Huntress

by Susan Copperfield

  “Is this formal year notice in writing?” I asked.

  “Montana drew it up on your behalf. It’s awaiting your signature.” Meredith stepped away from the door, picked up a briefcase, and handed it to Dr. Hampford. “There are conditions for your full reinstatement as the heir, guidelines for you leaving the kingdom should you not be reinstated, and conditions for the extension. I’ve read over it. It’s sane. It lays out your royal responsibilities until the first day of spring, at which time you’ll absolved of all such duties due to the circumstances of your talent. It will resume again on the first day of summer and hold until either an extension is approved or you leave the kingdom. Due to the circumstances, Montana has proposed that there will be an exemption of status loss, and he will personally review proposals for you to join another royal family. The circumstances of your talent will be made known to your adoptive family, so in the worst-case scenario, you will have a suitable caretaker. His Royal Majesty of Montana is insistent you will be treated with dignity.”

  “I’ve made quite the mess, I see,” I mumbled.

  “You were sick, stressed, and exhausted. Add in a serious case of provocation, and no one in the RPS is surprised the situation escalated as it did. Christian told everyone you’d notified His Majesty of the possibility of abdication. You’re at no fault for following through.” Meredith returned to her post near the door. “I believe the two days you spent in critical condition in ICU sufficiently corrected misconceptions regarding the severity of the situation.”

  Dr. Hampford cleared her throat. “I feel it’s important you understand that your hike into a park only sped your illness. It’s probable your condition would’ve deteriorated to critical in the span of several days to a week at most.”

  “Damned cold.”

  “Viral pneumonia,” she corrected. “All things considered, should I authorize your release for tomorrow, it’s strongly recommended you stay in bed for the vast majority of the time, else you’ll be back here in intensive care again.” Dr. Hampford set the briefcase at my feet, opened it, and offered a thick stack of paper to me along with a pen. “Read this and sign if you agree to the terms.”

  Like the well-trained gopher I so often was, I did as told.

  Instead of escaping from the hospital in the morning as Dr. Hampford hoped, I spent two weeks in the hospital battling setback after setback, most of them involving my lungs. Meredith upheld the family visitation ban, not that I was in any condition to care if anyone visited. I spent as much time in ICU as not.

  It took Dr. Hampford a week to discover the cause of my illnesses and the reason for my slow recovery year after year. Unbeknownst to me, I’d been fighting against an immune disorder, and in a lucky roll of the dice, I’d developed one she could cure rather than combat with treatments. It took a specialist with the right talent and a volunteer to donate a substantial amount of bone marrow to replace my defective marrow so it would stop producing cells preventing my immune system from functioning properly.

  To ensure my body didn’t replace the donated bone marrow with defective cells, the first stage was to purge my body of as much of my natural marrow as possible, a painful procedure destined to keep me in the hospital for at least a month. Only after the faulty cells were killed off to Dr. Hampford’s satisfaction was the donor’s marrow introduced into my body.

  It hurt like hell from start to finish, and I spent the month in the hospital in a special ward typically reserved for chemotherapy patients to prevent me from catching any illnesses I’d be unable to fight until the donor’s marrow was established and confirmed to have taken root in my bones with the assistance of magic.

  The procedure worked, and in what I counted as a miracle, I graduated from the hospital to bedrest at a nearby hotel with frequent visits to the hospital for monitoring.

  Seventy-eight days following my initial hospitalization, Meredith delivered the good news: I was free and clear to resume my normal life on a light regime with monthly checkups. “If you were going to relapse, you would’ve done so by now.” My agent smiled at me, and I wondered if she ever slept—or if another agent stood in for her while I slept.

  Probably the latter.

  Meredith liked reassuring me she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, something I appreciated.

  “In better news, I have one hell of a medical file supporting the probationary period, which reminds me. No one has told me how the congress reacted to the filings.”

  “It was entertaining. It’s been recorded for your enjoyment if you’d like to watch the sessions regarding your condition. Montana thought it’d be wise if everything was handled in as open a fashion as possible, and as you were physically unable to attend any of the sessions, they were recorded for your review. I delivered the documentation when you were in surgery preparing for your transplant.”

  “Do you ever sleep?” If she didn’t, I’d worry—and I’d have to find some way to contact Christian to get her some help so I wouldn’t lose her before the year ended.

  “I do. Please don’t worry, Your Highness. I’ve had assistance with my duties; I’ve brought in a few friends from Texas and Hawaii, and we’ve begun building a proper detail for you. Everyone hired has read a copy of your transitional paperwork and understands most will be transferred to your replacement’s detail. There will be several permanent positions on your detail, as you will be entitled to four agents following the end of the probationary period should you not remain in Illinois.”

  The question I feared most nagged me until I asked, “And Eva?”

  “I was wondering when you’d work up the nerve to ask. She’s in rotation in the night shift. She had two weeks off to handle personal matters, but she is typically here when I’m not.”

  “Ha, so you do sleep.”

