Page 46 of The Prince of New York

“We have more than a few empaths; about half of the agents are empaths. Her Majesty needed them, and now that they’re here, none of them want to go back to their original posts. She’s easy to work with, and a lot of them have warmed up to His Royal Highness now that they know his previous agents had dropped the ball. I already did the interviews about his situation. The empaths had no idea, and the agents weren’t tracking who was at base and who was with Ian. And sorry, Ian. You’re getting a team of empaths, and they’re in a bit of a fight over who gets to be part of your detail.”

Terry’s tone, which blended exasperation and resignation, amused me. “As long as the empaths are available to help Madelyn, I’m fine with that. You could surround me with beautiful women. I wouldn’t mind.”

Daphne snickered. “No, but your new woman might.”

I allowed myself a sly smile. “That’s half the fun. I want to see what she’ll do.”

“Lose her mind,” Terry muttered. “And while it’s good to see that you’re taking a playful approach, I’m not going to assign a bunch of the women to your detail just so you can evaluate what Madelyn does. However, I will be assigning a bunch of the women to Madelyn’s detail, as I’m confident that any men who match her abuser’s profile will trip her trigger right now.”

“Please tell me I don’t match his profile.”

“You’re lithe to the point of being willowy. He’s rather bulky. He’s more of the bodybuilder type, where you’re more of a swimmer. You’re athletic, but you’re not bursting with testosterone.”

It took me all of three seconds to understand the problem—and why Madelyn had struggled to get out of the situation. “Terry, please enroll me for some self-defense courses with a focus on beating the shit out of men larger and stronger than I am. Without magic, of course.”

He sighed. “Can’t you just reduce him to ash? I’ll make arrangements for some courses, as I would like Madelyn to take them as well, but this man is dangerous, and he’s the kind of dangerous that could result in injury or death if he gets a hold of you. I’m of the opinion the only reason Madelyn hadn’t suffered more was because he didn’t want to lose his maid and home cook.”

What a bastard. “I think I will be the first New York royal to be competent in a kitchen. Can you ask the Californians if they can find someone to teach me how to cook? If she’s been forced to cook and clean for this bastard, I’ll make sure she understands she only has to do those things if she wants to. Selling it shouldn’t be difficult; I already have an issue with cleaning.”

“As long as you keep your cleaning to tolerable limits,” Terry replied. “Daphne? Can you ask His Royal Majesty if we can borrow you for two to three weeks? I’m sure he hassomethingneeding to be done in California.”

“I’m supposed to go to Spain in a week to meet some horses.”

“Ask them to bring the horses to California and do a demonstration,” the RPS agent suggested. “I can give His Royal Majesty of Spain a call about it. Considering the situation, I want you on hand. The fastest way to take Ian out non-lethally will be a bullet at this stage. I’d bet a leg shot. Otherwise, his talent is a beast and everyone knows it.”

Daphne got out her phone, put it on speaker, and dialed.

After the second ring, His Royal Majesty of Montana answered, “What’s wrong, Daphne?”

“Nothing’s particularly wrong, but I’m going to confirm that we saw both of the bastards, and Ian had a talk with them. He was given a peace offering of black Jutland stallion.”

“What the fuck?” After a moment, Montana’s king sighed. “Rolling Thunder, Hear my Cry?”

I blinked. “His name is a book title?”

“Yes. There’s only one black Jutland stallion on the books right now, and his name is Rolling Thunder, Hear My Cry; he belongs to His Royal Majesty of Denmark—or had. Hold on.” I heard some typing in the background. “I’ll be fucking damned. The registration shows you as the current owner, Ian.”

Well, well, well. That supported my parents’ claims. “There’s a new terrorist cell, and my parents had sufficient loyalties to the Royal States to risk coming to New York to tell me—and Daphne—about it. They brought Thunder with them. He’s currently getting his health checks.”

“That horse is priceless, Ian. There are only four purebred blacks left, and only one is a stallion—and the blacks are all related to each other. Thunder is five, and he hasn’t been bred yet. He’s proven in show circles, though. What is going on that His Royal Majesty of Denmark would trustyourparents with him?”

“Terrorists,” I reminded him. “My parents are a lot of things, but they hate terrorists, and I’m a target, as is Daphne. This group wants to cultivate royalty for a more aggressive caste system, apparently. I’m guessing we’d deteriorate back to the Second Civil War caste system.” I remembered my history and how magical abilities had rapidly led to the enslavement of lower caste and null people, especially in what would become Montana. “Denmark must know about the terrorists and wanted us to get the information—and act on it. Beyond that, I can’t guess why else I’d be given a horse.”

“They’re strong bonding candidates,” Terry announced.

“Ah, Terry. How is my sister doing?”

“She is currently taking over New York with her pregnancy hormones, forcing the monarchs to handle paperwork at the courthouse while I keep an eye on Ian. The twins were fine as of last night. Dr. Stanton is checking on them daily because she can.”

“Good. I’ll send over raspberry tea to help contain the beast. Which one is the empath?”

Terry chuckled. “We’re thinking Ian. He was on edge, and he knows his parents have a rather strong dislike for horses, so his talent would have been flaring at their meeting. And no, Ian, you cannot hide how delighted you were to discover a horse in that trailer.”

“I asked my sister for a horse.”

His Royal Majesty of Montana made a thoughtful sound. “I’ll give Denmark a call and see what I can figure out—and inquire on purchasing a few mares so Rolling Thunder, Hear My Cry can start doing his work to help the breed. They’re not sure why there aren’t many blacks left in the Jutland breed; the base law of genetics for color genetics indicates there should be far more than four blacks in the breeding population. Something is smothering the breed’s color potentials on the black line, and we’re not sure what. Most want flaxen chestnuts for Jutlands, but Rolling Thunder, Hear My Cry isn’t just a black, he’s a gene carrier for silver.”

“Do you just read about horses all day?” I asked, rolling my eyes over Montana’s king and his complete obsession with horses.

---