A Guiding Light Page 23

  “You’re serious. And you know it’s to the death?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Marshal said, and he sat on the arm of the couch beside Ian. “He has his father’s talent, and he’s been flaring left and right. If he takes the suppressor off, Dad won’t be able to touch him. If he has his mother’s talent, too, Adam will be a walking army.”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Marshal,” I chided. “I don’t know how to use them, so having them doesn’t do me too much good.”

  “It prevented you from being shot in the head.”

  Marshal was going to be the death of me, and Veronica would be the one to kill me. Her fury seared through my chest, and I didn’t want to find out what would happen if she blew her fuse completely. “I’d say there’s a reasonable explanation, but there really isn’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Take off your shirt.”

  “If you’re looking for confirmation I’m black and blue, I am. Honestly, it was hard enough getting into the shirt this morning. Have some mercy on me.”

  “It hurts?”

  “It was like being beaten with a hammer. It’s on my list of things never to experience again. If I have a choice in the matter, I’ll never get shot, vest or not, ever again. Lesson learned. Now, I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again, but…”

  “All right. That’s fair. You didn’t really have a choice.”

  “I wasn’t going to let your father shoot Marshal, so no, I didn’t.”

  Someone knocked at the door, and I wrinkled my nose. “At the rate people are coming in here, we’re going to have to move again because everyone will know we’re here.”

  The visitor proved to be Dr. Stanton, and I glared at the woman for making the situation so much more complicated with her manipulation of the media. “For the record, you’re not my favorite person today.”

  “Was it the needles or the news? I come bearing a gift of pills so you won’t have to be subjected to any more needles for at least a week.”

  “Mostly the news, but the needles didn’t help.”

  “It was necessary. While I will apologize for outing your situation without warning, it needed to be done. A rebellion with a cause is a force of change, otherwise it’s a riot bound to run out of steam overnight. This needs to be something more than one night of rioting.”

  “If your goal was to ensure a revolution, I think you succeeded. There’s no chance in hell of calming this mess down without bloodshed now.”

  With no sign of being cowed by my tone or displeasure, Dr. Stanton turned to Veronica, nodded to her, and said, “He’s already behaving like a king, isn’t he? Don’t be too alarmed by his crankiness. While the damage to his leg was minimal, it still hurts, and I gave him a lighter dose of painkillers this morning so he’d be able to function. If it bothers you, I can up the dose, but it’ll knock him senseless for the day. Getting more rest wouldn’t hurt him, although he slept a lot better than I anticipated last night.”

  Veronica’s scowl remained fixed in place, but the heat of her anger cooled. Hints of her irritation remained, and it reflected in her eyes. “I heard he only wore one of his suppressors.”

  “Yes. Your brother needed the other one, and Adam offered. After consideration, I thought it’d be a safe enough gamble. How was your mood last night?”

  Ian and his RPS agents snickered, and I jabbed the New Yorker with my elbow again. “What’s so funny?”

  “Zach sedated Veronica. We discovered that the sedative makes her quite happy. The entire family got a dose to help them get through the evening. And yes, we conferred with the royal physicians at home before we administered the medications. They needed the sleep, and we don’t have time for a complete breakdown. Until North Dakota is stabilized, the royal family needs to be functional.”

  I remembered Marshal’s grief too well, and I wondered how the rest of his family would handle the strain over the next few weeks.

  They needed closure. They needed to bury their mother.

  Unless a miracle happened, they’d be burying their father, too. While I recognized Ian’s reasoning, it hurt to think they weren’t allowed to even have grief.

  The price of being a royal rose higher and higher the more I learned about the reality of what it meant to be a member of the ruling family. Veronica and her siblings weren’t even allowed to be human. How long would they be forced to pack away their grief for their mother?

  I understood what it was like to lose both parents at once, but I could start again with mine.

  There was no way for them to return to the past and undo what’d been done. No one could bring back the dead. Worse, I’d be the one to rob them of their father, my hand forced to do what was right for the kingdom.

  I’d wanted a new life with Veronica, but I hadn’t wanted to pay for it with her father’s blood.

  “Adam?” Veronica circled the coffee table and sat beside me. “What’s wrong?”

  “How’s the rest of your family doing?”

  “We’re managing. We’ve discussed joining the rebellion, much to the RPS’s dismay. They’re scattering us for the moment. Until we figure out how this will play out, they want to make certain someone from the family survives.”

  “I’m sorry about your mother.”

  “She didn’t suffer.”

  I was so tired of hearing that as a way to lessen the cruelty and suffering of the queen’s death. “She deserved better.”

  “I know, but nothing we say or do now will change that. All we can do is fight to make certain my father doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  “I know. No one can. My father will kill again to keep his throne, and the only way to remove him from power is through force. He won’t step down. Not now. He’s committed.” Veronica leaned against me, and I wrapped my arm around her. When I touched her, she couldn’t hide the sorrow hiding beneath her skin, a pain in her heart I knew far too well. I’d carried grief with me for most of my life, although it faded day by day.

  No matter how society painted them—painted us—royals were human, too.

