Page 1 of Iron Unicorn

ONE

The last thing I needed was to go even more blind.

While I often traveled toTexas as part of my work, I lacked a single memory of journeying to Houston. To further complicate matters, I’d somehow dressed in someone else’s suit. I certainly wouldn’t have worn an Armani while wandering around the downtown of any city. Under no circumstances would I have worn an Armani unless my queen had demanded it of me—and only if she’d unleashed the power of her trembling lip.

Queen Rachel of New York, upon learning she could manipulate people with the threat of tears, had developed a ruthless inclination to use her powers for evil. And everyone, from the RPS agents dedicated to protecting her to her family, fell for it every time.

While I could see her forcing me into an Armani, she wouldn’t have dumped me in Houston alone. Not my queen.

Well, not without a good reason or her king talking her into it first. As King Ethan went out of his way to make sure her detail stuck close, the last thing he would have done was ship me off to Houston in a way I failed to remember.

He took the methodical approach with all his plans.

However, as my queen learned to be more assertive, I could see her working to visit Texas. She adored King Patrick’s cooking, resulting in a steady stream of possible excuses to go visit. As His Royal Majesty lived in Dallas and not Houston, she would have arranged for me to show up where she might enjoy Texan barbecue at its finest. Over the months, she’d gotten better at handling separation from me, although I hadn’t been pleased with her appearance near the end of my last foreign assignment, where I’d been tasked with safeguarding the Vampire of Montana.

Upon hearing about Daphne’s episode, she’d made the journey over, just in case she needed to reduce someone to a pile of ash. Fortunately for my sanity, my queen had stayed in the relative safety of a nearby hotel, ghosting my trail without Daphne being aware of the situation.

The future Queen of Montana already showed signs of adapting well to her new role, but the trip, quite possibly her last taste of true freedom, had been a necessary risk.

Daphne had needed the time to come to terms with her changing role, settle with her future husband and king, and accept she wouldn’t be hunting nearly as many terrorists as she would like. I expected Montana to send Prince Adam and Princess Mireya to Texas permanently the instant Deidre accepted she would wear a crown, not in Europe, but within the Royal States. Everyone waited with bated breath, keeping an eye on the man who’d become her king.

I gave it six months at most before one of them broke and their bond became public knowledge. Every sign existed in her future king, and day by day, he proved himself equal to the pressure of expectations. On second thought, if my queen had caught wind of some rumor involving Deidre and the man who’d become her king, I could understand why I’d somehow arrived in Houston.

She would have some damned scenario run on me with the goal of dumping me in Houston if it meant she could go rescue someone, especially a princess rumored to be on a crash course with an unhappy marriage while the true love of her life headed to California to serve their royal family.

Rumors of Eddie being sent to California had rippled through the upper echelons of the RPS; if the young mandidventure from Texas to California, everyone would be on guard.

Should something happen to Eddie, the odds were high that the Texan princess would share his fate—and nobody wanted to see how King Patrick and Queen Jessica would react to losing two children at one time. How Eddie would end up in California remained a mystery, but it was a mystery that worried most in the RPS.

I foresaw a great many disasters in my future, and my inexplicable relocation to Houston barely blipped on the radar.

The how of it continued to evade me, but someone had stolen my contacts, replacing them with a pair of transitioning glasses. Considering the heat of the Texan sun, I appreciated the consideration.

The last thing I needed was to go even more blind.

The glasses were an issue, however. Someone who knew me—or had my employment record—would know I wore glasses and had since I’d turned seventeen. I doubted my queen realized I couldn’t hit the blind side of a barn without my contacts or glasses. King Ethan had likely checked my record, noted I needed glasses, and knew my prescription. Knowing him and his determination to protect my queen, he had spare contacts and glasses for me in his office in case something happened.

In my entire time serving in the RPS, nothing had happened involving my contacts. Limited people in the New York RPS knew or cared; all agents with prescriptions wore the same type of contacts.

They were special made, boasted magic to keep them from falling out, and remained hydrated for however long I needed to wear them, even if it meant I ran on one pair for three months without taking them out.

I’d gone six months on a pair once, which was their general lifespan before I needed to replace them.

They cost too damned much to waste, and if the magic let me wear them without having to take them out or even noticing they were present, I’d wear them. In reality, the RPS compensated for the contacts, but I often forgot to file the appropriate paperwork.

I only wore glasses when on vacation, something I hadn’t done since first being assigned to protect one Rachel Ambrose.

While I couldn’t eliminate my queen as a possibility in my appearance in Houston, I had other possibilities to consider, most of them originating in Montana.

On second thought, focusing on the how of the situation would serve me a great deal more than worrying about the why. Coming to my senses in a shady park near Houston’s downtown core puzzled me, especially as the park had lacked any other signs of life for a solid ten minutes.

Even the birds and the bees had cleared out, leading me to believe someone with a powerful talent had encouraged everyone to wander off. His Royal Majesty of Montana could have pulled off the trick with ease. The Vampire of Montana could as well, although she had a lot to learn about controlling her newly discovered talent. Perhaps her family had done too good of a job of reining in their talent and burying it in fear of hurting others.

When she’d discovered her talent, she’d been so convinced her cousin had perished that she’d spiraled directly into the sort of grief I wished on nobody.

It’d taken His Royal Majesty showing up to knock sense back into her.

I would treasure the pictures I’d taken of my friend’s astonishment when she realized I hadn’t been hallucinating about her cousin’s status as alive and well. The second breakdown had been easier to tolerate, although she’d alarmed everyone with the strength of her emotions.

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