Page 111 of The Prince of New York

Thus far, the pair had revealed and dismantled three incursions into the palace, all somehow associated with the new terrorism group, without any assistance from the RPS. Isla would also be in attendance, although she would stay with the plane.

Isla would rip out her feathers if separated from me for more than a single day. She could handle a day. Any longer, and she became stressed beyond what was healthy. As such, the bird would accompany us.

In a twist that surprised me more than everyone else, I only shared an empathic bond with Thunder despite needing to accommodate an absurd number of animals reliant on me to keep them happy.

According to Madelyn, the animals had better sense than most people. In her opinion, where I went, peace and tranquility followed, and it made sense for everyone in the palace to flock around me, pets included.

I did my best to keep from disappointing her.

Jessica made a thoughtful sound. “I’ll talk to Dr. Stanton. Just bring Eddie back to us safe and sound, all right?”

“I’ll do my best,” I promised. “What we’re doing is dangerous, but it’s important—for all of us, but especially him. He needs this as much as I do.”

“One day, that boy will learn,” Pat muttered. “He never had anything to prove, not to us.”

That I believed. “It’s not you, Pat. The real person he needs to prove his worth to is himself. And this is the one mission he’s going on just for him and no one else. He knows Deidre is on the list, and if he doesn’t stop them and something happens to her, he’ll never forgive himself. He’s also convinced you’ll never forgive him.”

That much I’d figured out by the time I’d headed back to New York from California.

“That boy,” Pat complained. “As always, thank you, Ian. I’ll distract your sister and concoct excuses for you to need Terry. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

“Actually, yes. There is something you can do to help.”

“Oh?”

“I still need at least two Jutland mares. I have no Jutland mares, and Ineedthem. Thunder is an immaculately behaved stallion, but he’s still a stallion, and we have an entire barn full of mares, and I can’t breed him withanyof our mares.”

“Well, at least it’s a job I actually like. You’re just cranky you have to wait for Saoirse’s foals to make it into the world. Really, Ian, you didnotneed to keep every single embryo, and I really do not know how you got so damned lucky with the process. Why didn’t you stop at a sensible one or two?”

“I was told of the twelve, it was probable we might only get six. It’s not my fault that all twelve took on the first try. Twelve was the number I was told to aim for if I wanted six foals, and I wanted six foals. And you can’t pull a fast one on me, Pat. You’d take all twelve, too.”

“I’m not sure you’re ready to handle having twelve foals at the same time, boy. You’re going to be worse than any peacock, strutting around because you have twelve of your horse’s precious babies. And no, youcannotkeep the mothers. I’m putting my foot down on that. If you keep the mothers, you’ll be filling your sister’s pastures with every horse you can get your hands on. As it is, you’re going to have to picksometo live at the farm outside of the city. I recommend that you send your studs off to the farm and keep the mares. Thunder is behaved enough to stay at the palace, but it’s a lot of work cultivating a great stallion.”

Saoirse’s line had dwindled enough that the three expected colts would be kept intact unless they had a behavioral problem that couldn’t be overcome with good training, patience, and care. “I still am not sure how his line got to be so valuable.”

“Misfortune,” Pat replied. “A barn fire killed most of his line. That you got twelve breedings done from a limited line grouping means there’s a solid chance for diversity later. And that you got mostly fillies is excellent. Anyway, I’ll worry about sourcing you some Jutlands. You eliminate those monsters and come back home so you can get on with the rest of your life.”

* * *

Cambodia sucked.Had I known we would need to hack our way through some of the densest jungles the kingdom had to offer, I would have paid off some mercenaries to give my parents a rather ignoble death. As it was, they would not be getting any glory or honor or fanfare from me. They’d be charred husks, and I would retrieve their ashes and quietly inter them in the palace mausoleum—assuming I could retrieve their ashes.

The murky water surrounding the terrorist group’s chosen campsite would make that rather difficult.

To add to the complexity, we’d stumbled upon a nest of rare crocodiles, and one of the babies insisted on following me around. Every time I stopped for even a minute, the little shit snuggled up with my boots.

Our escort, a Cambodian RPS agent, informed me that it was a sign I had been chosen to begin their path of enlightenment. Resistance would be futile: the demonic entity would be coming home with me, and the Cambodians would help me make the blasted critter a palace within the palace.

Fortunately for my sanity, Siamese crocodiles only grew to be roughly ten feet, did not typically view humans as snacks, and would be easy enough to feed. Depending on the gender of my little one, I would receive several more of the species in an attempt to help restore their numbers.

At six whole inches long, my little crocodile was rather stunted and unlikely to survive in the wild.

Rather than bitch and moan about the little shit, I leaned over and picked it up to spare it from exhausting itself further.

If it was desperate enough to chase me for half a mile through infested jungle, I was man enough to carry it despite understanding I welcomed yet another predator into my home.

At least Sika and Tumen didn’t seem to mind the journey, displaying a strong interest in swimming and doing an excellent job of deterring the larger crocodiles from bothering us.

I held the tiny monster up, looked it in the eyes, and said, “Your name is You Scaly Little Bastard, but we’re going to call you Smalls, because you’re ridiculously tiny right now.”

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