  Veronica’s heart wept for her parents although her eyes remained dry.

  Dr. Stanton cleared her throat. “We need to figure out what our next step is.”

  “We wait,” Daniel said, returning to his chair at the desk. “By the end of the day, more reinforcements should arrive from Montana, including the heads of detail for His and Her Royal Majesties. Assuming we have a verified approval, they’ll bring the documentation with them. Montana’s already issued its approval.”

  “One down, four to go,” I muttered.

  “And a state of emergency or a declaration of martial law.”

  I regarded my laptop with a weary sigh. “It’s only a matter of when. Without either, he can’t bring military force against the rebellion, can he?”

  Daniel nodded. “Correct. The military would have the option to reject his motions for armed combat with civilians outside of martial law. A state of emergency would allow him to call in outside help—help he won’t get. He’ll declare martial law, and yes, it’s only a matter of when. Short of surrender, at this point, it’s inevitable.”

  “My father won’t surrender. He’d rather die first.”

  “And he will,” Marshal said with chilling certainty.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I hated the waiting game, but the company made it tolerable, as did the small, pale pill Dr. Stanton gave me with a glass of water. Once the waiting ended, there’d be little time for peace or quiet, and I snatched every moment I could, leaning against Veronica as much as she leaned on me, content to listen to the RPS agents make sense of the madness enveloping Fargo.

  I streamed the news on my laptop, impressed the king hadn’t cut the broadcasts yet.

  “Why hasn’t the king cut the broadcasts yet? They’re not helping his cause,” I asked, unable to rein in my curiosity any longer.

  The RPS agents halted their discussion to stare at
me.

  “What?”

  “He doesn’t have the authority to cut off the broadcasts unless he declares martial law. He can force them to broadcast new content and speeches, but he can’t cut off broadcasts without just cause or a state of emergency. Until martial law is declared, the freedom of the press still stands,” Daniel replied. “Zach? You’re probably more up-to-speed on the specifics of North Dakota law than I am. Thoughts?”

  “They use basic Royal States laws for the freedom of the press in times of martial law. New York has stringent guidelines on verification of news, but North Dakotan media doesn’t have those guidelines. North Dakota prefers as few laws as possible.”

  I grunted and straightened, pleased when Veronica kept leaning against me. “That’s what got North Dakota into this mess in the first place. There are so few regulations it’s easy for others to meddle in its affairs.”

  “My parents really weren’t trying to spark a rebellion. They just wanted a marriage contract and wanted to let His Royal Majesty know they were serious. I’m not saying it’s right, but they never intended for matters to escalate like this.”

  “When you get home, perhaps you should remind your parents they need to mind their own business for a change. And to stop being dicks to everyone,” I muttered.

  Veronica giggled. “You’re going to teach Marshal bad habits.”

  “I’m pretty sure this is where I’m supposed to say ‘Tough shit.’”

  Marshal joined his sister in giggling. “Adam’s so pissy he’s going to have to run the kingdom. I think it’s sinking in he’s gotten a lot more than he bargained for.”

  “As long as the kingdom comes packaged with a certain woman, I’ll deal with running it. I’m just not looking forward to figuring out how to solve this mess without it becoming a complete bloodbath.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’ll get the girl,” Veronica said, reaching over and giving my chest a solid thump. When I yelped, she patted me even harder. “And you’re not going to stop bullets with your chest again, are you?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  Her rubbing my chest, I discovered, hurt just as much as her patting. “Try not to invite violent lunatics to meetings with you again, although I give you credit for your choice of location and timing. However, lunatics don’t play by the rules of the sane. The next time you encounter a lunatic, have the RPS handle the situation. They’re trained for it. You aren’t.”

  “Message received.”

  “Excellent. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, have you put any thought into how we’re going to deal with my father?”

  I glanced at Marshal.

  “He should use a gun. He’s a hell of a shot for someone who’s never shot a gun before.”

  “Beginner’s luck.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I scrunched my shoulders and prepared for a pummeling I deserved. “I may have shot one of your father’s RPS agents.”

  “Head shot right between the eyes. He was at least twenty feet away, too. The bastard pointed a gun at us, and Adam took serious offense to that. He didn’t even hesitate. I’d say it was crazy, but he was on the tail end of a flare, and madder than hell about what had happened in the food court. He almost—”

  I feared his next comment involved either a jewelry store or a lingerie store. I lunged for him and clapped my hand over his mouth. “Please don’t.”

  The young prince snickered.

  I lowered my hand, shot him a glare, and returned to my seat beside Veronica, who giggled at our antics.

  “He wanted to buy you lacy panties while the mall was on fire. He stopped and thought about it.”

  Damn it. I bowed my head and wondered why I’d trusted him to keep his mouth shut. Then I remembered becoming the focus of his bad jokes beat him sobbing over the loss of his mother, which kept me seated rather than hunting for a gag.

  “He obviously did more than stop and think about it since you’re telling me. As he’s rather embarrassed over this, I’m assuming there’s truth to this. What sort of panties was he interested in?”

  “Isn’t he too young for this conversation? He still thinks girls have cooties.”

