Cold Flame Read online

  “That sounds rather like subterfuge.”

  “It is subterfuge. It would not surprise me if your family took desperate measures to force you to return to New York. They’ve attempted to send their agents to investigate you, which was blocked by myself and other Montana RPS agents. Revoking your detail, if Montana had not opted to take it over, would have made it easier for them to take you to New York at their leisure.”

  My family would do such a thing without regret or second thought. “So Montana is interfering with New York?”

  I’d have to send the Montana royal family a thank you card at some point—assuming I could do so without drawing unwanted attention to myself.

  “Montana does enjoy interfering with New York at every reasonable opportunity. He feels you’re at risk, as you have a very strong talent, and you’re, in his opinion, a very lovely young woman who would make a good queen for any kingdom in the world. He’s also rather tired of crotchety old monarchs trying to pressure their children into relationships they don’t want.”

  It occurred to me that my sister, through acts of greed and violence, had changed the world in unexpected ways. Most would remember her as someone who’d almost cost a queen her life, but before her short-sighted, foul acts, no one from any kingdom would have reached out to me in a gesture of kindness.

  Certainly not a man who was, when he wanted, fully worthy of being called the Monster of Montana.

  Times had changed. So had I, along with a lot of other people.

  “Does that make you the head of my detail, Terry?”

  “If you want to be technical about it, I suppose it does, as you have a detail of one.”

  “What’s your trick, then? You have to have a good one for you to be trusted to guard a New Yorker alone.”

  “I’m a hybrid.” Terry smirked, put the SUV into gear, and pulled back onto the road. “The rumor has it you’re a cold flame, so I suspect you’re more wary of hybrids than most. There’s a rather heated argument over whether your talent is a hybrid or just the world’s strongest flameweaving talent with complete control over your element. I’m of the opinion you’re a hybrid, too.”

  “Why would you think I’m a hybrid or that strong of a talent?”

  “You took your sister’s frozen body, drove for longer than a day with her, and took her up into the mountains, leaving no evidence she’d been in my vehicle at all. Also, thank you for stealing my SUV over the others just like it in the parking lot. It made tracking you simple. I just waited until you moved it to a better location to recover my vehicle and intercept you. You’re a surprisingly considerate woman for a clever little thief.”

  “I’d be sorry about stealing your SUV, but I doubted you’d let me borrow it if I asked. That, plus you left the door unlocked and a key readily available for my use. Of course, half of the RPS vehicles had unlocked doors, but yours was the first I found with the keys provided.”

  “Done entirely on purpose, I assure you. I assumed you wanted to handle your sister’s body without interference, and as no one else had claimed her, I felt it was best to watch and wait to see what happened. There is the matter of your talent, however. While Her Royal Majesty of New York does have limited ability to adjust the heat of her flames, she is incapable of keeping a frozen body cold for long periods of time.”

  “I can.”

  “As is obvious; after four hours, the body would have begun to thaw in earnest, and those body bags? They’re rather limited. It would have leaked. After a day? I would be replacing my SUV.”

  “I can’t manifest ice, if that is what you’re asking.”

  “I find that to be a relief. What can you do?”

  “I can suck the heat out of a body, I can control air around my flames, and I can adjust the temperature of fire at my will. I have full control over my magic.”

  I could, if I wanted, put even my mother to shame—and I’d proven it with my sister’s body.

  Not even Sylvia’s teeth remained.

  “Airweaving?”

  “I suppose so. Officially, I’m a pure flameweaver. But I can sense the patterns of the wind in the flames, and I can manipulate them to strengthen or dampen a fire.”

  “Which you likely use to do things like keep a body frozen. Can you strip enough heat from something to freeze it?”

  “I’ve never tried that before,” I admitted.

  “We’ll do some experiments at some point. Perhaps New York’s evaluators are content to leave you untried and untested, but I am not. I can’t protect you if I don’t know what you’re capable of.”

  “And what are you capable of?”

  “I’m an empath, an illusionist, and a metalweaver.”

  My brows rose at that. “Next you’re going to tell me you shapeshift into a unicorn.”

  “I could make you a figurine of a unicorn if you would like.”

  “I would, actually.”

  Terry pulled over, put the vehicle in park, and held out his hands, concentrating on his palm.

  I’d seen earthweavers and their variants work before, but most didn’t manifest; they controlled what was around them.

  Terry manifested dark iron ore, and it bubbled into life in a molten, steaming state, hovering over his bare hand without any evidence of burning him. Starting with the hooves, he added more metal until he fashioned a galloping horse racing out of the ocean’s surf, and a spiraling horn protruding from its brow. He put it on an ovular base, also made of dark iron. The process took him no more than five minutes, and he handed the unicorn to me. “Californians can be pissy, but if you tell them it’s a keepsake, they’ll ignore if you keep it. They have rules for refugees, but they try not to be cruel. Should they see the card from Montana, they will allow you to keep it, but I would slip it into your pocket before they take a closer look at your wallet. That will better protect you.”

