Cold Flame

by Susan Copperfield

  “Are all monarchs so colorful?” I whispered to Ethan.

  “We’re people, too, Rachel, no matter how many times your idiot parents tried to convince you otherwise. Mom’s just being Mom. She doesn’t cuss too much at the congress or in public, but in private? Once she gets riled up, all bets are off. She’s just getting started.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  “Only if someone gets the bright idea to crack open some wine. She’s a hugger, and once she gets a hold on you, she won’t let go. You’ll get used to it.”

  I would? “Are you sure?”

  “Very. No is an allowed word. Use it if she starts making you uncomfortable. She won’t mind if you tell her no.”

  “She’s really turning this into a party?”

  “Our physicians strongly discourage fast food, and my mother takes advantage of every opportunity. Expect to witness acts of gluttony, and everyone will participate, even the agents. It’ll be a good time, and it’s important the agents get a chance to meet and observe you. I have the feeling that New York will act through their bounty hunters, and we’ll need all of our agents on guard. We need to remind everyone that your bounty is not worth betraying California over. We may not have your flameweaving talent, but we’re not helpless by any means.”

  “But are you as crazy as a New Yorker?”

  “I certainly hope not. The Royal States doesn’t need any more train wrecks like your parents. I’d say I don’t mean offense, but I really do.”

  “I fantasize about lighting them on fire sometimes,” I admitted.

  “I can’t say I blame you. I’m tempted to do a lot worse to them than lighting them on fire for what they’ve done to you.”

  “It’s okay,” I replied, and the truth of my words helped more than I thought possible.

  “How could it possibly be okay?”

  “Because of them, I’m here now. There’s something to be said for living in the present rather than in the past.” I carried Snookums and Flamingo back to their cage and settled them, leaving Ethan to think it through.

  In the coming days, I expected we’d have a lot of thinking to do.

  Fourteen

  I’m not sure your brothers are impressed with you.

  In addition to fifteen RPS agents, the king and queen, Ethan, and Terry, all three of Ethan’s brothers showed up. Beyond variations in their height and subtle differences in their hair colors, they’d emerged from the cloning vat without incident.

  “Were you the basic model for your brothers, Ethan?”

  He grinned at me. “As the eldest of the lot, I’m required to answer yes. However, they bring offerings of food with them along with their agents, so I’m also required to inform you they received some of my best qualities. But just some, not all. I’m reserving my best qualities for you.”

  Ethan’s brothers sighed, and they ferried countless bags of fast food to my kitchen table. When they ran out of room, they took over the counters.

  “I’m not sure your brothers are impressed with you.”

  “They’re definitely not going to be impressed with me when they have to bicker over who gets to rule California. Thomas? I need you to take over California. In exchange, I’m going to tell the congress they can take their preconceived notions about royal marriage and shove it up their asses. If they don’t agree with me immediately, I’m going to let Rachel sort it out on my behalf.”

  The brother he addressed, a little taller than the rest with his brown hair a few shades darker than Ethan’s, rummaged through the bags before selecting one and bringing it to me. In his other hand, he snagged a white drink cup. “You look like you need more than one milkshake, but this will be a good start. You’re a woman in dire need of chocolate, so it’s a chocolate one. You have to put up with my brother at his worst, so you’re definitely a woman in dire need of chocolate. If I’m wrong about the chocolate, there’s vanilla and strawberry, and I will beg for your forgiveness. My mother taught me to always offer upset women chocolate if I valued my life, which I do.”

  At a complete loss of what else to do, I took the bag and the cup. “Thank you. You’re Thomas?”

  “From the day I was born. Since there’s only one brunette named Rachel I can think of who might tango with our congress, you must be Rachel of New York.”

  “I am.”

  “Nice bounty. You’re going to turn California upside down with it, aren’t you?”

  “It’s your brother’s fault.”

  Thomas’s brows furrowed. “It is?”

