Cold Flame

by Susan Copperfield

  Ethan’s RPS agent grinned. “I caught a cold from traveling, Your Highness.”

  “So you claim. The stress fatigue had nothing to do with your compromised immune system. At all.”

  I gave up. No matter where I went in my new home, I couldn’t escape the insanity. At the rate things were going, I would wake up and discover I’d dreamed the whole thing.

  If I went into the living room, I’d make a mess of things sooner, which would put me out of my misery faster. Gathering my courage, I joined Terry. “I’m sorry for the trouble, Your Majesties.”

  Her Royal Majesty of California sneezed, and after she finished assaulting her nose with a tissue, she smiled. “Are you sure you’re actually a New Yorker?”

  “According to my flameweaving talent, it’s probable.”

  “Maybe we should have you DNA tested. You’re obviously too polite and sweet to be your father’s daughter. I’ve met your sisters. They’re…”

  The silence suffocated. When I couldn’t bear it anymore, I said, “Awful.”

  “I was looking for something politer, but essentially, that’s correct. Your brother is better than most.”

  “Why does everyone like Ian, Terry?” I hated whining, but how could Ian have grown up to be the royal everyone liked? Damned sorcerous brother.

  He must’ve cast some foul spell, charming everyone.

  “Empathy, which happens to be the same reason everyone likes you.”

  “Nobody knows me.”

  Ethan rose from the table, carrying his kittens, which he placed in my arms. Once certain I had a hold on both of the wiggling beasts, he went into the pet room, returning shortly with Snookums and Flamingo. Once my rats were safe on my shoulders, he retrieved his kittens.

  I made it halfway through giving my rats their owed kisses before I realized the clever bastard had derailed my dive into self-loathing and general regret for the circumstances of my life.

  Terry took a position near the entry. “As you aren’t empaths, Your Majesties, His Royal Highness recognized Her Royal Highness’s sensitive state and retrieved her rats, the only solution he currently has for when something upsets her. She’s sensitive, and her sensitivity is why I sent for Dr. Stanton.”

  “By sensitive, he means I’m a mess,” I translated. “I’m all right with admitting that. It’s certainly true.”

  Ethan grunted and sat on the arm of my new couch beside his father. “You’re fine, Rachel.”

  “You’re a prince with a lust problem, so I’m not sure you’re qualified to determine if someone else is fine.” I gave Snookums and Flamingo more kisses on their noses before heading to their supplies. While I disliked rewarding them with their base food, I also didn’t want to give them other treats until they had a chance to settle and I could make them exercise properly to burn off the excess I’d already fed them.

  Neither seemed to mind, holding onto their food cube and nibbling as though I’d never fed them before.

  The Californian prince frowned. “You usually give them carrots or a nut.”

  “They’ve gotten a lot of treats today, so they’re getting their regular food. I don’t want my furry stomachs with legs to need to exercise like fiends for a full week recovering from an act of owner-induced gluttony. They’ll have to use their wheel a lot to make up for it as it is.”

  “She’s a doting rat parent,” the prince informed his parents.

  “Therapy rats for her, therapy kittens for you, and a shared therapy dog for both of you?” Her Royal Majesty of California heaved a sigh. “The palace is going to be overrun with animals. It’s going to be like Montana, but it’ll be worse, because I’ll be sneezing for all eternity.”

  “You could just take your allergy medicine.”

  “I hate that crap.”

  “And I love my kittens.” To make it clear the Californian monarchs had lost the war before the first battle, Ethan lifted Doomsday up and kissed her nose, just like I kissed my rats. The kitten purred and reached for his cheeks for more attention.

  Armageddon pounced the king and attacked his shirt.

  “For the record, you pulled stunts like this as a child.” The king regarded the kitten on his lap with an arched brow. “This is revenge for all the times we told you no, isn’t it?”

  “Since ‘your house, your rules’ applies, I moved to a house with better rules. Also, the rules in this house don’t try to force me into unwanted marriages.”