  Upon closer inspection of the figurine, I realized he’d included all the little details that transformed the figurine into a masterpiece that best belonged in a museum. “It’s beautiful.”

  My fire could be beautiful, too, but it never lasted.

  “Over time, it’ll rust away to nothing, but there’s beauty to be found in that, too, if you look for it.”

  I’d have to spend a lot of time pondering that in the days to come. “I just thought you should know you have a shitty job, you’re probably not paid even a quarter of what you’re worth, and that I will totally understand if you accept the first reasonable job offer to cross your path.”

  “There’s something to be said for having challenging, meaningful work, and with you, I believe I’ll have both.”

  Two

  I didn’t need to impress anybody, so why not wear used clothes?

  Terry had an obsession with making certain I had more clothes than what I currently wore, and it bothered him a lot more than it bothered me that I only had what I carried with me.

  What was I going to do with a lot of stuff when wandering across the Royal States doing what I wanted, when I wanted, and how I wanted? I’d illegally crossed just about every damned border on the continent, and I’d done most of the trip on foot.

  I’d stowed away on a few trains, hitchhiked in a couple of transports, and even splurged on a bus ride once. I’d disliked the bus ride; it made me feel like I was being shipped to a butcher. The trip had been among the quieter ones, but I’d spent the entire time on edge and waiting for something to happen.

  At least I’d talked Terry into a thrift store rather than a boutique. Thrift stores made sense to me; I didn’t need to impress anybody, so why not wear used clothes? I could pick what I wanted, spend a few bucks, and not have to worry if I trashed it in a few weeks. On average, I made my clothes go for a month before I got tired of blitz washing them in gas station bathrooms and drying them with my magic. I’d gotten the entire process down to seven minutes.

  Terry shadowed me, carrying the basket while I rummaged through the racks for my next favorite shirt. A pink one ca
ught my eye, and I checked the tag, which declared it to be a small.

  I swam in anything larger than a small thanks to my lifestyle, and I tossed it on top of the two new pairs of jeans I’d found to make the RPS agent happy.

  “We’re going to have another fight, aren’t we?” Terry asked.

  “Yep.”

  “You need more than a shirt and two pairs of jeans.”

  “I’ll check out the dresses for something for the wedding next.”

  “A dress plus one blouse, a blazer, a skirt, and I don’t care if I have to sedate you to make it happen, but your undergarments will be purchased new at a nice store. If you get two t-shirts and some pajamas, that would go a long way to mitigate any nagging you may otherwise face.”

  I arched a brow at that; in New York, the agents lived in fear of the royal family, usually refusing to toe any lines to keep from being fired. With my parents, fired could go one of three ways: the agent might just walk away without a job, they might lose their job while sporting second degree burns, or they might get singed and choose to quit.

  In my case, my agents obeyed my parents, and they worked to make certain I did what the rest of the royal family wanted. I’d learned to go with the flow to avoid a fight.

  It hadn’t mattered.

  The agents rarely stuck around, and they had learned to keep their opinions to themselves unless they were acting on the order of my mother and father.

  Montana must have taken care with their RPS agents to keep them feisty and willing to play ball with royalty. I questioned why, but so far, I found Terry in a league of his own. Tolerating him would be easy.

  Given a few days with him, I’d probably miss him once he waltzed out of my life like everyone else.

  I ruffled through shirts until I found two more, one of which had long sleeves. The other was another tank top. I figured that would cover the basics, and I tossed both into the basket. “I don’t like t-shirts.”

  “There are leather jackets over there if you’d like to look through them. I also saw some gauzy sashes that are very popular among the ladies right now. If you’re going to go through a rebellious stage, it seems you may want to go in properly clothed.”

  “I resent that this is your victory, Terry.”

  He grinned. “Save your energy for more important battles. We can get you a bag for your clothes that’ll let you carry everything around if you really want to feel like you can wander off at your whim.”

  “I’m taking you up on that offer.”

  “You may want to check for a pair of suitable shoes while we’re here, too. For each outfit.”

  I gave up without a fight, as the RPS agent made an excellent point. Saving my energy for more important battles was the wise thing to do. While my family wasn’t known for wisdom or common sense, I figured one of us had to break the mold, and that someone was me.

  Terry tricked me into buying more clothes than I could fit into a single bag. It took two bags and a suitcase to carry everything, which made for a tight squeeze in the back of the SUV. The agent had brought half of his closet, too.

  That made sense. The poor bastard wandered as much as I did, forced to keep tabs on me while I roamed.

  “I’m sorry.” I’d already apologized at least ten times for inconveniencing him, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying to convince him I regretted he’d been run around the entire Royal States because of me.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about, Rachel. I’m even going to pretend you don’t have a title or rank until we’re at official locations on the condition you understand I will deny any accusations I used your name.”

