Page 39 of Iron Unicorn

He laughed at me. “If you think centipedes are bad, millipedes are real.”

“Absolutely not, Carl. No.”

“You could recommend some other creepy crawly. I mean, we need to scare you.”

What did he think he was doing? Comforting me? I gave it five minutes before the fancy watch on my wrist started squealing alarms as my heart rate skyrocketed. “What is scaring me going to accomplish?”

“It’s going to trick Princess Olivia into believing the scenario is real. Unlike when you were grabbed in New York, you never panicked. You were hit hard and fast; you never had a chance to react before Her Royal Highness had you down. You woke up in a calm environment, and while you were confused, you were neverafraid. Princess Olivia had no real reason to panic.”

Right. His Royal Majesty of Montana had made certain I’d been unconscious the entire time. “And a little concern, like now, would be what she expects because I would be waking up without her here.”

“Another reality we want, as we do believe she’s rather sensitive to your moods. Your end of the bond should open up upon officiation of the bond—and the open acceptance of it on both your parts.”

As I’d dealt with empaths daily, I understood the theory well enough. I would have the advantage as I would be prepared for the new feelings. Rather than just picking them up with my generalized talent, the feelings would be stronger—and I would have a harder time ignoring them. “I should be able to handle the load. My generalized empathy is strong enough I am able to block.”

“We do think you’re doing a solid job of blocking your bond with Princess Olivia. We think it’s subconscious because it’s an illicit bond. You, an RPS agent, bonded with a royal?” Carl threw his hand against his forehead and feigned fainting. “The scandal.”

Laughing beat sweating over the thought of centipedes, and I downed the rest of my coffee and held the cup out. “I’m going to need another one of these if you’re going to want me to deal with bugs, Carl. And you better have a therapist on hand, a device with Tetris on it, and one hell of an apology for making me deal with this.”

Carl hooked me up with another cup of coffee. “We’ll make sure we do our best to avoid PTSD. We’ll also get you booked in with a psychologist to help you cope with your phobia. The last thing we want is to trigger a literal heart attack.”

“Or a stroke.”

“If we thought you were at a high risk of either, we wouldn’t be doing the stress test in this fashion. You’ll be fine. In good news for you, they’ll have a sedative on hand, so if you do start freaking out more than any of us are comfortable with, we’ll knock you out.”

“You could avoid tormenting me with centipedes.”

“We could, but you’d have to tell us what other things you’re afraid of.”

Aware I would be teased for life over it, I sighed and said, “Crabs.”

His eyes widened. “Crabs?”

I grabbed my phone, cringed, and input a search for crustacean into a search engine and turned the display to face him. “These.”

“Crabs. You’re afraid ofcrabs?”

“You will never, ever see me stick my hand into a lobster tank—or go anywhere near one, not even for my queen. I won’t do it, Carl.”

“You’re afraid oflobster?”

“Let’s just say the Montana chefs know better than to put unshelled shrimp near me. I will leave, and I won’t come back.” For the most part, I dealt with my phobia well enough. Once the shrimp was cooked, I could handle it—unless someone expected me to shell the shrimp.

That was the point I fled.

“You’re afraid of shrimp.”

“They have too many legs.”

Carl lifted his hand, and then he narrowed his eyes at me. “What would you do if I threw unshelled shrimp at you?”

“Before or after I left in a hurry?” I sighed. “It’s not as bad if the shrimp is clearly dead. However, I will not show up for any event with hot pot. The shrimp still have their heads.”

“Crawdads?”

“They’re like lobster, so please keep that shit away from me.”

“What would you do if I set loose a bushel of live crabs near you?”

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