Page 70 of Iron Unicorn

“I’ll make sure that Terry is not inappropriately used and abused. I make no promises they don’t lose all sense playing around during evasion scenarios, but they love that sort of thing, so it’ll be fun for them.”

“No more kidnappings, no more traumatizing of New York RPS agents, no more sicknesses, and no more operations,” Melody scolded before she stomped off to do whatever it was princesses did when at the end of their ropes and patience.

I chuckled. “She needs a break.” Grabbing my phone, I texted the Texan RPS with a warning that the Maine royal family likely needed some downtime and calming activities. The acknowledgment pleased me, and I returned my phone to my pocket. “Restaurant or room service for your steak, Olivia?”

“Restaurant. I’m so tired of room service I could scream.”

Regretting having put my phone away, I fetched it again and texted with a warning that the Montana princess was on the prowl and wished to make a public appearance at the best restaurant nearby with steak. I also requested that someone versed with the local area pick the place. “Then a restaurant it will be.” I regarded Montana’s king through narrowed eyes. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, please go back to work. This dinner is for a party of two.”

“Damn,” Daphne said before planting her hands on the king’s shoulders and shoving him away. “Nowthatis what I call establishing authority. Edward, we’re busting this joint before the Iron Unicorn shows us some of his tricks. And trust me when I say you donotwant to see any of his tricks. His are the things of nightmares.”

“Like yours aren’t?” the Brit asked, regarding my friend with interest.

To my relief, the lot of them left, heading to the elevator banks to return to their rooms. I stood my ground and waited for them to depart. “There was no way I was getting stuck with them in an elevator, Olivia.”

“Good call.”

* * *

Thanksto the restaurant’s dress code, I would get to wear a suit to dinner, and I basked in the glow of familiarity.

The suit was one of mine.

It wasn’t one of my work suits, and it amused me that someone had accessed my apartment to retrieve it. As Olivia lacked appropriate apparel, she needed to run a few errands while I relaxed in the room with a book.

It took me an hour to get dressed to my usual standards, after which I waited for the princess to conquer and dress herself up however she wanted. I expected she would fall prey to her usual habits, which involved her attempting to distract everyone from her face through using the rest of her body, which curved in all the right ways and had a tendency of driving most men a little crazy, myself included.

I liked to think I did a better job of hiding it than most.

My phone pinged, and I checked the display to discover Olivia had texted with a request I spare her from going upstairs in heels from hell she had known better than to buy but had anyway. I laughed, aware that the instant we finished dinner and escaped the restaurant she would be running around in bare feet. I replied with a promise I was on my way.

I filled my pockets with everything needed, grabbed the room key, and slipped it in a different pocket from my phone before leaving the room. The pair of RPS agents positioned in the hallway regarded me with open curiosity.

“I’ve been summoned. It seems Olivia would rather not battle the elevator while wearing heels,” I explained, checking to make certain the door had locked before heading to the elevators. The agents joined me. “I’ll try to keep her distracted if anyone starts staring at her.”

“We’re going to have three empaths in position at the restaurant. Two will be disguised as fellow diners, and one will be on open duty. We have a set of her suppressors on hand should there be any issues. They do not block empathy.”

“Prison suppressors?” If Olivia lost hold of her temper, the prison suppressors would be our best bet with her level of talent. While I didn’t want her to be shocked, if she melted down and began using her talent, a jolt and a nap would be best for everyone, her included.

“We still have the set on hand, and Her Royal Highness of Maine has authorized its usage on her if necessary,” the agent reported.

I needed to learn their names, and while we’d been introduced, it was lost in the blur of agents. If they found out I’d forgotten, they’d forgive me. It was easy to forget names when dealing with large teams.

As long as I could, at a glance, identify actual agents from imposters, all was well.

On the way down to the lobby, we discussed the basics of Olivia’s detail, how we wanted to handle any paparazzi, and contingencies in case her emotional health did not remain stable during the outing. If she did have an episode, most of the work would fall to me while the rest of the agents made certain she was unable to hurt anyone with her talents.

For the most part, the RPS worked to protect royals, but sometimes we stepped in to make certain there were no unfortunate accidents.

The elevator opened to chaos, which involved an entire herd of children, several fluffy ponies on lead lines, six service dogs, and a delighted Princess Olivia, who did as always when presented with kids: she introduced herself to each one, charming them as much as they charmed her.

Had the herd of little ones just arrived? Aware I would not be pulling her away from the crowd without a fight, I said, “Recent arrivals?”

“They showed up right after you emerged from the hotel room. There will be a charity event in the hotel tomorrow, and the children were invited along with their service animals. The ponies are part of a test, but we weren’t told more than that.”

“Has anyone recognized her?”

The agent nodded in the direction of the reception, and I realized the paparazzi had already made an appearance. “One of our agents intercepted the team and politely asked that the photos of Princess Olivia be held back until His Royal Majesty of Montana made his official statement regarding her surgery and recovery tomorrow. They have agreed.”

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