  Meredith chuckled. “I do. When Agent Evangeline isn’t on duty in here, she’s enjoying her second job, which involves making certain none of your family pays any unrequested visits. She’s had several altercations with the grizzly, but she’s emerged the clear victor every time. They’re developing a rather odd relationship. Under the circumstances, I thought it wise to encourage it.”

  Before I got too angry, I’d try to be reasonable. “They’re developing a what? Why?”

  “The grizzly enjoys physical conflict and doesn’t mind an earned beating. He tests her boundaries, she beats him until he leaves her territory, and this daily routine makes them both happy. The grizzly is staying at a hotel several blocks away. This ritual has drawn a certain amount of media attention, and whenever clips of their disputes are played, ratings increase.”

  I groaned. “He’s letting her beat him up?”

  “I believe he’s trying to earn her trust through tolerated violence.”

  The world had turned upside down on me without appropriate notice. “Why would he do that?”

  “Well, he did trigger your abdication, and Evangeline was the one who’d gotten her arm broken. If he can earn Evangeline’s trust, he’s hoping he can earn back your trust. I expect he’ll have an easier time compared to the monarchs. Your grandmother on your mother’s side is a very vocal woman.”

  I’d forgotten about her visit right along with Princess Abigail’s stay in the kingdom. “I’m such an idiot.”

  “Why?”

  “Princess Abigail was supposed to come to Illinois to get away from all this.”

  Meredith chuckled. “You have nothing to worry about. She’s joined forces with your grandmother. They’re having a splendid time. The only ones bothered by your filing are your immediate family and the congress.”

  “What do I need to look out for from the congress?”

  “Expect pressure. Your hospitalization for a serious health issue has triggered a landslide of lawsuits against several of the royal physicians. As it only took Dr. Hampford a week to identify the base issue and a total of two months to complete treatment and prepare you for physical therapy, there’s zero excuse for your condition. This should have bee
n treated years ago. Also, no members of the royal family have been indicted although His Majesty has undergone a great deal of scrutiny over the progression of the disorder. From what Dr. Hampford can tell, you’ve had the disorder since your first shift. She suspects the deterioration of your bone marrow is the consequence of your family’s unchecked talent and may be what triggers the irreversible shift. Upon discovery of your syndrome, several younger men in your family have been tested, and they all show evidence of bone marrow degradation.”

  “Grégoire?”

  “Has been confirmed to have the syndrome but to a much milder extent. The current theory is your talent requires a compatible individual to rewrite certain biological processes. When you’d mentioned the age of your living relatives, I asked Christian. He agrees with my speculation, and Dr. Hampford has likewise contributed similar opinions. Men of your line seem to require a life bond to counter the syndrome.”

  “And the bone marrow transplant?”

  “Dr. Hampton believes the procedure will rest your biology to your first shift. Degradation will likely resume at the same rate, which means you’ll have ongoing problems with illness and require a transplant every five to ten years until you bond with someone.”

  I took my time thinking it through, and I realized Meredith had been relaying most of the critical updates about my progress rather than Dr. Hampford for the past week. “Why isn’t Dr. Hampford telling me this?”

  “Dr. Hampford has been running around like a chicken with its head cut off. She’s currently at an appointment with the marrow donor. As this is new territory, the donor’s health is being carefully monitored.”

  “Who is the donor?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say at the donor’s request. The donor wishes to remain anonymous. The only people who know the identity of the donor are myself, Dr. Hampford, and several other doctors and nurses at the hospital.”

  “Well, I’m appreciative, if it’s possible to pass along the word.”

  “I’ll tell the donor.”

  “Thank you.” As though I didn’t have enough problems to contend with, the subject of my uncertain future refused to leave me alone. As I’d run out of excuses and doctor’s appointments to delay the inevitable, I asked, “What happens next?”

  “Physical therapy, which will likely be done at the RPS training center. An office has been set up for you at the center so you won’t need to go to the castle. As you’ve filed, this will begin the transition process. Grégoire is undergoing training, but it seems he lacks the appropriate temperament for rulership, so frustration levels are high. As I said, expect pressure. This incident has been a wake-up call for many, as they’d dramatically underestimated the amount of work you do.”

  “Someone had to do it.”

  “Indeed. With a treatment plan and monitoring, Dr. Hampford speculates you’ll have as much time as you need to find a solution for your talent’s limitations. Without a life bond, she does theorize the disorder will run its full progression by the time you’re fifty. Repeated transplants will be hard on your body, and it’s likely you’ll die from pneumonia, as that seems to be the point of failure for your immune system. She hasn’t figured out the biological reason for this yet.”

  “Compared to the rest of my family, I’ll die young.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  “Pleasant thought.”

  “It’s generally accepted your abdication will be a quiet way for you to retire and die in a peaceful environment.” Meredith’s expression darkened. “There are few who can do the transplants required, as it does require magic to do successfully.”

  “Which means I won’t be able to have it done once my abdication is finalized.” While I’d spent my life as a spoiled royal, I’d done enough budgets for various departments in the kingdom to have a realistic idea of how much people made. I’d never be able to afford treatments requiring specialized talents.

