Page 30 of The Prince of New York

“I know better than to ask a New Yorker to stay out of trouble two days in a row. I might need a doctor should that happen.”

EIGHT

“We’re teaching my sister to steal my grape juice along with my jerky?”

With minimal encouragementfrom Dr. Stanton, Madelyn dove into organizing my life with amusing enthusiasm. After we ate breakfast, which consisted of honeyed salmon, rice, and a salad, we returned to the palace. In the questionable comfort of a conference room, the woman prioritized my life around food while the royal physician watched on with open approval.

Someone must have warned Madelyn about my family’s tendency to skip meals or forget about eating. She stared at her clipboard with intriguing intensity. Something on the page either bothered her or flummoxed her, and I couldn’t tell which. After a few minutes, I asked, “What’s wrong?”

With startling ferocity, she stabbed the paper with the tip of her pen. “They want you to go to a vineyard tomorrow.”

Ah. “Ethan’s family loves wine, and Rachel can’t handle going to vineyards. She starts to cry. The bottles are so pretty, and if she buys a bottle, she’ll try something from the bottle, she’ll end up sick, but she can’t waste the bottle. She’ll try to drink down an entire bottle of wine because she has issues about wasting food. She forgets Ethan is happy to drink the wine for her. She’s probably undergoing therapy so she can go to the vineyard without trying to drink any of the wine she buys. I look at bottles of wine and wait for a private moment to gag over having to be in the same room with them. But I can listen to the excited vineyard employees go over their offerings, and they respect my intolerance for alcohol. They’ll bring a variety of grape juices made from their vines, and I get to do the kid’s version of a tasting. And they’ll bottle my favorite juices for me to take home.”

Madelyn’s eyes widened. “Really?”

I nodded. “The second time my mother brought me to the vineyard, the staff clued in I can’t have alcohol, so they started the grape juice thing. My mother saw I was drinking something the color of wine and didn’t care. My father just didn’t care. The staff would run off to bottle my favorite of the lot so I maintained appearances.”

“Your parents made you drink wine?”

I shrugged. “Half the time, my parents were drinking before noon, and they didn’t understand how they could possibly produce two children who ‘didn’t like’ alcohol. They didn’t accept the intolerance issue once it was discovered, and the only time Rachel or I got respite was when the kitchen staff realized they were feeding us, too. We were stuck if we had to eat out.”

“So, the vineyard will provide grape juice for you?”

I nodded. “It’s not an issue, and I enjoy visiting the vineyards. It’s a pleasant outing. They’ll make lunch for us, too, and it’ll be everything that partners well with wine without having wine, so you won’t have to deal with the consequences of alcohol exposure. If you want to try the grape juice flight, I’m sure they’ll humor you. But you can try the wine flight if you want.”

“I don’t drink,” she admitted.

“Then you can join me at the kids’ table and have a grape juice flight. We’ll ask one of the RPS agents to warn them that there will be two grape juice flight drinkers.” To my amusement, one of the nearby agents raised his hand in an acknowledgment of my request, and I matched the gesture before giving Madelyn my full attention again. “We’ll get a list of all the Californians and their wine preferences, and everyone will get two bottles. I’ll probably go home with an entire case of grape juice, as I absolutely will down an entire bottle without hesitation.”

Dr. Stanton, who was saddled with making sure I didn’t do something we’d regret and had been assigned to babysit me for the remainder of the day, heaved a sigh. “Please do not give yourself diabetes drinking grape juice.”

“I’ll limit it to one bottle a day,” I promised. “It’s really good stuff. You should try it.”

After casting a forlorn glance at the RPS agent who’d assigned himself as the vineyard organizer, she said, “Please ask the vineyard to prepare several extra cases. I suspect the queen will want to partake and is dealing with her typical pride issues again.”

“We’re teaching my sister to steal my grape juice along with my jerky? That’s mean, Dr. Stanton.”

The woman laughed. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought to just substitute the wine for grape juice, but that would let the queen have dinners without feeling embarrassed. She’s been trying really hard to keep from asking for milkshakes to go with her dinner. It’s bad enough she’s getting them for breakfast. At least I can claim the grape juice has some questionable health benefits, where the milkshake is really just fatty calories she can make disappear in five minutes flat if she feels someone is going to take it from her.”

“I’m proud she’s having it. Our parents would have beaten her if she’d asked for one.” When growing up, I’d jumped on every sword I could, making sure Rachel witnessed my punishments for things she might ask for.

As such, I’d endured the bruises and she had not.

She’d been smart enough to learn from my ‘mistakes,’ and I still went out of my way to make certain my sister failed to realize I’d repeated more than a few of them so she wouldn’t have to endure the same level of suffering.

After Ethan and Rachel had secured their happiness together, I’d returned to my ratty apartment, alone as always, and allowed myself to weep from a mixture of relief and grief. The worry our parents were out there somewhere bothered me—and if rumor spread of them being out there, I would take it upon myself to make certain they stayed gone.

I’d spent a lot of my life pretending Rachel had the stronger talent, hoping that her perceived power would offer her protection. I’d strived to stay a step behind her.

In reality, I’d been trying to light my showers on fire since I’d turned six, refining my talent until I had complete control over my magic down to the degree. If Dr. Stanton looked closer at what I did in my junkyard, she might expose the truth. Tricking Carrie took work, but I’d been doing it for so long she didn’t worry me.

Dr. Stanton liked to cheat, and she used her empathy with dedicated ruthlessness when it came to those in her care.

Madelyn relaxed and returned to investigating my schedule. “All right. As that isn’t actually an issue, on Sunday, they want to take you to your workplace and your apartment to gather anything you might need. Terry, Monty, and a few Californian RPS agents will be accompanying you. I will be accompanying the queen on a shopping venture and to the courthouse to acquire paperwork. You will meet us at the courthouse to finalize some documentation. Monday, we will be taking an early morning flight to California, where we will be met at the royal airstrip by your Californian RPS team and the Californian Royal Family. They will be hosting a dinner, which has been promised to be alcohol free, much to the dismay of all in attendance except us.”

I laughed at that. “Her Royal Majesty just doesn’t want to end up in the men’s room again. It was accidental contamination to the point I hadn’t even noticed the taste of the alcohol. I was fine until I wasn’t. She realized what had happened, and she spent the rest of the night and the next day apologizing profusely. Fortunately, I fell on that sword, so when Rachel ended up in California, there were no mishaps.”

“Are there any preparations I should do for the trip?”

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