Page 71 of Iron Unicorn

“How much did that cost?”

With a chuckle, the agent shook his head. “It cost nothing beyond a little tip off indicating that Her Highness may no longer be a bachelorette. You can add that to your count of hints if you’d like, courtesy of His Royal Majesty of Texas.”

“In the grand scheme of things, how scandalous is it for a princess to be seen going out to dinner with someone in the RPS?” I raised a hand and rubbed my temple. “I did not come prepared to do damage control.”

“No damage control is required. You are considered to be a man of impeccable reputation, you have an appropriate rank even before your evaluation, and you are working in a different kingdom. No one is going to need to even spin anything. We are hoping that the rumor mill will run wild tomorrow and start cluing Her Highness into the reality of her bond with you.”

“I’m taking two clicks for this. Dealing with the rumor mill is worth a click.” Bracing for the reality of being photographed, I waded into the crowd, taking the time to greet the children on the way. They focused on the princess in a state of awe, not that I could blame them.

Olivia wore a blue gown trimmed with green that belonged in a palace, and she’d gone for something a little more conservative than usual, showing only a hint of cleavage. All in all, if someone told me she’d stepped out of a fairy tale, I would believe them.

His Royal Majesty of Montana picked that moment to appear, and it took me less than a second to realize the king likely played an active role in the appearance of the camera crew and reporters.

The agents accompanying me stepped to my side, and the one said, “We just can’t get rid of him, no matter what we do.”

The complaint made me laugh, and I relaxed at his disgruntled tone. “If you think that he’s going to pass on a chance to mess up our day, you may require remedial training.”

One of the older children recognized Will, and word spread of the king’s presence rather like one of the wildfires prone to tearing across California. Within five minutes, he had the entire lot of them charmed, and he even coerced the paparazzi into taking photographs so the children could have proof they’d met a king and his pretty princess of a sister.

I gave Will credit. He’d found one way of working magic on his sister, and it involved having a bunch of impressionable children convincing her all was well in the world.

They delighted in her.

A tug at my sleeve caught my attention, and one of the ponies lipped at my suit. A sign declared the animal to be a mare in training, and I chuckled, looked for her handler, and determined I faced off with an escapee. I introduced myself, petted the pony’s pale nose, and aware that service animals were trained to bring assistance to their human, I waited to see what the animal wanted.

Sure enough, the pony took a few steps away before halting to stare at me.

I did as the animal wanted, and once the pony believed I followed, she trotted over to a little girl in a wheelchair at the edge of the crowd. She stared at Olivia and her brother, and I recognized the look of someone about to start crying.

In the excitement, whomever had been assigned to her had likely forgotten to include her, something that happened with unfortunate frequency. I approached, crouched, and said, “Hey. I’m Terry. Do you want to meet the king and the princess?”

The little girl’s eyes widened, she shoved her hand into her mouth, and she nodded. I determined her to be roughly five to seven years old. The awkward positioning of her hand and her difficulty coordinating herself indicated she had some sort of motor disability. I smiled and said, “Then we shall go meet them.”

I praised the pony for a job well done, examined the wheelchair until I located the wheel locks, and made certain her feet were on the rests before beginning the tedious process of wheeling her towards the royal pair hard at work proving that Montana royals were more like fluffy chinchillas than monsters.

I thought about scolding the adults responsible for the children for leaving her unattended, but I recognized when chaos had taken hold—and all the children battled something, leaving the adults waging a war to keep everyone calm, somewhat organized, and safe.

The pony followed along at the little girl’s side, and when we drew closer to the crowd, she took the initiative and bumped people with her nose until they realized they needed to make way for the wheelchair. The girl I helped struggled to clap her hands, although her wide grin told me all I needed to know.

Everyone wanted to be included.

To catch Olivia’s attention, I whistled at her much like I would to a horse. It caught her attention, and when I pointed at the girl in her wheelchair, she spent a few minutes with the kids she’d been talking to before heading our way with her brother in tow. Following the king came the paparazzi, and they got lured into talking with the children, too.

They wanted to know about the fancy cameras.

“Terry!” Olivia managed to navigate through the sea of kids, came to my side, and kissed my cheek. “I see you’ve made a friend.”

“Her pony fetched me because she was alone and upset, and I figured she wanted to meet you and His Royal Majesty.”

Will went to the pony, crouched, and petted the animal, praising her for a job well done. He unzipped the pouch on her service vest and pulled out some papers. “Her name is Jane, and she has dystonia along with some other hereditary disorders, but the dystonia has confined her to a wheelchair. She’s generally nonverbal but sometimes speaks.” He returned the papers to the pouch, praised the service pony again, and said, “Most of the kids have some form of disability here today; there’s an adoption event tomorrow, and I’m going to stay underfoot hoping to drive some attention to it.”

Then, he focused on the little girl, and he graced her with one of his most radiant smiles. “Hello, Jane. Is this your first time meeting royalty?”

She bobbed her head, and she stared at him with wide eyes.

“Well, I’m William, and I rule Montana.” He gestured to Olivia, who dipped into a curtsey, and like her brother, she smiled at the little girl. I spotted the paparazzi doing what they did best, capturing the moment.

For a rare change, I appreciated their work.

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