  “That’s correct. With your history of contracting pneumonia, it’s more likely you’ll die from illness rather than undergo your family’s typical final shift. Dr. Hampford wanted you to be able to make an educated decision, and she thought I was the best one to discuss the options with you.”

  “She’s probably right. Where does this realistically leave me?”

  “A lot depends on you.”

  “What’s your opinion?”

  “While I won’t judge you from sticking to your guns, Agent Evangeline has made progress forming a functional relationship with a grizzly.”

  “They’re beating each other up.”

  “Loudly, with much cursing. I believe they enjoy it.”

  “He’s not the king, Meredith.”

  “No, he’s not. Resentment is to be expected. Ideally, you’ll be able to work around the rest of the royal family. They’ve received the message that they’ve spectacularly burned bridges with you. It’s been made clear their actions almost cost you your life. That’s a difficult pill for parents to swallow.”

  “They should’ve left Eva alone.”

  “No one is arguing that point. You’re an adult. If you want to hire an army of prostitutes, you can. Honestly, I believe you’d have plenty of women volunteer to see if they’re compatible with you.” Meredith’s tone turned wry. “On your behalf, I’ve politely declined those invitations citing your health.”

  “Invitations? What invitations?”

  “At last count, there were twenty-six royal invitations, and I lost count of the ones from elites in Illinois and abroad. Most of these invitations were issued by women around your age interested in pursuing a more serious relationship. The rest were from royal families interested in potential proposals for you to join their family.”

  “Thank you for declining.”

  “Until you’re done with physical therapy, it’s not an option. When you’re prepared to handle a meeting with the royal family, it would be wise to set that up. Part of the probationary period does include an effort for a proper resolution.”

  “I make no promises I’ll speak to them.”

  “If Agent Evangeline can handle talking to them, you can, too.”

  Eva was talking to my parents? I scowled, struggling against my surge of temper. “Why is Eva talking to them?”

  “In Agent Evangeline’s words, I’m ‘an insufferable fucking bitch with a shitty sense of humor.’ I assigned her to handling updates on your condition to the royal family and the congress. The last congressional session she attended, she only said fuck twice, which is a marked improvement from her first session. That woman can strip paint from the wall with her vocabulary when she wants. I’ve been teaching her a well-timed curse is a more effective tool in her arsenal. I suggested she invest in a dictionary to find eloquent ways to insult people to their faces.”

  I foresaw a hilarious disaster in my future. “That’s an interesting solution. And Eva’s relationship with the monarchs?”

  “I’ve been highly entertained. They haven’t been nearly as entertained. It’s a controlled disaster. In good news, most people who have met Agent Evangeline like her.” Meredith chuckled. “Agent Evangeline’s primary flaw is her honesty. No one doubts how she feels about something, and once she picks sides, she doesn’t change her mind. She’s not going to budge until the monarchs have groveled sufficiently. I expect Her Majesty will cry. If you could convince Agent Evangeline to stop tormenting the queen, it would make the rest of the RPS happier.”

  “Eva’s bullying my mother?”

  “Not quite. If anything, I’d say Her Majesty is the bully. Whenever Her Majesty makes a jab at Agent Evangeline, she fights back. She doesn’t start anything, but she does finish it.”

  “Can we just make Eva the queen?”

  “That would involve you agreeing to resume your duties and marrying her, Your Highness. You also would need to convince her to accept your proposal.”

  “Did she tell you why she agreed to track me?”

  “The queen was sobbing because the tracker on
your car wasn’t functioning. Agent Evangeline, fresh from having her arm set and hopped up on painkillers, pointed in the right direction and gave an approximate distance.”

  “She’s that good?”

  “Her margin of error is less than half a mile. She’s phenomenal. I have no idea why her family disowned her; she might qualify as a royal-level talent. If her accuracy remains consistent and if her range exceeds a thousand miles, she qualifies. She was formally notified by Dr. Hampford about the potential consequences of maintaining her brand on you. Agent Evangeline is rather intent on leaving it in place. In her words, you’re nothing but trouble.”

  “I’m not going to argue with that.”

  “I didn’t think you would. If Dr. Hampford clears you tonight, unless there’s something you want to do, the next stop is the RPS training center to begin physical therapy.”

  Meredith’s words confirmed life did go on. I just didn’t know what to expect in the aftermath of everything that had happened.

  Chapter Eleven

  Had I gotten my way, I would’ve left for the RPS training center without fanfare or fuss, but Eva wanted me to watch her beat my great-grandpa. Meredith supported the idea, not that she needed to. Eva’s glare promised a world of misery if I refused to cooperate. To delay the inevitable, I adjusted my tie for the third time. “Why are we doing this?”

  “Just accept the damned bear’s apology already. My arm’s fine. No loss of mobility, and I was back to archery within a week. It only took an extra week or two to be back in top shape. Best of all, the damned bear paid the bill. I got the fancy treatment, too. He’s not going to bite you, but I’d expect hugs. I’m not rescuing you from any hugs unless he’s not gentle. He’ll be gentle. I also refuse to promise any protections from relocation if he’s the one relocating you.”

  “Meredith,” I complained.