Page 8 of The Prince of New York

He hadn’t wanted our magic, and before his death, he’d made me promise to think of him as Dennis, boring and normal and everything a prince of New York could never be. I’d promised him I would—and I did. I also kept my word to keep boring and normal Dennis a secret.

Secrets I handled well.

But one truth I could speak without betraying my brother, not that anyone listened or heard me. “My brother did not spontaneously combust. He hated his magic, he hated being a Royal of New York, and he wanted the vigil to end. He suicided, and he stopped fighting the magic that always sought to eat him alive. He had tired to the point of no return. And so he went. And because he was a Royal of New York, he couldn’t escape here, he couldn’t find somewhere better to burn. He combusted at the point he’d lost all hope for some better future, one without his magic eating away at him every day.”

Rather than say anything, Dr. Stanton reached over, wrapped me in her arms, and pulled me close. The grief I’d carried with me from the day of his death stirred, but rather than bottle it, I allowed it to escape.

Dr. Stanton was many things, but I could trust her to understand the words I couldn’t bring myself to speak.

Time passed as it did, and after a while, she sighed, rubbed my back, and said, “Your magic is not a cruel thing trying to undermine or hurt you, you know. Your magic is wise—as wise as you are, which is far beyond your years. Your magic knows what you need, and her lack of magic, her joy and wonder at your world, and her kindness are it. Your magic just didn’t understand how you, the Prince of New York, couldn’t act on such a perfect woman for you. And so you linger in the shadows.”

The ridiculousness of the title did a good job of pulling me out of the dark hole my brother’s loss always managed to create whenever someone mentioned him. “The Prince of New York? There are more princes in New York than we can shake sticks at, Dr. Stanton.”

“I can’t help what people call you, Ian. They call you that because you’re the sole prince among you who proved that New York does actually have a heart. And you were the one who helped bring your sister home. People know what you have done. And I expect you’ll always be part of the succession, or at least until the eldest of their children turns eighteen or twenty-one. I expect twenty-one. Someone who cannot legally drink surely cannot rule a kingdom, not when there’s a handsome man who can do the kingdom justice. And the people will accept you if anything were to happen to your sister.” After rubbing my back again, Dr. Stanton pulled away, reached to my nightstand, and grabbed a few tissues, offering them to me. “I will tell them you have had some minor reaction to excess dust in your suitcase to explain away the redness in your eyes. As I would never lie about a patient’s health, they’ll believe me.” The woman cast a sour look at my luggage, which I hadn’t put away. “I will be dealing with that travesty, Ian. That thing is caked in dust. Did you find it at the bottom of the closet?”

“Worse. I had it in my workshop at the junkyard.”

“Tell me, Ian. Do you trust me?”

After having witnessed the miracles Dr. Stanton had worked on my sister, if the woman told me to take a long walk off a short pier, I’d likely do it without much in the way of hesitation. “More than I probably should,” I admitted in a wry tone. “You’ve done so much for Rachel.”

“Let me help you. Tell me who this woman is, and I’ll make an arrangement for her to accompany you to California. I’m sure I can concoct a program for someone of a lower caste to join you.”

I winced at the thought of seeing Madelyn again. “I don’t think she was pleased when she learned who I am. I went out of my way to make sure she didn’t know. The only thing she got out of me was that my name is Ian, and she pitied me for having to share my name with a prince. I pitied me for that, too, except I was pitying me for being me.”

“You let me worry about that. You worry about playing with your sister on the mud course, resting, and finishing your work. I know you won’t be able to relax if you have anything left in that shop of yours. I’ll make certain that you have all your work finished before I approve your trip to California.”

“It won’t take that long to finish, assuming I can use my talent.”

“You can. It’s not your flameweaving that’s strained. However, you’re going to have to give me a good reason not to pursue checking you for metalweaving. You’re a little too adept at separating metals with heat. I suspect you have a hybrid talent like your sister. You work with metal, perhaps, a little better than a pure flameweaver might.”

“My sister’s talent is a lot like mine,” I confessed. “I’ve been giving her tips and tricks in how to better control her abilities and use her abilities with more finesse.”

“You didn’t like when she was burned.”

As there was no hiding the truth from Dr. Stanton, I nodded. “There might be some metalweaving, but if I am a metalweaver, it’s minor.”

“It would be just enough to allow you to pinpoint the metals you wish to melt so you can bar it in as pure a form as possible.” Dr. Stanton made a thoughtful noise. “I will ask Terry to test you; he’s adept at identifying metalweaving, and he can help train you if it’s necessary. With how you’re using it, I don’t think it’s necessary to specifically train it. However, it’s good to know if you do have it so you can be trained if you wish. It might help with your work. But in any case, I would like for it to be identified.”

“As I want to be a good example for my little sister, I will go through any evaluations you feel are necessary.”

The woman snickered. “Well, that should boost her morale some. Anyway, it’s your empathy talent that’s likely exerted. I can’t tell you why. It could be due to your sister. You’ve been worried about her. However, I’m concerned that there might be an issue with your bond, and your concentrated talent is trying to monitor her without your awareness of the situation. At the very least, I’d like to evaluate the woman and make certain she’s not suffering from a similar problem.”

I winced at the thought of Madelyn suffering for any reason. For her to possibly be struggling because of me?

I’d do more than throw myself under a bus to put an end to that. “Her name is Madelyn, and she worked in the palace for a while.”

“I’m sure I can find someone in this mausoleum who can point me in the correct direction. I’ll concoct an excuse to meet with her, do an evaluation, and figure out how to help your symptoms, especially if the bond is actually non-viable. And if it is viable, well, I’ll help push things along in a fashion beneficial for you both. I make no promises, but I’ll do what I can.”

My sister had taught me that little things could become big changes in time, and while I doubted I’d ever have what she enjoyed with Ethan, a chance was better than nothing at all. “What do you need me to do?”

“Be yourself, Ian. Much like Adam, you’re a guiding light. You just illuminate the world in a different way. You’re in line to rule, yes, but I hope you don’t. You’d do well, but it would tear you apart. You’re not like your sister, who is taking to her role rather naturally. You shine in diplomatic roles and applying bandages to bad situations. Your sister needs that, as does your kingdom. But right now? You don’t find any joy in it. I want that to change. And I suspect having a partner who can accompany and help you with your role in the kingdom will accomplish that. Do you think Madelyn would fit in that role?”

“I don’t know. She did good work in the palace, and I’m not sure why she left.” I heaved a sigh, aware of the strongest possibility. “It was probably my fault.”

“Why would it be your fault?”

“I wasn’t honest with her about my rank.”

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