“They just question her gender.”
The RPS agent nodded. “But once again, that’s where you come in. You have all the traits most want in a Texan, and you have Her Royal Highness’s full attention. Her reaction to your incident cemented the deal for most. They’ll deal with you because they must. There’s the possibility those vying for the crown will try to get rid of you. Texans won’t; there’s too much support behind empathic bonds here, especially with horses. The way most of the elites see it, if you’re willing to run yourself into the ground for a horse, you’ll do that for your queen and the kingdom.”
Geoff’s tone implied a lot, and a chill went up my spine. They weren’t wrong, especially about what I would do for Jessica, although I had no idea what I could offer her beyond cooking her favorite foods. “It can’t be that simple.”
“In Texas, it really can be that simple. What can I say? Texas is weird.”
It sure was.
Geoff drove a practical, black family car, the sort of thing I expected taxi drivers to have. After being surrounded by trucks and horse trailers, the vehicle seemed small and rather fragile. It scored full points for comfort, and I leaned into the seat and stretched. My tired groan caught the agent’s attention.
“How bad was your back before you took flying lessons?” He started the engine, but he didn’t pull out of the ranch’s driveway.
“It wasn’t great.”
“We’ll head to the RPS center first and see what’s going on. You should be sore, but not in the level of pain you’re in. You look like you’re done in.” Geoff tapped at his phone before stashing it in the center console. Once done, he eased the car around the lingering puddles littering the gravel road leading back to civilization.
“This isn’t my idea of a good time. But no, it’s not like being sore. I’m used to that. I haven’t been riding that long.”
“Well, hang in there. You couldn’t have hurt it too bad. You were moving pretty well on your horse.”
“You mean between the flying bits?”
“Yes. You’re not supposed to fly, although you did quite well at falling safely. Any fall where your helmet isn’t needed is a good fall, and while your back hurts now, that’s something we can fix. It’s much harder to fix broken skulls.”
“I’ve been told I’ll probably ride without a helmet one day, and I keep thinking they’re crazy.”
“It’s definitely safer, but you probably will avoid helmets on the trails. We require them during competitions now. A few deaths, and well, nobody wants to deal with that. Any time you’re planning on jumping or doing more than a walk or easy trail ride, a helmet is recommended. If you’re competing, it’s required.”
When I thought of trails, I thought of winding trails over mountains. “Wouldn’t it be safer to wear them on trails?”
He chuckled. “If you fall off a horse on the trail, you’ve probably got a lot more problems than a helmet. A fall can happen to anyone at any time. If you’re not comfortable without a helmet, wear your helmet. But if you’re in the arena, always wear one.”
“Sounds good. How many helmets should I keep around?”
“I keep four, and I always have at least one spare with me at all times.”
Horses cost a fortune, and my two would bankrupt me given time. At least Baby’s medical bills would be partially covered. I foresaw a great deal of stress in my future as I navigated the murky waters of abused horse care. “I’m going to need to buy more helmets.”
“I can take you to a tack shop after we go to the RPS clinic to have your back checked.”
I wondered how I’d get used to the night shift again; being down and out for so long had shifted my sleep schedule, and I expected I’d be exhausted before I was supposed to go to work. “Odds this clinic is going to tell me I can’t go to work?”
“Considering how you’re moving? You’re not going to work tonight. You’ll probably get some heavy duty painkillers following treatment, and you’ll be expected to sleep it off and return to the clinic tomorrow to see how your back is doing. Back problems have a way of lingering, and until someone figures out what the problem is, you’ll be told to take it easy.” Geoff chuckled. “Your employer will survive without you.”
“Their office building might not, though,” I muttered.
“They’ll have to get used to it. I expect you’ll be employed at the palace in an administrative role to get you used to your future duties. That was Her Royal Highness’s idea, as you, like most Texans, have issues with accepting anything perceived as charity.”
Texans were our own worst enemies at times. “I can’t say she’s wrong.”
“My job, for the foreseeable future, is to help get you settled and act as your primary detail. The RPS is viewing this as an extension of Her Royal Highness’s detail work, as the significant others of royals are considered people of interest. You could be targeted because of your relationship with her. You’ll be given a full detail once the specifics of your future role and your relationship with the princess are finalized.”
“What is my current relationship with Jessica? Officially?”
“Future consort. The issue of whether you’ll share equal power with Her Royal Highness will be determined by the congress. That is a battle for Her Royal Highness to wage, however. But considering the situation and the general issues of Her Royal Highness’s gender, I expect you’ll be confirmed as a full Royal authority in Texas.”
“Her nails are probably more royal than I am.”
Geoff chuckled. “You’re strongly bonded to two horses. That puts you at a rather strong horse empathy talent. It’s a concentrated talent, so you’re not necessarily picking up from every horse, but your horses? You have a strong talent. A royal level horse empath can strongly bond to four or five horses. Add in your unique relationship with Her Royal Highness, and it’s probable you’re naturally a high-ranked talent. Easily in the elite rankings.”