  In that, Ethan and I were birds of a feather. The rules in New York hadn’t suited me, so I’d left.

  I’d just departed with a hair more extremism and a lot less civility.

  Then again, the second half of his statement could be taken as a declaration of war. I considered the pair of monarchs. Had they been my parents, they would’ve already reduced Ethan to a smoking pile of ash, bone, and teeth for daring to question their reign.

  “While you have a point, before the situation of a bond came up, it wasn’t a household rule. It was a congressional rule.”

  “And I’m still a human being who should not be forced into any marriage for the sake of their political gain. It would be nice if my parents remembered they didn’t breed pawns in a game of global chess but rather living, breathing children.” Ethan placed Doomsday on his lap and petted her, challenging his parents with a subtle tilt of his head and a lifted brow. “Treating children like chess pieces you can add to the game at your whim is a bullshit practice, by the way. If you’re having children for the sake of continuing political power, perhaps that’s the wrong reason to be having children.”

  His mother shrugged. “It’s not that simple, Ethan.”

  “It’s only not that simple because you’ve let the congress convince you they have more power over your reproductive system than you do. As it seems like you’ve forgotten, you can name any successor you wish, and there are even laws in the books that will allow the monarchs to overrule the congress on the matter. There’s zero excuse. Montana has managed to eradicate Dark Age practices in its kingdom. Texas has managed to eradicate Dark Age practices in its kingdom. North Dakota needed a civil war to do it, but they managed, too. You would think the most education-centric kingdom in the Royal States would be able to manage it without needing to show the world they’re a card-carrying member of the Drama States.”

  “I really wish that hadn’t been coined,” Ethan’s mother complained.

  “But it’s true. I suggest you quietly go to the congress in a closed session and fix it. While you’re at it, demand changes to the refugee system. It’s out of hand, and if we’re treating the only damned person to ace the exam like shit, those who scored lower are probably in even worse health. We’re supposed to be a compassionate kingdom, not taking advantage of underpaid labor in abhorrent conditions.”

  “It’s not that bad,” the queen protested.

  Ethan placed Doomsday on his father’s lap, got up, picked me up by my waist, and relocated me the center of my new living room, setting me down in front of his parents on the other side of the coffee table. “She weights ninety-two fucking pounds!” To further demonstrate his point, he snatched the side of my blouse and bunched it up so it hugged my stomach. “What part of this looks healthy to you? She was living in an apartment smaller than my fucking closet, and the only luxury she had was her pet rats. Explain to me how that is fair and humane conditions. I’ll wait. I’ll be waiting a long damned time because there is zero excuse for this. Nulls in every damned kingdom in the Drama States are treated better than our refugees. Or would you like to wait until Rachel weighs eighty pounds for you to get the point?”

  I took a moment to examine how my blouse clung to me. “To be fair, I’m not exactly heavy set to begin with. But my weight is a little low. Who told you my weight, anyway?”

  “I lift ninety-five pounds most days of the week at the gym. You weigh less than my regular weights, but you weigh more than my eighty-five pound set. I guessed at ninety-two.”

  “Terry? How much
do I actually weigh again? I seem to have forgotten in the insanity that was my testing today.”

  “Ninety-three, barely,” my RPS agent reported.

  “My point stands. If we’re treating our most valuable refugee like this, then we’re a showcase of human rights violations. Unless you’re modeling our kingdom like New York on purpose?”

  Had I actually harbored any pride in my home kingdom, I might’ve been tempted to light a fire under Ethan’s ass for the insult, but I couldn’t find any flaws in his statement. “I recommend against modeling your kingdom after New York. New York produces people like me and my brothers and sisters. By definition, New Yorkers aren’t exactly the easiest people on Earth to get along with.”

  “You’re an exception,” Ethan announced. “And however much Ian annoys me at times, so is he. You’re the better exception, though.”

  Ethan would, given a week or so, drive me crazier. “I’ve figured out you’re biased.”

  “It’s a good kind of biased.”

