took up the operating room and recovery room for so long, though.” I followed the king into the kitchen and went to work putting things away in the refrigerator, which had been stocked for a siege.

“It was planned for, and a nearby hospital was ready to take any overflow,” the king replied, plopping a large package of chicken onto the counter. “You’re getting chicken soup tonight per the doctor’s orders. You’re officially off duty, and Jessica and I are here to make sure the team is more robust while you’re taking a break. We’re going to visit the little lady down the hall and play at being diplomatic. In reality, I’m going to feed her after I’m done feeding you. Why do underfed scamps keep invading my kingdom? This is a travesty!”

“Terry is not underfed, Pat,” the queen stated in an exasperated tone. “He’s just had his brain rattled in his skull a little, and he’s done all the work he’s doing today. And Terry, I am sorry about the knock to the head, but we really needed to deal with that problem. Grabbing you was the only way we could make certain Olivia got on the move in a position where we could grab her. The same ploy would have worked with Daphne or Will, but the risk level would have been a lot higher—and we couldn’t do it with Will because he is delusional regarding the state of his sister’s nose.”

As Daphne still struggled with her newly discovered talents, nobody was willing to do anything that might set her off. That left me as the best choice. I acknowledged the situation with a nod. “I’m feeling rather underfed today, so yams and chicken would be appreciated. I’ll take soup as a starter, though.”

“Ha! Told you,” King Patrick crowed, and he resumed his work preparing soup. “Go entertain the wife in the sitting room, Terry. I know you can handle yourself in a kitchen, but you can fuss and be the king of the kitchen the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow, you’re scheduled to have yams and chicken for supper. There’ll be plenty of soup left over for breakfast and lunch.”

As I was not losing a chance to have his cooking, I went to the sitting room, selected one of the three armchairs as mine, and sat, stretching out my legs with a tired groan. “Thanks, Pat.”

“See? RPS agents can be taught, Jessica.”

“Terry is used to working with Rachel. She isn’t comfortable with formality all the time, and she’s scared of her title, the poor little dear. But I will accept that Terry is a wise man and understands if he plays at being starved, you will feed him.”

“That’s my job.”

Technically, the king’s job involved a great deal more than just feeding people and attending to his wife’s every need, but most RPS agents knew better than to remind the aging man of that. He thrived taking care of people, as did most empaths. “Jessica, is there anything else I should know?”

The queen grinned, plopped down onto one of the other armchairs, and joined me in stretching out. “Not particularly. Pat is still confused on why people like kidnapping so much, although he admits it was entertaining, except for that part where you got a concussion and bled. He needed to calm his old ass down after that.”

“Jessica,” the king complained. “There was a lot of blood, and we weren’t going in to hurt him.”

“That’s why we had Melody along for the ride. When you have someone as skilled as Terry as the target, you have to use the big guns to take him out. Daphne needed to work to get the jump on him. Daphne did great, although she worried herself something fierce over the blood, too. Once again, that’s why we had Melody on hand. You can subject Terry to a horse. He’s going to need one to keep up with Rachel, especially once she’s riding for therapy.”

My eyes widened at the thought of my queen participating in horseback riding. While riding did offer a lot of physical benefits, she still had a long way to go to become truly healthy. “Riding, Jessica?”

“We’ve sourced an excellent older school mare who will be perfect for Rachel. Her favorite pace is a meander, and she hasn’t thrown a rider in a decade. Your queen will be safe in the saddle, and it might be a while until she’s up for anything more than a meander. She’s also got a gentle trot, so even if Rachel gets a little energetic in the saddle, she should stay mounted. We’re going to give you a livelier mount. I know you Montana types get sad without your horses.”

“I still have my RPS horse.” Of course, my horse had spent most of the time in Montana serving as a stud, wasn’t really fit to ride anymore due to age, and would be a beloved pet in the years to come.

“Your RPS horse is set loose in the pastures with the mares every breeding season because he’s a reliable old stud who throws good-natured horses suitable for service in the RPS. He doesn’t even live in New York right now because you didn’t want to separate him from his herd,” the queen replied in a scolding tone. “As such, we’re getting you a good horse so you can strut your stuff and help teach Rachel. With that out of the way, I have put together your schedule for the next few days.” The queen made the motions of opening a piece of paper, cleared her throat, and said, “Nothing, nothing, and nothing. You’re to do absolutely nothing for the next few days. Become the master of laze.”

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