Cold Flame

by Susan Copperfield

  “It is the one thing everyone agrees on: none of them believe you’ll return home without a forceful invitation.”

  My family would drive me crazy long before I received Californian citizenship. “Don’t I just have to keep doing what I’m doing, then? There are how many Rachels in California?”

  “Not just California, as no one has yet realized you’re in California. The Royal States has approximately half a million women named Rachel.”

  “Well, that’ll slow the bastards down somewhat.”

  “With that large of a bounty, you’ll be searched for in every kingdom. It’s inevitable.”

  I considered my options, which were few and far between. “I could leave California, reapply as a refugee, and change my name to something other than Rachel.”

  “That wouldn’t work.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Facial recognition scanners, first of all. Your ship is sunk if California does a facial recognition scan and compares it to the database of missing members of royalty. It’s a very short list. Right now, it consists of only you.”

  “That list sucks, and I want to be removed from it, please.”

  “Only New York can authorize the removal of your name from the list.”

  “They fucking disowned me. They shouldn’t get to claim I’m missing.”

  “You had your detail revoked. You were not, technically, fully disowned. It was more of a temporary suspension. That leads to our next problem.”

  No. I did not need more problems. I had enough problems already. “Can we stick to the reasons people think I should be heir for the moment? So far, it contains blatant stupidity.”

  Terry chuckled. “That’s only a matter of your opinion. It isn’t a stupid reason. Prince Ian has actually done extensive research into the subject. Your education is the best in the New York royal family. You’re definitely the smartest of the royals. I pulled your testing records for the refugee entry exam.”

  “Oh? You did? How did I do?”

  “You got a perfect score.”

  Hah. “I studied.”

  “You’re the only person to ever get a perfect score on the exam, Rachel.”

  “It’s not my fault others didn’t study.”

  “You wandered around the Royal States for years, where studying is not a simple feat, roamed to California, and aced the hardest test in the entirety of the Royal States on the first try. That is a remarkable accomplishment.”

  “Book smarts doesn’t mean I’ll be a good ruler.”

  “You’re compassionate. This is a rather rare trait in New York.”

  I scowled at the truth of that. “Please tell me no one is actually saying that.”

  “Why is this a bad thing?”

  I pointed at myself. “I’m a New Yorker. I have a reputation to maintain.”

  “You’re terrible at maintaining your New Yorker reputation. You may as well accept it. You’re too nice to pass as a New Yorker, you work harder than most expect from a New Yorker, and you’ve somehow erased your accent.”

  “It’s hard to wander around when you sound like you came fresh out of the Bronx while armed with excessive coffee and an attitude problem.”

  “While that’s true, I’m still impressed you’ve completely adapted your speech patterns.”

  “I started young.” While my parents thought having a New York twang classified as a matter of honor, I’d preferred eliminating the language difficulties when speaking to someone from abroad. Given the choice of eliminating my accent as much as possible or repeating myself a zillion times to be understood, I’d always go with being understood the first time.

  Many of my life choices involved doing the opposite of what my parents would do. The way I figured it, if I kept on doing that, I’d get through life as a decent person rather than a menace.

  “That’s something that hadn’t occurred to me. But yes, people outside of the upper castes have taken notice of your general behavior. It gives people pause when they think about the situation.”

  “You mean with Sylvia.” It amazed me how my sister’s greed had turned the Royal States upside down. A cascade of change had erupted from her actions.

  Royals currently enjoyed an escape from arranged marriages. In most kingdoms, nulls had risen an entire caste level—or had become revered as a source of potential. Talents and powers, little by little, made way for other things, including compassion and common sense.

  “I do mean with your sister,” Terry replied. “Perhaps she earned a punishment, but I find it to be a tragedy she left this life utterly alone. No one else would accept her from your family. Only you.”

  I wondered how my siblings had taken our sister’s death. “I wonder why Ian refused. Do you know?”

  “I do, but I’m not sure you’ll like the answer.”

  Shaking my head, I bought myself some time sipping my tea. “I don’t like a lot of things, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t know the truth.”

  “He believed you would do a better job. That is his official reason for refusing—or so his file says.”

  Bastard. “I can’t light Ian on fire, can I?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “A light scorching?”

  “Once again, I’m afraid not.”

  “This is oppression.”

  “If you attempt to light him on fire, it would be rather obvious who you are.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Rachel, you can’t light your brother on fire.”

  “How about my parents?”

  “You definitely can’t light them on fire.”

  “Are you sure? I’d be doing the world a favor.”

  “I’m sure.” Terry laughed and shook his head. “You’re something else. An important factor in Prince Ian’s campaign to make you the heir is a matter of perspective. Unlike the rest of your family, you’ve been living among lower-caste people for years. You have a unique view of what’s required to survive without wealth, power, or rank helping you. Considering the success of having low-caste individuals elevated to various monarchies, Prince Ian believes New York will benefit from your insights.”

