Page 95 of The Prince of New York

Once certain the call was disconnected, I returned Eddie’s phone. “Randy is comfortable with your dad’s situation, so I’m thinking it really is minor. In bad news, he is having a heart attack. In good news, it’s mild. That Randy is actually considering going to New York to help with the girls after your dad is through recovery and they transition is a good sign, so try not to worry.”

“That does help,” Eddie admitted. “I’m sure I’m going to freak out once I’m off work.”

“That’s reasonable, and honestly, I’ll be doing it, too. Just don’t let them give me big painkillers, because when this fever hits, I’m going to be a menace. Please forgive me for this later.”

“I’m sure we can handle a fever,” Eddie replied, shaking his head.

“Remind him I warned him, Terry.”

Terry sighed. “Those are what we call famous last words, Eddie, and because you dared to say them, he’s your problem.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

I liked my watch.

The tripto the hospital cost two hours, involved an update of my vaccinations, and would add to my fever problems, much to my disgust. Dr. Stanton, between lectures on how I needed to handle my recovery, alternated between praising me for my handling of the situation and scolding me for rendering the royal airstrip useless for at least three weeks.

Thanks to the amount of fuel I had spilled and burned, the tarmac needed to be ripped out and reinstalled. When she finished tearing strips out of me for my excessive use of magic, she stole my watch so it could undergo an integrity check. Fortunately for me, the manufacturer had a facility near San Francisco, so I would have it back within three days.

I liked my watch. In an open act of defiance, I put on my other one and stuck my tongue out at her.

She laughed, and then she gave me a kiss on the temple, ordered me to behave, and made me wait until she could finish reviewing the various scans they’d inflicted upon me to confirm my health wouldn’t suffer from my close interaction with a bullet.

I escaped the hospital with a few stitches, a pair of crutches, a new suit, and the start of a headache, which promised Eddie would not be having a good night when he realized just how much of a menace I became while fevered. A nap would have done wonders for me, but I resisted the urge, knowing the truth about my current state: if I closed my eyes, I wouldn’t be waking up until sometime in the next day or two—or three, depending on how sick I got after using the enhancer.

It could go any which way.

As we pulled up to the front entrance of the palace, Terry said, “I know you’re going to want to keep your sleep schedule at least somewhat sane, so after you convince Madelyn you aren’t actually perishing, I’d like to discuss the terrorists.”

“I can work with discussing terrorists. How did the girls handle the incident?”

“The girls have no idea there was an incident,” he confessed. “We’ll explain it to them, but for the moment, you are a little clumsy and need crutches for at least a week.”

I could handle being clumsy and needing crutches for a week. “All right. I mean, I was clumsy. I got in the way of a bullet, and now I’m extra clumsy. But a week, Dr. Stanton?”

“Allowing the wound to heal with minimal mending might teach you to do a better job of dodging bullets—and we’re on call in case His Royal Majesty has any complications. If he has any complications, it’ll be my turn to handle care, but I doubt it.”

With a lethal empathy bond, the royal physicians from every kingdom in the world would work together if necessary to keep Pat alive.

If we lost Pat, we lost Jessica, and the last thing anyone wanted was for Adam and Mireya to have to take over Texas while grieving the loss of Adam’s parents. New York celebrated the transition, but Texas would mourn—and Texas would mourn for a long while.

Change hadn’t come easy, but it had come, and Texas shined because of its monarchs.

I hoped that the legacy they wanted to leave would be a reality in their lifetimes, and that the pair would grow to be old and bask in the glow of grandchildren underfoot, their version of the perfect happily ever after.

Once the vehicle came to a halt, Terry got out, went to my side, and held the door open for me. “Take your time. The busybodies can wait on you, and Madelyn would much rather see you go slow than fall on your face. You are about ten minutes from that fever sweeping in, and when it does, you will be chaos.”

“Only ten minutes? How can you tell?”

“You’re pale, your eyes are dulling, and you’re having trouble following moving objects. Dr. Stanton?”

“It’s his normal,” the physician reported from the front seat before getting out. “But he’s right, Ian. I don’t know how long you’re going to stay coherent, so I’m going to be monitoring you. I’m going to also feed you as soon as I can stage a hostile takeover of the kitchen. We’ll try you on beef stew. And yes, before you worry, all the wine survived. You can have beef stew with safe wine. The cargo was in the trailer with the horses and animals.”

“I would have cried if the wine had been lost,” I admitted. “Can I have the wine with whatever meds the doctors gave me?”

“As it has no alcohol, yes, but try a small amount in case it doesn’t agree with you. Do you want bread or mashed potatoes with your beef stew?”

I loved that the woman knew I liked it one of both ways. “Is both possible?”

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