Page 112 of The Prince of New York

Terry snickered. “We should be in range of the camp now if you want to trot your talent out. Also, we’re going to do more empathy tests on you to try to figure out how your talent has mutated. I’m thinking you’re using generalized empathy with any species at this rate. You’re not bonding, but you’re definitely influencing just about anyone or anything to cross your path. Your talent seems to influence animals and birds more than people, but it might explain why you’re so strong at negotiations. People just like you, and they want to give you a good deal.”

Rather than bite me, Smalls rubbed its nose against mine. “Is Smalls a girl or a boy?” I asked our guide.

“I am guessing female, but we will have to wait a while to do a proper examination or inquire with a physician with the appropriate mending talent,” he replied. “However, I think you may have a female due to her slender build and small size. Females are smaller, and this one is… rather diminutive… for a Siamese.”

“That’s a polite way of saying she’s the runt of the litter.” I laughed, and because she could fit in my breast pocket, I put her in to see what she would do.

Much like Pink Lady, she made herself comfortable and poked her head out for a better view of the world around her.

“Please stop charming endangered species,” Terry requested. “The paperwork to bring her back to New York is going to be painful. We’re all going to be crying by the time we’re done with the paperwork.”

“We can assist with such matters. It is not as though he is attempting to poach her. He has been chosen, and we respect her choice.”

Eddie shook his head, sighed, and reached down, snatching a snake by the back of its head and lifting it up. “Please tell me this one isn’t venomous.”

“That is a mangrove snake, a rather nice specimen, quite young. It is mildly venomous unless you take numerous bites, and much like Smalls, it is a recent hatch. You may keep it if you wish. You will require a reptile expert to care for it, but they are rewarding. Of course, your expert will not like me for suggesting you take it home with you. They have… opinions.”

I snickered at the thought of Eddie taking home a snake with opinions. “Reminder: your dadstillhas Mr. Wiggles, who absolutely refuses to expire from old age. Adding a more challenging snake to the menagerie won’t be an issue. Your dad loves visiting Mr. Wiggles when he doesn’t think anyone is looking.”

“Mr. Wiggles is now ten feet long, he’s the longest known bullsnake in the world, and has learned humans are his servants. We do not need another Mr. Wiggles.” Eddie eyed the snake in his hand. “But this one is pretty, and it would make a good reminder of why I can’t be left unattended.”

I laughed. “Terry, can you make a house for the snake?”

“I can,” the RPS agent confirmed, and a moment later, he had fashioned a metal bowl with a solid bottom and a fine mesh around the sides and a clasping lid. After dipping the bowl into the water, he opened the catch so Eddie could release his new pet inside. “I’m going to insist we transport this snake to the Royal States on a separate trip. A crocodile I can handle, but there will be no snakes on our plane.”

“I approve of this restriction. Sorry, Miss Meany,” I told the snake.

Our Cambodian guide claimed Miss Meany from Terry and Eddie. “I will make the arrangements. Please note thatsomeone’soveractive empathy talent is making this possible. Gold-ringed cat snakes, like this beauty, are notoriously shy, aggressive, and yes, quite mean. That this one is out in daylight hours indicates something woke it and scared it from its tree. No matter. As you were not bitten or attacked, you were chosen, Eddie.”

“Your turn,” I taunted. “How far are we from the camp?”

“We are no more than half a mile, and their patrol distance is a quarter mile. There is a waterfall near their camp, which will bar them from detecting us by sound. They only emerge from their sanctuary for supplies and missions, and they have just returned from gathering hostages. At last count, they have a mix of elite and royalty, all from Asia, numbering fifteen in total. The youngest appears to be seven, and the eldest is a teenager. They are not yet going for adults, but that will begin soon enough. The camp has a total of seventy-two bodies, your parents included. In case it matters, the terrorists are all adults, all over the age of thirty. If your talent can distinguish by age, that will make your job simplistic.”

I had no idea how my talent worked, but thus far, he had better sense than I did most days of the week. “I reviewed the dossiers of the terrorism group, so we should be all right there.” I eyed Daphne, who regarded the jungle with open disgust on her face. “Are you going to cry when I steal all the kills again?”

“Yes.” She heaved a pained sigh, the kind I recognized as her faking it. “I’m still trying to figure out what sort of sorcery you performed to allow them to allow us to do this. We have the heirs of two kingdoms here, a Montana prince, the adopted son of a king, and a bunch of other people these terrorists wouldloveto get their hands on. How did you pull this off?”

I stared at her. “Daphne, Edward is fine. He’s with the plane, and the plane is loaded with cranky RPS agents who lost the draw to wade through the jungle with us. I have a crocodile in my pocket, Eddie was stalked by a venomous snake better known for hating humanity, and I have two leopards who are going to learn the mud pit is actually fun because we won’t be taking them back to the jungle to play.”

Both cats regarded me with their equivalent of sad eyes.

I sighed. “We’ll take you to some streams and rivers at home so you can play with the girls, but we are not wading through snake and crocodile infested waters for fun. If we must, we will, but we will not be doing it for fun.”

The leopards went back to their guarding duties, and both turned their ears back at my edict.

Damned cats.

“Just start doing your magic, Ian. I want to get back to the plane before the wildlife decides it hates us.”

I chuckled at Daphne’s tone, which indicated she was at the end of her chain and regretted the excursion into the jungle. “You like deserts more, don’t you?”

“I really do.”

“All right. Let’s get this show on the road. Hopefully, there won’t be any cleanup left to do once I’m done, but be ready.” Trusting my talent after a lifetime of strict control had taken a great deal of getting used to, but I’d gotten better at releasing my hold on my magic while still giving sufficient direction to prevent any serious problems from surfacing. One issue, although I viewed it as minor, was that a few of my motes tended to seek out Madelyn and the girls, on guard until I finished making use of my magic. My talent typically manifested as a cat for Danielle, a songbird for May, and a horse for Madelyn when motes of fire and light were insufficient protection.

If the motes showed up in the Royal States, I’d have a lot of explaining to do, and I would likely be forced to sleep on a couch for at least a week.

Madelyn believed I was off doing Pat a favor, and that meant a low chance of talent usage. Once home, I’d confess my sins and accept any punishment she might issue with grace.

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