  “Being serious, you really should make certain California doesn’t model most of its practices off New York. Modeling the New York economic sector is probably wise, although you’ll want to bar the more obvious human rights violations—or at least improve on those at a slight loss of profit. There’s sufficient evidence proving a better paid lower class has more money for general luxuries, so any losses incurred from paying higher wages is typically earned back in more people being able to purchase luxury items. And don’t get me started on poorly-operated businesses who blame paying their employees fairly for their failures.”

  “I’ve noticed Rachel can be, when invited, rather vocal and opinionated. I like it.”

  The lusty prince needed to stop being nice. Someone being nice confused me. To cover my uncertainty, I showered my rats with more attention.

  “Her Royal Highness has no idea how to process positive attention,” my RPS agent informed the Californian monarchs. “Dr. Stanton was interested in seeing how well she might integrate with your family, as it will be difficult for her to adjust to a positive home environment. With His Royal Highness’s general sensitivity towards her, if his agents aren’t trained in how to handle budding empaths with no control over what they’re sending or receiving, I recommend you contact Montana and North Dakota for advice and possibly temporary agents.”

  Ethan’s mother frowned, and her eyes narrowed. “Will Ethan require a support dog as well, Agent Pattens?”

  “I’ll leave any treatment plans to professionals, Your Majesty. Her Royal Highness would benefit from one, especially in situations where she can’t take her rats with her. A therapy feline might be a better choice if you can find a suitable individual and an animal empath who can handle the training.”

  “A therapy feline?” the queen blurted. “What on Earth is a therapy feline?”

  “Her Royal Highness is rather talented with wild animals. A large feline might be an excellent partner for her and serve as a secondary bodyguard.”

  It occurred to me that my RPS agent was taking California’s queen on a wild ride, yanking her chain for the fun of it. I chomped on my lower lip to keep from laughing.

  He winked at me.

  The king caught on next, and he laughed, picking up Doomsday and mimicking the way Ethan and I kissed our pets. The kitten purred and rewarded the king with her love. “We’re being had by an RPS agent, love. Give them what they want, and either deal with the allergies or take the medication. Same goes for me, too. We’ve made the mistake of putting our comfort over our children, and it’s time to pay the piper for it. If her doctor says she gets a lion to protect her, then I guess she gets a lion. Or a dog. Or an entire flock of rats.”

  “Pack. Family groups of rats are called packs.”

  “Like wolves?” the king asked.

  I nodded.

  “Make the arrangements, Agent Pattens. In the meantime, I’ll have a suite prepared at the palace available for her use, but until we can figure out how to prevent New York from interfering, this condominium is probably the safest place for her. Ethan, I’m assuming you’re going to be wandering off at your leisure as usual. You do still have responsibilities to California until I can discuss the situation with your brothers. I already know who I’m giving the nod to, but I’d prefer if he figured it out on his own. I will follow your advice and pull the plug on the congress’s pressuring. That said, I’m sacrificing you on the altar of the cause. If you want a New Yorker, have her if she’ll have you, but you get to fight the battles. We’ll sign the documentation, but making change is on you.”

  For a long moment, silence reigned. Then, the import of the king’s words settled in.

  Power could be taken. Power could be given.

  California’s king handed over the reins of their kingdom’s future to his son, who would in turn would hand them over to one of his brothers. For a short period of time, Ethan would become change in California. The consequences of his actions would become a daily part of our lives—and part of the lives of every citizen of New York.

  California’s citizens would also face consequences for Ethan’s actions even though he wouldn’t be ruling them.

  Why did anyone want to become a king or queen?

  No one needed so much power over so many lives.

  What I knew of history claimed society would always have people who held power over others, and all we could do was make certain the right people held the reins and guided the herd of galloping horses in the right direction.

  It rarely worked well for the weak or slower horses in the herd unless the strongest stood their ground for their sakes.

  In the wild, the herds that thrived protected each other, for an entire herd of angry horses could drive off most predators and emerge the victors. The predators won when they separated individuals from the safety of others.