I gaped at him. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“It’s the nature of magic, or so most of us are truly learning. Persistent inability can—and does—mask strong ability. They evaluated you on a horse that either couldn’t or wouldn’t bond with you. An older animal isn’t likely to bond with someone, for example. Both of your horses are young. In the case of your black, the work you’ve done with him alone indicates you might have a royal level horse empathy talent, but not the kind people want horse empaths to have. Your generalized talent is probably weak. With your horses, you’re something special, but you won’t have much of an edge with horses that aren’t yours. Or so I’ve gleaned from the stablemaster where you keep your filly.”
“Branst talked to you about me?”
“It’s my job to learn as much about you as I can until you have your own detail. And once I’m working with Her Royal Highness again, I’ll be able to help your detail as needed, although she’ll be my primary responsibility. It’s good to have agents who can work with both members of a partnership.”
“I’ll take your word on that. So what does this mean for me? That I’ve had this talent that’s not what I thought?” I wanted to ask why anyone would think I could actually be Jessica’s king.
I’d have to tell her everyone willing to go along with the idea was stark-raving mad.
“It just means you’ll need to be trained, you’ll undergo some evaluations, and you’ll be reregistered. Your parents will also undergo evaluations to figure out if they’re in the same situation you’re in. Now that it’s known you are a concentrated empath of two types, they can be better tested, too.”
“Is it really necessary?” I thought of my parents and the life they lived—and the new opportunities they’d gotten for themselves. How would it change them if they were run through the wringer again? “Won’t it hurt them if they’re reclassified? They’re older.”
“It’s not easy to test someone who is older, but they’ll have more opportunities for them. Better support.”
�
�It’s probably too late, isn’t it? They would be retiring soon—if they could afford to.”
“I think you’ll find you’ll be in a much better position to ensure their well-being moving forward.”
That also bothered me, but I kept my misgivings to myself. “In the meantime, what should I expect?”
“A lot of general schooling about etiquette, politics, and international affairs. It’s late for you to start learning foreign languages, but expect to learn the basics for a handful of languages so you can handle greetings with foreign dignitaries. Generally, Her Royal Highness will handle most of it, but you’ll be expected to make appearances as well. Public speaking lessons will be required, too.”
“This is going to go over well,” I muttered.
“You’ll be fine. You’re a smart gentleman, you’re good with your horses, and you’re the kind of man Texans generally like. Your real job is to support Her Royal Highness, and I suspect you’ll have no problems on that front. You just seem like the type.”
As always, I would do my best, even if I had to run myself into the ground each and every day to do the job. That was one thing I was good at.
In an attempt to put me at ease, Geoff described the daily life of a royal at the castle—or palace, depending who was asked. The more he talked, the more I admired Jessica for what she went through each and every day. Her morning started at six, and she got up to care for her horse; she technically owned several horses, but she spent the most time with her demon of a black. Once she finished caring for her horses, she had breakfast, which was often an official event involving intrigue, power plays, and dealing with snooty bureaucrats.
Government matters then filled her day until lunch, which was lower key than dinner or breakfast unless Jessica was in the middle of a feud with her father, which was most of the time. Her afternoons and evenings either involved dealing with more government affairs or entertaining bureaucrats.
According to Geoff, dinner went one of two ways. It was either an official affair meant to impress, or it was a war waged between the royal family, and I’d be expected to participate in all of it.
I stared out the window, admiring the lake the road skirted. “Does the RPS offer rescue services from the dinner parties?”
Geoff laughed. “It’s happened on occasion. Until you’re officially crowned, you’ll be able to escape with any reasonable excuse.”
“Am I the only person who thinks me having anything to do with a crown is insanity?”
“Quite possibly. The issue of the succession is a serious one, and Her Royal Highness is a very sensible albeit passionate woman.”
“Albeit passionate?”
“She has a very hot temper, and she has opinions on the type of man she views as suitable to be her king. Frankly spoken, I’m surprised she hadn’t looked for someone from the lower castes before now. It’s been discussed even before she met you. She needs a hard worker who understands reality. She also needs someone who understands practical matters. She has been displeased with the offerings from Texas and other kingdoms, and His Royal Majesty has been unwilling to truly force her hand into marriage.”
“She doesn’t believe that.”
Geoff snickered. “His Royal Majesty is a master manipulator, sir. He played her like an instrument. While he will never admit this, I’m of the opinion this is working just as he wanted. Of all the types of magic, there is no better partner for his daughter than an empath. He’d take a horse empath, but if you’re not a concentrated empath with a lock on Her Royal Highness, I’ll be extremely surprised. And since you’re already an empath, it’s likely you’re responsible for the bond, but her reactions are making it very clear there is a bond.”