  “Nobody would’ve known I was even here if he hadn’t exposed me.”

  “It’s true,” Ethan admitted. “She was doing a very good job of laying low. If I hadn’t made a move, I’d probably still be the only person who knew one of Montana’s agents was a plant keeping an eye on her.”

  As every usable space in my new condo had a body occupying it, I sat down, set my milkshake next to me, and peeked inside the Wendy’s bag. French fries, a paper-wrapped burger, and a box declaring it contained chicken nuggets waited for my attention. Packets of ketchup and five types of nugget sauce littered the bag, too.

  I picked out one of the fries and nibbled on it. Its saltiness startled me, but I found after the first went down without staging an immediate revolt, I wanted another. Using one hand to keep the line of fries going, I popped open the box of nuggets, snagged one, and considered the selection of sauces. I picked the honey, which was likely some concoction disguising itself as honey but would do the job well enough. Realizing I’d done it out of order, I bit onto the nugget and abandoned my fries to tear into the plastic tub.

  “If you take the top wrap off, it’s sticky enough to adhere to the side of the bag, then it won’t make a mess over everything,” Ethan informed me. He grabbed a bag for himself and a milkshake and joined me on the floor. “When you try the hamburger, you can keep it partially wrapped in the paper to contain the drippings.”

  “They drip?”

  “Ketchup, mostly. Grease, too. It’s fast food. It’s not supposed to be elegantly consumed. Enjoy it. Just don’t choke on it.”

  “Is it true you’re taking Ethan back to New York?” Thomas asked.

  “I think he’s planning on following me back to New York, assuming I’m forced to go back. Which is seeming likely, as the bounty out for me is ridiculous. Frankly, Terry should split the bounty with me fifty-fifty. Then I get paid for putting up with that shit.”

  Terry grabbed a McDonald’s bag without checking its contents and sat nearby. “It’s a possibility. I’d have to get clearance to do it, but it’s a possibility. This is only assuming you’re willing.”

  I dipped my nugget in honey, and uncertain of what I was getting my taste buds into, I nibbled on it. Sweet and savory worked for me, and the meat was juicier than I expected. I inhaled the nugget before grabbing a fry and pointing it at my agent. “My parents are insufferable assholes and won’t stop until they get their way. This is fact. I would rather return on my terms—and get paid for it—than do it on their terms and not get paid for it.”

  “You are such a New Yorker,” Ethan announced, and he dug into his bag, pulled out a golden nugget, and offered it to me. “You should try this one and compare it to Wendy’s nuggets.”

  How different could nuggets from two different fast food places be? I accepted the nugget, and as I’d only tried the Wendy’s nugget dipped in honey, I repeated the dipping process and nibbled.

  Huh.

  The nuggets tasted different enough I questioned everything I knew about chicken. Were both actually made of chicken? I took another bite of the nugget and contemplated which one I liked better.

  It took a second Wendy’s nugget for me to decide I preferred the ones from McDonald’s but the ones from Wendy’s would take a close second place. “They’re both good.”

  “But which one is your favorite?”

  I pointed at his bag.

  Ethan grabbed the box of his nuggets, which declared it con
tained ten pieces, and he offered it to me. “If I want more nuggets, I’ll go mug an RPS agent for some.”

  Terry laughed, checked his bag, and gave Ethan a six pack of nuggets. “I don’t like nuggets, so here.”

  “There’s also a few salads if anyone wants them,” Thomas announced, searching through the fast food mayhem in my kitchen until he found an oversized paper bag. He dug out a black plastic salad container and a smaller paper bag and brought it to me. “It’s a Mediterranean salad with crispy chicken; I asked which salad was their best seller and just got that one. They also have an Asian salad, which is also popular. Next time we have a party, we can try that one.”

  I abandoned the fries and the nuggets for the salad, tearing into the paper bag to learn what could be inside. Dressing, utensils, and garlic crisps waited inside. Popping off the top, I dumped the dressing and the crisps inside. The fork didn’t seem all that robust for stirring the salad, but I poked at it and gave it my best effort.