  “I want a little niece or nephew to spoil. Aren’t lacy panties a requirement?”

  It dawned on me that either Veronica or I would have to teach him the reality of how children came into the world. While lacy panties could play a role, they weren’t a requirement. “No, Marshal. They’re not a requirement.”

  Everyone in the room stared at me, and Dr. Stanton covered her mouth with her hand.

  Marshal’s eyes widened. “Oh. So what is required?”

  While Veronica sat still and quiet beside me, I was aware of her growing dismay as she realized we’d tumbled headlong into one of life’s most dreaded awkward conversations. There were several ways I could think of to handle it, and as Marshal had already proved he was mature enough to handle the loss of his mother and the impending loss of his father, I decided to treat him like the adult he’d one day be. “Despite anything anyone may have told you, lacy panties aren’t required, and there are no birds or bees involved in the process. When you decide girls no longer have cooties, you can ask for the details.”

  “Huh. The panties really aren’t required?”

  How was I supposed to explain the whole point of lacy panties was to take them off without sounding like an idiot?

  “Don’t you dare say what you’re probably thinking,” Veronica whispered in my ear.

  “Which thing I’m probably thinking? Honestly, I have list.”

  “You know what? I don’t want to know,” Marshal announced, refusing to look at us. “Girls still have cooties, so you don’t have to tell me yet.”

  I wasn’t sure who was more relieved, me or Veronica. As I saw an easy way to put Dr. Stanton on the spot, I replied, “Well, when you decide girls don’t have cooties, I recommend you ask Dr. Stanton. She’s an expert.”

  Dr. Stanton lowered her hand from her mouth and arched a brow. “I see you’ve learned the art of delegation.”

  “You’re a trusted resource, and you can prescribe birth control. I certainly can’t.”

  Veronica grinned and nudged me with her elbow. “You’ve won that round, Adam.”

  “I don’t get it,” Marshal complained.

  “Since Dr. Stanton saw fit to reveal my medical records to the public as a matter of public interest, she gets to explain why there are no birds, bees, or lace panties involved with having children. But, since you’re concerned, Veronica and I will seriously discuss the issue of providing you with a nephew or niece.”

  Dr. Stanton rolled her eyes so dramatically I expected her to turn around and start banging her head into the wall to put herself out of her misery. “What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Smith?”

  “I’m giving him something to look forward to.”

  My doctor’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

  There was only one person who had any real say in what we did, and I turned to her. “You don’t mind, Veronica?”

  “I pretty sure I already told you I was game for competing with Montana for number of children. And don’t you dare tell me I’m too old, Dr. Stanton.”

  “Noted,” my doctor replied.

  “So, I’ll get at least one niece or nephew?”

  Daniel burst into laughter. “Your Highness, His Royal Majesty of Montana has sixteen siblings. I think you’ll be wading through nieces and nephews if your sister has her way. Of course, there are many twins and triplets in the Montana line, which gives them an advantage.”

  “Oh. I don’t think I need sixteen nieces and nephews. One or two would be okay.”

  “I was hoping for three,” I admitted.

  “Five,” Veronica countered. “Minimum.”

  Did she really think I’d say no to having five children after spending too much of my life expecting none and wanting even one? I’d have as many as she wanted without question. If the rumo
rs were true about children, I’d never sleep again and they’d eat me out of house and home, but I didn’t mind. Some sacrifices were worth making. “Five minimum is also fine with me. But let’s not compete with the Montana monarchs. They’re already two ahead of us.”

  “It’d only take one set of twins to catch up.”

  While I wouldn’t wish a pair of twins on anyone, I decided I wasn’t going to question her interest in twins. “Okay.”

  “Unless you have legitimate fertility issues, I will not be authorizing artificial conception methods of any sort.” Dr. Stanton held up three fingers. “Should you fail to have a child after this many years, you can inquire, and your request for twins or triplets will be considered then and only then. From everything I’ve seen of your medical records, you shouldn’t have a problem having children. If you want to compete with Montana’s monarchs, winning fairly is more satisfying.”

  “We could neglect to tell them we’re competing with them,” I suggested. “Once we’re ahead, then we tell them.”

  Dr. Stanton sighed and turned to Marshal. “Next time, please don’t encourage them.”

  “But I only encouraged a little in the mall.”

  “I think they’ll be fine without any encouragement. If they haven’t made any progress in a few months, I’ll consider helping you with your campaign to secure a niece or nephew.”

  “My sister really doesn’t need lacy panties?”

  Veronica giggled, coughed in an attempt to cover it, and with admirable dignity, replied, “I already own lace panties, Marshal. Don’t worry. I’m covered.”

  I excused myself and limped to the bathroom, closing the door behind me before breaking down into helpless laughter.

  The good mood didn’t survive through the evenings news. Reporters broadcast evidence of the riots spreading from Fargo to other cities and towns in North Dakota, and the public had one message for the king: surrender and face justice.

  The king’s reply placed the blame for the queen’s death firmly on Veronica’s shoulders, and as we’d hoped, he declared martial law at the same time, intending to use the military to capture his wayward heir and see that she faced justice for her crimes.