  “I don’t understand why royal parents name their children if they’re expected to be addressed by their title all the damned time. What’s the point? Just name the kid their title.”

  It had taken me until I was five or six to realize I had a name other than Your Highness; my parents had let the nannies and agents handle most of their parenting duties, and they had addressed me only by my title.

  One of my first memories was being very confused about why people had started calling me Rachel.

  “Your file mentioned you had some confusion growing up over your name.”

  My file deserved to be lit on fire. “Does my file say anything nice about me?”

  “You’re an intellectual with an active interest in finances, policy, and general diplomatic theory. You speak four languages, with a notation recommending you be tested for an illumination talent due to how easily you pick up new languages and vocabulary.”

  “Illumination? What does that have to do with learning capacity?”

  “Illuminists come in several varieties, and some of the varieties have hyperactive neurological activity in the section of the brain responsible for language and learning. When someone, especially an adult, shows an aptitude for languages, a notation is made to evaluate for an illumination talent.”

  “Huh. I didn’t know that.”

  “You’re a flameweaver from New York. I suspect they would not want you to be aware you might be something other than a pure flameweaver.”

  “New York. It’s where other talents go to die. Especially empathy.”

  “Empathy doesn’t thrive in people who lack empathy towards others. New York typically lacks the right personalities to develop an empathy talent.”

  “Right. We don’t care about anyone other than ourselves. It’s basically a genetic flaw.”

  “There are currently two empathy candidates within your family line.”

  “Get out.” I picked up my unicorn figurine off the dashboard and ran my fingers over it, marveling at the texture of the iron beneath my fingers. “That’s the only thing everyone in my family agrees on. We are incapable of being empaths.”

  “You stole an SUV so you could take your sister’s body and give her a proper burial. That’s a reasonable demonstration you have the right base personality type to develop empathy. On the genetic front, should a New Yorker develop empathy, it will be a strong talent. That’s part of why I was chosen for your detail. Your reaction to past events made His Royal Majesty of Montana suspicious you might be a missed empath. The same applies to Prince Ian, who is developing a reputation of being a fixer among royal families.”

  “A what?”

  “A fixer. When something goes wrong, he shows up to help out. In short, he’s very sensitive to others, and he’s inclined to do what he can to fix a situation.”

  “Ian?” I couldn’t imagine Ian, who had once tried to drown me in the Hudson for stealing his beef jerky, might actually go anywhere to help anyone without being paid ridiculous amounts of money. I supposed he might if he owed someone a favor, but he tried to keep from being indebted to anyone.

  “Yes, Prince Ian. He’s one of your brothers.”

  The attempted drowning once again came to mind. “Ian, who literally tried to drown me in a river because I stole his beef jerky? That Ian? It happened more than once, too. I really liked his beef jerky. Also, I can’t swim, so I was an easy target.”

  “Yes, Rachel. That Ian.”

  “The same Ian who caught a black snake and put it in my bed once?”

  “Yes, that Ian.”

  I could think of at least twenty other incidents where he’d tried to get rid of me without success. “Was he hit on the head? Brought to the brink of death and experienced a change of perspective? Beaten into better manners?”

  “I believe he tired of watching his family self-destruct.”

  Rather than deny the possibility, I thought it through while Terry drove, taking us on a road northbound towards Illinois. “It pretty much self-destructed when Sylvia snapped.”

  “His and Her Royal Majesties of New York have been making efforts to improve New York’s reputation. Ian has made decent progress on this front, although most are inclined to believe that an exception does not make the rule. People are curious about you, as your disappearance has been made rather public—by Prince Ian. He has opinions.�
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  “He does?”

  “Yes. He is of the opinion you’re the only member of the New York royal line with the integrity and general skills to be the next reigning monarch. He has expressed this idea to His Royal Majesty of Montana.”

  “That’s quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Perhaps you should hear the circumstances before you decide if it is dumb.”

  The RPS agent would drive me insane within a week, but I already liked him too much to light him on fire and make my escape. “I’m listening.”

  “According to Prince Ian, your ability to listen despite your initial disagreement over a subject is a matter to consider. You have natural diplomatic tendencies despite a concerning lack of experience with other kingdoms, you learn languages easily, and you have a general ability to blend in almost anywhere you go. You’re considerate. You are an intellectual, but you also remember there are people behind the statistics. He has presented a comprehensive list of reasons why you should inherit New York rather than anyone else in the family.”

  “Ian needs a reminder I am better with fire than he is.”

  “That is on his list.”

  Of course. I should’ve guessed. “What else is on his list?”

  “I’m sure Prince Ian would be delighted to tell you should he be given an opportunity.”

  “If he can’t figure out I’m at the wedding, I’m not telling him, which means I won’t have to listen to him list off my non-existent virtues.”