  Ethan pointed at the lid I’d taken off. “It can snap back on, and then you can shake the salad to spread the dressing evenly. I recommend circular motions. It makes everything spin around inside. Just make sure you secure the lid before you start shaking it. The mess is spectacular if you fail to fully close the lid.”

  I set my fork on top of my box of nuggets and went to work puzzling how to secure the lid. After a few tries, I got it to pop back on. Mindful of the warning about making a mess, I pressed my hand against the top of the lid and the bottom of the bowl.

  There was something viscerally satisfying about shaking the salad. As Ethan had suggested circles, I tried that, intrigued at how the dressing tended to clump in the salad. Since circles alone didn’t spread the dressing, I shook it every which way until it appeared edible.

  The effort left me tired and even hungrier. I eased the lid off, scraped rogue pieces of lettuce and feta back into the container where it belonged, and stabbed at the next part of my meal, eager to discover if the salad came anywhere near close to the nuggets and fries.

  To my astonishment, it did.

  My stomach growled its demand for more, and I alternated bites of salad with French fries and nuggets, both plain and dipped in various sauces.

  “We’re going to lose her if she actually tries the milkshake, Ethan,” Thomas said, and he laughed while watching me. “Damn, Rachel. Mom said you’d never had fast food before, but I hadn’t been expecting a feeding frenzy.”

  As I couldn’t eat and talk at the same time, I glared.

  “Don’t taunt hungry women, Thomas. That is how you invite yourself to your own murder. Rachel’s hungry because the refugee program needs a major overhaul. Leave her alone about it. Also, Rachel, try not to make yourself sick. Slow down. The food isn’t going to make its escape. It’s not called fast food because of its ability to flee your possession. Try a sip of your milkshake, unless you’d like a glass of water?”

  I couldn’t remember if I’d ever had a milkshake. It seemed like the kind of thing my parents would’ve hated because it tasted good and they hated rewarding any child who didn’t do exactly what they wanted when they wanted.

  Freeing the straw from its wrapper, I poked it into the hole in the lid and attempted to take a sip.

  The milkshake resisted my efforts.

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’m being tricked, aren’t I?”

  “Move your straw up and down some and give it a swirl. Milkshakes tend to be thick, so they’re a bit of effort to drink with a straw. Honestly, I usually use a spoon.”

  Following his advice rendered sweet, chocolatey results. “Okay. I now understand why people say skinny people need a milkshake. This is decadent.”

  “And loaded with so many calories from sugar you’re going to enter orbit before you crash out. Then Terry and I will help make sure your babies are tended to while you sleep it off.” Ethan laughed and popped a nugget into his mouth. Once he finished chewing and swallowed, he continued, “I think there are a few things we need to accomplish before you work out any plans to have Terry take you back to New York so you can share the bounty earnings.”

  “Like what?”

  “Marriage, for starters. I don’t trust New York’s system. California bars separation of bonded pairs, but New York’s doesn’t. An official marriage, overseen by Montana, would prevent them from being able to try anything. New York has strict rules about divorce among royalty, and they honor the marriage arrangements of all kingdoms in the Royal States. After revoking your detail, you do not have to go through New York’s congress to be married, and Montana can handle any required verifications.”

  I grabbed a nugget, nibbled on it, and turned to Terry.

  My RPS agent shrugged. “It’s sound. Marriage, if you want the lusty prince all to yourself, would significantly simplify matters for you. It plays in with the current trend of young royals securing their choices through any means necessary, too. It would protect you while you go about changing the laws in both California and New York.”

  “We’ll approve the union,” Ethan’s father announced. “I’ll veto the congress on the matter, too, or revoke Ethan’s status as the heir to ensure it’s legalized. His Royal Majesty of Montana would likely be willing to remotely witness the marriage. We could have all the documentation done by tomorrow morning.”

