Page 15 of Iron Unicorn

“He gets to cook the day after tomorrow,” King Patrick corrected.

“That’s doing nothing in his twisted little RPS mind. It’s not work if he likes it, and while he’s not you, he does an admirable job in the kitchen.”

“That just leaves the problem of His Royal Majesty of Montana.”

“I will inform him that I have kidnapped his beloved sister. If he wants her back, he will have to come have dinner with us. We will then engage in a loud argument while wearing our suppressors over the situation, staged entirely for Olivia’s enjoyment.”

“She wants to roll him through the mud, I suspect,” I added.

Drugged ramblings weren’t to be taken seriously most of the time, but they often included hints of the truth.

“She suffered for an unfortunate time because Will undertook a quest to make people accept her as she is rather than address the underlying health problems. A little mud won’t hurt anyone. I have a hose and know how to use it.”

A rather curious King Patrick emerged from the kitchen. “A hose?”

“Garden variety,” she replied. “I could get a firehose easily enough, though. I will not be using my talent for this endeavor. It’s more fun this way.”

Shaking his head, the Texan king returned to making soup.

Sometimes, the only way to handle a Texan monarch was to go with their flow and hope for the best. “If you think it’s wise.”

“He’ll get over it and wallow a whole lot less upon finding out it was a medical issue this way. Yes, he’ll be upset, but he’s going to be upset because it never occurred to him that he was putting his sister’s life at risk the entire time. And yes, you can help set him straight. Sometimes, being a monarch can blind us to the obvious, especially when our loved ones are concerned. I have no doubt he meant the best for her, wanting to force everyone to stop looking only with their eyes. It didn’t help Olivia hid the severity. But it’s fixed, she’ll heal soon enough, and all will be well. You’ll see. Trust me.”

As I did trust the Texan queen, I kept my doubts to myself.

* * *

King Patrick didthe vast majority of work, abandoning me twenty minutes before it would be ready with a claim he had a starved princess next door to feed. The RPS agents left with the monarchs, and I sighed my relief over having some peace and quiet. As I counted as off duty, I removed my earpiece along with the wires hidden away in my suit, hunted through the room and found the chargers for everything, and made certain they would be ready to go at a moment’s notice. In the bedroom closet, I discovered an assortment of bags. Investigation uncovered someone had gone shopping for both of us, giving us a variety of casual clothes.

If I wanted to wear a suit, I was stuck with the Armani. A note in Queen Jessica’s handwriting informed me she would have the Armani—and every last one of my suits she could get her hands on—burned if I dared to wear one for the next week.

I settled on an armchair, monitored the time on my watch so I could tend to the soup, and considered the future.

Payback against the lovable Texan queen would come, and I’d work twice as hard to bag her and Olivia during my challenge. I’d even pull out some tricks I rarely used but would prove useful against the Texan queen’s abilities. Grounding her electric attacks would remove most of her arsenal.

The woman refused to use her other talents on RPS agents, and I would exploit her every hesitation to make the grab. Olivia’s talents would cause me problems, but I had ways of winning her cooperation.

I’d promise a new statuette for her, and I’d let her watch while I made it. The process fascinated her, and I could contain the princess with a few words.

Then I’d cuff her for the fun of it, as the woman loved the scenarios involving some rough treatment. The entire lot from Montana liked when we strutted our stuff and made things difficult for them. While she’d crack jokes over bruises marring her beauty, she’d be the most predictable of the elements.

The real problem would be King Patrick. I would need to strike when he was separated from his wife, and I’d have to make certain I got the queen and princess away from the children. Some of them would play the game. I might have an ally within the RPS, assuming I was willing to make use of him.

Anyone with a functioning pair of eyes understood Eddie was part of the Texan herd despite being part of the RPS. Grabbing my new phone, I thumbed to my contacts, which Queen Jessica had imported. Before I’d been assigned to my queen’s detail, I’d worked with Eddie on his empathy abilities, which were weird on a good day.

I suspected he suffered from hybridism, his talent struggling to function as a generalized empath while his heart focused on a single person. That the someone was the eldest Texan princess would cause everyone trouble eventually.

Those cards would come tumbling down soon enough.

Princess Deidre would need Eddie once the storm broke—and the RPS would need to be prepared when the pair’s true abilities woke.

I was of the opinion both suppressed their true strengths. Deidre wanted to be her own woman rather than a clone of her mother and father. In reality, she possessed the best both Queen Jessica and King Patrick had to offer with a hefty dose of stormweaving.

I’d tracked the weather where she went, and serenity followed her. She liked the rain, but she feared the thunder and lightning that would prove she was a chip off her mother’s block. She refused to acknowledge anything other than loving every horse to cross her path.

We all suspected she’d bonded with at least two of her animals, both given to her by her father.

When either animal, both old enough they could no longer be ridden, passed away, Eddie would be there for her.

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