Page 18 of The Prince of New York

“What sort of work do you do at your shop? I’d heard rumors you have a business of some sort, but I didn’t look more into it than that.”

“I operate a junkyard,” I confessed. “I separate the different metals and melt them into weighed bars and resell them. I do a lot of recycling, especially of titanium, since titanium requires high and consistent heat to remelt. I can produce sufficient heat to melt titanium, and I pour that into molds. I use my flameweaving to temperature control the molds so the molten titanium doesn’t destroy them. I do have tungsten molds for use in barring titanium, but I practice my temperature refinements with different materials when I’m recycling metals. When I have a mixed metal batch, I melt out the metals one by one using their melting point to extract each metal. I can get some pretty pure metal groupings that way.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “You can melt titanium?”

“I can.”

“Doesn’t that have an insanely high melting point?”

I nodded. “It’s fairly high, but it’s not the top ten for melting points of metals and alloys. I can melt tungsten. That one melts at thirty-four hundred degrees.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Centigrade or Fahrenheit?”

“Centigrade,” I replied, amused she’d used the old term for Celsius. “Assuming you can get Dr. Stanton to clear me to work, there’s no reason you can’t accompany me to the yard and watch me work.”

“Maybe I should. You’ll surely cause someone trouble should you be left unattended.”

I eyed her, as I’d gone out of my way to stay out of trouble and not bother anyone ever since Rachel had returned to New York. “Why would you say that?”

“You are a prince, and by default, all princes are trouble.”

As I couldn’t dispute her point, I settled in to glare at her.

She smirked, and something about her expression warned me I would be the one troubled, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. The how of it I was certain I would discover soon enough.

FIVE

“Expect my wife to come visit and baby you, Ian.”

By the timeDr. Stanton freed me from the hospital, a migraine crashed through my skull. I questioned being released, but rather than ask, I went along with the woman’s suggestion I return to the palace. The painkillers she offered, along with some other drug meant to mitigate the concussion symptoms, knocked me for a loop. The instant after I buckled into the SUV, I passed out.

It took Terry a disturbingly long time to coax me into walking to my suite under my own steam while my sister hovered. Madelyn took her job as an organizer of chaos rather seriously, somehow keeping Rachel from losing her grip on her sanity. To keep peace in the royal family, Dr. Stanton suggested that my sister’s tigers play at babysitting me.

Much like my sister’s service dog, the tigers had learned to identify when someone suffered from a serious health problem, and unlike my sister’s service dog, they could open doors at their whim. They could also roar, which did an excellent job of securing attention during an emergency.

The service dog, who worked during the day and romped around the palace at night, liked tricking people. My sister had named him Angel, but I questioned if any husky could actually be an angel. At night, he ran around with the energy of some demon hopped up on sugar and in dire need of an outlet.

The last thing I needed was Angel being assigned to me for any period of time.

As talking would make the pounding worse, I observed the dispute between doctor and queen, wondering who would step away the winner.

Amisha and Endah flanked me, sat, and rumbled at me, all the evidence I needed to understand I would be the plaything of a pair of tigers until Dr. Stanton said otherwise. There were worse ways to go, and as standing sapped the little energy I had left, I got on the floor with the tigers, leaned against Amisha, and debated napping in the hallway.

Madelyn crouched in front of me, pressing the back of her hand against my forehead. “Dr. Stanton? He’s running a fever.”

“It’s from the drug cocktail I gave him,” the doctor replied. “It’ll probably break by morning. It’s a known side effect, and it’s a drug he’s had before. He has worse reactions to the other drugs. Amish and Endah can smell if the fever gets too intense, and they’ll fetch me if needed. Rachel, I know Angel is a medical alert dog, but Amisha and Endah are perfect for this task. He’s going to suffer from chills to go with his fever, and they’ll keep him warm. They’ll also keep him in bed. While your brother is plenty strong, he isn’t strong enough to move an entire tiger. While one holds him down, her sister will fetch us, and he’ll be kept safe and sound. And, however much I hate to admit this, Angel is only an angel during business hours.”

My sister heaved a sigh. “I honestly don’t know how he didn’t wash out of being a service dog.”

“During business hours, he’s an excellent service dog with a good record. After hours? Not so much.” Dr. Stanton smiled, went to my sister, and kissed her forehead. “Your brother is going to be fine. Ethan isn’t going anywhere, so you have an emotional support human if you need one. Your tigers will keep an eye on Ian, and I’ll check on him in the morning. Right now, he needs a meal and sleep. I texted the kitchen with what he should have, and it should be ready within the next half an hour. Ian, I want you to last only long enough to eat, all right? I know you like handling your own chores, but you can deal with one of the staffers cleaning up after you for tonight.”

“I can take care of the dishes,” Madelyn offered. “And I’ll help the tigers keep an eye on Ian.”

“Thank you, Madelyn. Rachel, make sure Madelyn’s supervisor knows she won’t be working tomorrow on whatever her normal work is; her job until Ian’s clear of his concussion is to keep an eye on him.”

“I can do that.” My sister approached, bent over, and patted my shoulder. “I’m sorry I clocked you on the mud course, Ian.”

“I’m sorry I got clocked, but I’m not sorry I did the course.”

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