  Rather than immediately shooting down my brother’s belief, I took my time to think about it. King Patrick of Texas had been from a lower caste; Queen Jessica enjoyed reminding people about how he’d been missed during evaluations. Queen Mackenzie of Montana had classified as the lowest of the low.

  Both of them had changed the world, and they’d started with their home kingdoms. Their partners had done heavy lifting on the human rights front, too. New York needed to be registered as a general human rights violation, as money came first. Always.

  Somehow, everyone seemed to forget that a kingdom was only as strong as its weakest caste.

  I remembered trips into the city, to the places my parents wanted to forget existed, where the homeless outnumbered everyone else, and they’d formed communities just so they could survive.

  “Well, I can tell you who would benefit if I was named heir, and a lot of people wouldn’t like me because of it.”

  The RPS agent raised a brow. “Who?”

  “The homeless and unemployed. I’d be stealing from California’s refugee system,” I admitted. “Blatantly stealing from it. In fact, I might have to steal one of the Californian royals. I’d be able to interrogate them for additional information. The monarchs have a few spares, right?”

  “You want to steal one of the princes? To interrogate him for additional information? On California’s general policies.” For a long time, Terry stared at me. “I couldn’t have heard you correctly.”

  “What? If you want to learn the inner workings of a kingdom, you run off with a prince or princess. Even the ones not in line for the throne tend to know how their kingdom functions. You just have to ask the right questions. California has a few extras, right?”

  “California has four princes.”

  “That means they have extras. They won’t miss one.”


  “California’s royal family is rather close, Rachel. They would miss one of their princes.”

  I frowned. “Really? They have three extras. It’s just one prince. I’d give him back in mostly the same condition once I finished with him. But I’d need to fully interrogate him for good intel before returning him.”

  “You can’t kidnap a Californian prince to interrogate him for information on how California is run.”

  “Then how am I supposed to get the information I need?”

  “You’ll be working at the California Royal Archive. Research it during your breaks.”

  I frowned. “Well, my assignment is to do a comparative research report about pre-war governance and the consequences of adopting such governances in modern times. I suppose I could use some of that research.” With the tablet belonging to me and not the California Royal Archive, I could mix pleasure and work, too. “I’m being partially compensated for my phone and tablet, since I’ll be using them for work. They said they’d provide me with a laptop.”

  “Is there a reason you can’t buy your own laptop?”

  “I’m poor.”

  “You are not poor, Rachel. I know how much is in your personal account. I helped you secure your private funds.”

  “Those funds are corrupted.”

  “Rachel, your money is not corrupted. Frankly, you’re likely owed more money from the royal family, but you’d have to go to New York to claim it.”

  “No.”

  “While I expected you to say that, you can use the bank card at will. The ping on the withdrawals comes to me, and while it’s registered in the Montana RPS system, His Royal Majesty of Montana would blow a gasket if any of his agents sold you out to New York. No one in Montana’s RPS is stupid enough to report you to New York. There are a limited number of people who have access to bank account usage pings. And since your account is based in Montana through the RPS, technically, not even the bank is aware of who you are.”

  I had noticed the card only had a number on it. “That explains why you need to help if I lose the card.”

  “It’s a layer of protection for you, yes.”

  “So, my idiot brother is behind this bounty?”

  “At the heart of it, yes. While I’m sure you don’t appreciate his efforts, it’s been a masterful manipulation on his part. According to his file, he is interested in a woman, and if he remains the heir, he won’t be able to pursue her. New York would bar it. This is also a problem for you; they will pressure you for an acceptable union with someone they feel will promote the family’s talent.”

  “Can I take the lusty prince with a probable empathy problem? He was cute.”

  Terry heaved a sigh. “Rachel, take this seriously.”

  “I am. He saw me without makeup and still wanted me. Without any makeup, Terry. I’ve been in California long enough to recognize I am so far from conventional beauty I make people cringe.”

  “You’re an attractive woman, Rachel.”

  Stupid RPS agent, doing his job and trying to make me feel better about my status as an incurable loner. “Not here I’m not.”

  “It’s your severe case of resting bitch face. They see your expression, and they instinctively understand you will destroy them if they annoy you.”

  I blinked. “My what?”

  “Resting bitch face. When you aren’t smiling, it looks like you’re about thirty seconds from taking over the world, and according to your expression, you will not take any prisoners. That’s resting bitch face. I do believe your lusty prince finds resting bitch face to be attractive. And challenging. Bored princes usually want challenges, and he’s rather bored.”

  “He’s still single?”

  “I do believe he’s driving himself partially insane trying to find the attractive woman who was seated in the back row at the wedding. I’ve been approached several times about you.”

  “By the lusty prince?”

  “His RPS agents.”

  “Why his RPS agents?”

  “You’re a woman. He’s a probable but unconfirmed leech. He has mentioned you repeatedly to his RPS agents following the wedding. You caught his attention.”

  Today was turning out to be a good day. “And he likes the funeral look. I should keep dressing like that so I’m easier to spot.”