  In the Royal States of America, the herds hadn’t figured out how to protect the weakest members. I wondered if we ever would.

  We did a good job of forgetting what we couldn’t change and neglecting to change what we could because it might cost us something down the road.

  People sucked.

  “If that’s what it takes, so be it.” Ethan claimed his kittens from his father. “I’ll stage a takeover of congress tomorrow.”

  “I recommend you take your princess with you, and should they protest overly much, she can stake her claim however she sees fit.” The king smirked, and his attention focused on me. “Rachel, do try to limit how many people you burn tomorrow. Ideally, you’ll do a New Yorker demonstration using your tongue rather than your talent. I expect you have a few good barbs in your collection to use against them. I recommend you use the lines you used on me, as they’re rather effective. And shaming.”

  “You’re inviting me, a New Yorker, to a congressional session?”

  “While throwing out the rules overseeing refugees in the face of my congress.” The king smirked. “I think I’ll rather enjoy the session, especially when Ethan discloses the bounty on you, the security risks inherent in protecting you, and his empathic bond. The congress will have a meltdown. It’ll take Ethan no more than an hour to change decades of tradition. Watch carefully. This is how change happens, and you’re the one who will make change happen. I won’t deny you’ve suffered at the hands of Californian law. It’s obvious. You’re rail thin and look ready to break at the lightest touch. Has Ethan fed you dinner yet?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, why the hell not, Ethan?”

  “You showed up.”

  Both the king and queen snorted, and I clapped my hands over my mouth to keep my giggles to myself. “It’s okay. I’m used to waiting.”

  “That’s not a good thing, Rachel,” Ethan muttered. “What do you want for dinner? Since the royal goons here interrupted my plan to feed you sooner than later, I’ll make them make arrangements for dinner. Anything you want, and I’ll make sure they make it happen. It might mean a trip to the palace, but tha
t’s fine. We can take your babies with us if needed.”

  The first thing to pop into my head was the burger joint everyone seemed to like but had always cost too much for me to try. “You know that burger place that looks like an old diner?”

  Ethan lifted a hand and rubbed a temple. “You’re going to request fast food, aren’t you?”

  “Everyone talks about it, but I’ve never had it before. I’ve never had McDonald’s or Wendy’s or any of those places, either. It just wasn’t done. And even when I was on the road, I’d never gone. It always seemed too expensive.”

  Everyone stared at me, and I sighed.

  “Okay. Fast food it is. Mom? Want to send one of your agents out? Get a little of everything. There’s no way to know what she’ll like until she tries it. I won’t tell our physicians if you don’t.”

  “If this goes to my hips, you’re a dead man, Ethan,” his mother warned, hopping to her feet and strolling for the door. “We’re supposed to feed the agents every now and then, too, so we’ll just make it a party. I’ll call in a few helpers to cover the agents while they get to know Rachel, too. Agent Pattens?”

  “Your Majesty?”

  “Get on the horn with your boss. I swear, if I have to assemble a detail for the poor girl myself, I’ll go over there and knock heads together—or call Hawaii.”

  “There is the issue of New York,” my agent replied.

  “New York can kiss my pretty white ass. If they want the girl and my boy, they’ll have to come over here and beg, and I look forward to listening to those two assholes beg. And mark my words, Agent Pattens. There will be begging, and it will all be entirely for Rachel’s benefit.” Ethan’s mother yanked open the door and bellowed, “Aaliyah! I have a culinary emergency. Her Royal Highness has never had fast food. Divide, conquer, and bring back something from everywhere nearby, and bring over enough for the whole team. We’re having a fast food party here so everyone can get a feel for Her Royal Highness. Inform the off-duty agents that their bonus for handling an extra shift will be their regular hours plus a thousand dollars for being inconvenienced on short notice. I also need a list of volunteers who are willing to temporarily transfer to my boy’s detail and possibly her detail. We have a situation, and I’ll elaborate during the party.”