  “Afternoon. If Rachel’s willing, we’ll take the prepared documentation to the congress and have it officiated with the entire lot of them as witnesses. That’ll complicate matters for you, Terry. It becomes a more serious matter if you’re kidnapping the consort of a crowned heir.”

  “It’s already complicated. Technically, it will be the marriage of two crowned heirs,” Terry replied. “Rachel’s status as the crowned heir takes effect the instant she crosses back into New York. There’s also the issue of the New York monarchs refusing to pay out on the bounty. That wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “I should kidnap myself and demand the payment for my safe return.” I would, too. Maybe I didn’t make a good New Yorker, but I’d learned a few of my parents’ tricks. “I could do it. I’d just tell them they can pay me or I’ll just up and leave again, and I’ll take the man I caught with me. Then again, not a single one of them would ever believe there’s a man interested in me. They really won’t believe I’m capable.”

  “I think I’d prefer to have New York come and beg for you.” Ethan snagged a fry, popped it into his mouth, and chomped. “It’s been a while since we’ve formally invited New York to California. Hey, Mom?”

  “I don’t want those assholes in my house, Ethan.”

  “It’s a good chance to get some payback. Don’t even try to lie to me, Mom. You’ve been itching for a chance to get back at New York.”

  “Every time wildfire season starts,” the queen muttered. “All right. What are you thinking about?”

  “We keep Rachel’s presence here under wraps as long as we can. I’ll marry her as soon as she agrees, and we’ll start working with her doctors on therapy. When we can’t hide her anymore, you’ll ‘invite’ the New York monarchs over to discuss the situation. We’ll present Rachel, obviously material to be a queen, to them as my wife. And I’ll maintain my place as the heir until this is over. That’ll give Thomas time to figure out what he’s going to do or if he’ll hoodwink someone else into taking the job.”

  “If you cut the congress’s crap about me picking a woman of their choice, I’ll take the job. It’s not like I haven’t been aware I might have to replace you in case of an accident. This is better than an accident. She’s cute, and if a woman stares at me like she stares at you, I’ll have it made. I’d ask if she had a sister, but I know she does, and they’re awful. Sorry, Rachel.”

  “They’re awful. You’re just telling the truth. I am sorry they’re so awful.”

  “Ethan, are you going to beat me up if I say something nice about your woman?”

  “No, but I’ll battle with the congress on your behalf if you convince her a single nice thing
you tell her is true,” Ethan countered.

  Terry sighed.

  “It’s not his fault he’s right, Terry. I’m not exactly the easiest person to get along with. I’m a New Yorker. We’re bred that way. Then add in the fact I’m a bad New Yorker, and it just gets worse from there. But I am trying.”

  “Rachel,” Ethan complained. “There’s nothing wrong with you, and there’s nothing wrong with you being a New Yorker.”

  According to every RPS agent and royal crammed into my condominium, Ethan had lost his mind. I gestured to everyone who knew him. “There’s so much wrong with me being a New Yorker we’d be here for months trying to list everything. Also, there’s so much wrong with me I need several doctors to sort this mess out. I’m okay with that.”

  “You’re okay with just about everything, though.”

  “It’s a base requirement for survival.” I shrugged at my open acknowledgment of the truth. “When your parents would rather drown you because you’re not good enough, you’re not bred properly, and you’re not pretty enough to make up for the rest of your faults, you learn to sit down, shut up, and cope with it. Some people view their magic as their power, but mine’s patience. I’ll outlive the bastards, and there’s no way in hell I’m handling their burial arrangements.” Then, understanding I opened a can of worms, I added, “Sylvia was a product of her upbringing, and that’s not her fault.”

  “Despite everything, she was your sister.” Ethan shook his head. “No, the most remarkable thing is that you defied the circumstances of your upbringing. Anyone with a functioning pair of eyes can tell you’re a good person, and I’ll tell you that every day if I must.”