I groaned and covered my eyes with my arm. “I’m going to be executed for this, aren’t I?”
“A lifetime imprisonment as her king is a more probable result. It is the job of the RPS to look for the symptoms of a bond and nurture it following discovery. We’ve suspected she’s been bonded for a while, but we had no idea who she was bonded to. It’s obvious it’s you. Her reaction to your collapse confirmed it.”
“Because she flared?”
“She was terrified for you, bluntly spoken, sir. That ultimately caused the flare. As you’re trained in empathy and know better what to look for, you’ll understand. As your abilities develop, you’ll react more to her base emotions as well. The first time Her Royal Highness becomes ill, you’ll understand better. She’s rather healthy.”
“Too stubborn to get sick,” I muttered.
Geoff laughed. “She has not been ill the entire year I’ve been part of her detail beyond the olive oil incident, which she handled herself with your help.”
“Is what I tell you confidential?”
“If it isn’t a security issue, yes.”
“She was so flustered over that she proposed the first time she came to my apartment asking for help. I’m still uncertain of how she got my address.”
“I believe she had an accomplice aid her. We aren’t sure, either.”
I thought about it. “She probably heard my name from one of the employees or asked my boss for it. Then she could request it through the employment database; addresses for members of my caste aren’t confidential.”
Geoff cursed. “We’ll have to change that. I wasn’t aware it was that easy to get your address. We have a database of individuals in the RPS, but I wasn’t aware it was publicly accessible information.”
“If I can help, I’m glad to. With pointing out things like that, that is. I know the system better than most; I had to use it to my advantage because of my expanded education courses. The classes, even with the grant, were expensive, so I had to be careful with my work to make sure I could keep attending classes.”
“We’ll do a risk evaluation at the clinic. That’ll give me a better idea of how to handle your protection. And yes, before you argue, anyone with your talents would need a strong detail. Unless you have an unknown talent, you lack any realistic offensive abilities. This means you’ll have a tighter detail than Her Royal Highness, who can defend herself without the help of the RPS. That said, she requires a detail, too. Magic isn’t infallible. Ideally, we’ll address any threats before they reach her. But should they reach her? She’s quite capable and has refined control over her abilities.”
I suspected Jessica had some self-esteem issues she needed to work through. “That’s good to know. In the meantime, what can I do?”
“Just stick with me. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
I learned two valuable things about cars, trucks, and bridges.
First, a pickup could ram a smaller car right over the low guardrail without much effort. Second, following a tumble over a bridge, Geoff’s car took a remarkably long time to fully submerge.
The impact with the water hurt like hell, and my back was ready to file notice and quit on me altogether. While I tried to figure out how the hell we’d gone from driving to sinking, Geoff unbuckled his seatbelt, popped open the center console, and retrieved a bundle of tools.
Then he pulled out his gun and shot the windshield several times before contorting in his seat, lifting his leg, and kicking until the entire thing shattered. The glass somehow held together, save for where the bullets had punched through. Water cascaded into the car.
“This is my personal vehicle. Had this been bulletproof glass, this wouldn’t work. Tell me, Pat. Can you swim?”
“I can badly tread water.”
The look he shot me promised I’d be spending a lot of time in a swimming pool in the near future. “Here’s your crash course in surviving this: don’t fight me, and once we’ve surfaced, tread water as you can; I’ll angle for the bridge supports so you have something to hang onto. Start taking deep breaths. When the car fills, hold your breath and let me worry about the rest. The water’s no deeper than fifteen feet here, but it’s safer to let the car finish sinking before we go for the surface.”
“That’s safer?”
Geoff shot another glare at me. “Just do it.”
The windshield popped, and with a few final kicks, Geoff dislodged the entire thing.
The car began sinking a lot faster without anything to slow the water from pouring in. I followed his lead and unbuckled my seatbelt, hissing at the throb in my back.
I obeyed his orders as I wanted to survive, but I wondered if I could make my new home in my horses’ stalls. Sleeping with the devil seemed a lot safer than being rammed off a bridge and told to just sink before trying to escape the car.
The why of it made a great deal more sense once the water flooded the car in earnest. Had I been trying to figure out which end was up, I would’ve gotten lost. It didn’t take long for the car to hit bottom, which made it much easier to tell which direction to go.
Geoff helped with that. He grabbed the back of my shirt and hauled me out of the car through the missing windshield. My back proved a blessing in disguise; I couldn’t kick my legs without pain lancing up my spine. Catching my foot on the car’s frame and jerking to free it stunned me, leaving Geoff to make sure I didn’t drown.
Somehow, I remembered I needed to hold my breath.
We surfaced beneath the bridge a few feet from one of the bridge supports, and Geoff hauled me over, waiting until I had a hold on the concrete before releasing me. “In good news, that killed my phone.”
“That’s good news?”
Storm Called Page 25