  “That’s not how this works, Rachel. Lust at first sight is not a reason to marry someone.”

  “It could work. I mean, we’re talking about me here, Terry. Lust at first sight is basically the best I’m going to get. I’m a New Yorker. That makes me brash and unpleasant by default.”

  “Her Royal Majesty of Montana happens to be a New Yorker, and while she can be brash, she’s rarely unpleasant. She’s a hard worker, and she’s a very compassionate individual. Her Royal Majesty of Alaska also happens to be a New Yorker, and she, too, can be brash but is a hardworking, compassionate woman.”

  “Those would be reasons they are married instead of eternally single like me. I define brash. Check your dictionary. You’ll see my face there, proudly on display—with makeup.”

  “That would be the missing persons record.”

  “You are a sassy RPS agent. Who taught you to be so sassy?”

  “The RPS.”

  “And you said my sarcasm was in good form. Let’s discuss my plan to kidnap a Californian prince for a questioning session. Interrogation style. It seems relevant if my idiot family is going to pay a stupid amount of money to have me brought home.”

  “Why do you want to kidnap a Californian prince when you can research the information you need from the archive?”

  “I’m a refugee in California with no actual life and a bounty. I may as well have fun with this. Also, for the record, when wildfire seasons starts next month, I’m planning to stretch my legs and see how effective I am. They kept putting me places that weren’t on fire.”

  “You’re a flameweaver, Rachel. They don’t want you places where things can catch on fire. That was a deliberate effort on their part to prevent any accidents. California is heavily prejudiced against flameweavers for good reason.”

  “It’s not my fault they don’t train their flameweavers properly.”

  Terry sipped his coffee, and I was willing to bet the entire contents of my bank account he fought his urge to sigh. “You could light the entire kingdom on fire if you wanted.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a good way to go, honestly. I’m probably the one flameweaver on the planet who practices trying to light water on fire.”

  “Have you succeeded?”

  “Well, my showers are pretty nice and steamy despite living in apartment complexes that don’t believe in hot water heaters or baths.”

  “Your apartment only has a shower, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s a challenge heating up water when you’re a flameweaver, Terry. It’s like showers are torture sessions.”

  “And since you need to use your talent, you’re stuck doing it.”

  “Exactly. I’d rather not spontaneously combust. I hope someone has given you all of the warnings about what will happen should I spontaneously combust.”

  “I’d probably be close enough to you it wouldn’t matter. I’d be flash fried along with you.”

  “They start giving us learning control lessons from the instant we have base comprehension trying to prevent us from spontaneously combusting. I had a brother who combusted. Fortunately for us, he didn’t take anyone out with him when he went. He hated his lessons, didn’t pay attention to them, and paid the price for it.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that situation. These circumstances are why so many of the New York royal family stay out of the spotlight until older. Few are aware there was a prince who combusted. I was informed of the situation because His Royal Majesty of Montana didn’t want to assign me to a dangerous detail without full disclosure.”

  “Dangerous is a gentle way to put it.”

  “It’s been educational. First, you’re remarkably good at survival. I’m very
impressed with your general ingenuity. I am concerned about your lack of social interactions with others, however.”

  “Between my face and my status as a refugee, I may as well be plagued. Add in that I’m a flameweaver?” I snorted, a rather unladylike sound, but I didn’t care. Terry could cope with my impolite behavior. “It’ll be better once my five years are up and I can get citizenship. Then I’m just another Californian with a resting bitch face problem, apparently. I just thought I was ugly as hell and scared people.”

  “You scare people, but it’s not because you’re ugly. It’s because you have a presence.”

  “A presence?”

  “It’s something a lot of royals cultivate. They expect to be noticed. In your case, you don’t want to be noticed but are noticed anyway, so your body language essentially screams you want to be left alone and you’ll take steps if you’re bothered.”

  “I’m really good at lighting things on fire.”

  “You shouldn’t advertise that.”

  “I don’t. But I do say I’m a flameweaver if asked.”

  “Do me a favor and claim you’re something other than a flameweaver.”

  “But I’m a flameweaver.”

  “Claim you’re an illusionist and create a cold flame for any demonstrations. Your status just requires some form of manifestation, and generally, people don’t have access to your talent report.”

  “But that would be lying.”

  “And that leads me to the next reason Prince Ian believes you’re a good candidate to be the heir. You have ethics, and no one had to beat them into you.”

  “I feel like I should protest that. My family isn’t that bad.”

  According to Terry’s expression, he thought I’d lost my mind. “Yet you would rather go through five years of immigration hell to avoid them.”

  “When you put it that way, I suppose I do think they’re that bad.”

  “Family loyalty is an admirable trait, but everyone has come to the general conclusion New York has major ethics issues in the royal family. It’s improved. Instead of no ethics, it’s been questionable ethics lately, but I’m of the opinion Prince Ian may be onto something with his suggestion you’re the best fit. You’ve experienced what life is really like for the average person. And, in your current situation, life as a lower-caste person. I assure you, average people don’t live in closets.”