A Guiding Light Page 26

  “What?” I boomed.

  Veronica pressed her hand to my chest and pushed so I wouldn’t leave the couch. “We discussed this while you were napping, Adam. It’s a low-risk experiment, and it’ll confirm if you have your mother’s talent. We already have video-based evidence confirming you have your father’s talent. If you have both, you need to be trained. This is the fastest, easiest way to confirm if you have it. If you have the talent, nothing will happen. If you don’t, I’ll be getting an unconventional haircut.”

  “Using explosives? You want my mother to do what with explosives to give you a haircut?”

  Veronica arched a brow and pressed her hand harder to my chest, which hurt like hell, but the pain wasn’t enough to distract me from what she intended to do. “You’re being unreasonable, Adam. It’s a simple test. She’ll tie small beads of explosives to the end of my hair. She’ll attempt to detonate them. If you have the talent, you’re going to prevent her from detonating them. It’ll be completely instinctual, as your talent will manifest to protect me from harm. That’s how you tick, and we all know it. Your talent didn’t flare until someone you cared for was about to be harmed. In that case, my brother.”

  I clenched my teeth. “Surely there’s another way to test it.”

  “There are other ways, but they aren’t guaranteed to get the right reaction out of you.”

  My mother laughed. “Be glad we didn’t go with our first idea, Adam. Your father wanted to come in here armed with blanks and take a pot shot at Veronica. He’d almost talked Agent Porter into it, but then you clocked out for a nap and the idea was scraped as too dangerous, as startling you awake with gunfire might result in a larger flare. So, we came up with this plan. It was actually Her Highness’s idea.”

  “Veronica!”

  “Don’t you ‘Veronica’ me, Adam. It’s just some hair. It’s also my hair, to do with as I please. If I want your mother to tie little beads of explosives to it, I will.”

  It wasn’t just some hair. It was her hair, long and perfect, just like the rest of her. I opened my mouth, reconsidered what I wanted to say, clacked my teeth together, and grunted.

  It was her choice, and I hated even considering the idea her hair might be cut using explosives. “What type of explosive?”

  “C4. It’s stable, so dropping a bead or two isn’t going to hurt anything, and without a blasting cap, the only way it’s going to blow is through magic—my talent, to be specific. You can toss C4 in a fire and it won’t detonate. Some shockers can detonate C4, but they’re not as refined about it as I am. They can’t sense it. I can. That’s what makes my talent so dangerous. Not only can I detonate explosives remotely, I can sense it without being near it. I’m a living bomb squad—and I can prevent explosives from detonating just as easily as I can detonate them.”

  I turned my glare to my father. “And you really thought continuing her talent bloodline was a good idea?”

  “I liked the sex,” he replied.

  The last thing I ever wanted to hear was my parents discussing the details of their sex life. I scowled. “I didn’t need to know that. I definitely didn’t want to know that, either.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have asked.”

  My mother pulled a small, velvet bag out of her purse and held it up. “This contains the C4. I will break it into appropriate sized beads and use thread to tie it into your hair, Your Highness. To limit the risk to yourself, we’ll tie your hair into a ponytail and hold it out of the way for the experiment. The quantity I’m using will, if all detonated at once, make a cute little pop. We’re really not using much, just enough to give you a nice haircut.”

  “You need to check a dictionary for the definition of nice,” I muttered.

  “Don’t be such a baby, Adam. It’s not going to hurt her. Hair grows back. The stench of burned hair is unpleasant, but it’ll go away within a few minutes. It’s just a little C4.”

  My mother rose to her feet and took a single step towards Veronica.

  The next thing I knew, I was on my hands and knees beside the couch. Veronica patted my cheek with one hand, her other holding my chin up so I was forced to look her in the eyes. “While I think it’s sweet you can’t handle even the threat of someone giving me an unconventional haircut, you’re being a little overdramatic, Adam.”

  My mother stood nearby, holding the tattered ruins of her velvet bag, waving it around like a victory flag. “Talent confirmed. You’re going to have to work on that, Adam. You can’t flare over every little danger to Veronica. I wasn’t going to hurt her.”

  “Before any of you get carried away, Adam, how are you feeling?” Dr. Stanton asked.

  My body ached from head to toe, with the worst of the pain inflicting my calf, chest, and head. “Awful.”

  “Your Highness?”

  “I think he pulled the gunshot wound when he fell, and if he didn’t have a concussion before, he probably does now. You smacked into the coffee table on your way down,” Veronica explained.

  “I can tell.” I couldn’t remember how I’d fallen to my hands and knees, and the instant I tried to get up, Veronica grabbed my arm to steady me. With surprising strength, she hauled me onto the couch, sat beside me, and started prodding at my head. “No bump yet where you hit the table.”

  “We’re going to call that a confirmation of the talent. How would you rate his ability, Mrs. Penshire?”

  “He’s definitely my son,” my mother replied. “He didn’t even know for certain I had C4—I actually had a very small quantity of HMX in the bag. The C4 is in my pocket, and he would’ve detonated that, too, if I’d let him. I blocked him, as I didn’t want a hole in my leg to match his. He blew his fuse when he thought I was going for Veronica.”

  “And how difficult is this talent to train?”

  “We don’t have time to train him, and frankly, until he can be in a stable environment, you don’t want to train him. Ideally, he won’t be put in a position where he needs his talents, although I expect he is going to want to help lay siege to the castle. So, I’ll be going along with him as an escort so he doesn’t detonate anything accidentally while he’s playing conqueror.”

  “I’m playing conqueror?”

  “Looks like it to me. You finally got tired of waiting and are out to get what you’ve wanted all along. I approve. If she tries to run away, I’m sure your father and I can help ensure she doesn’t escape.”

  Veronica sighed, shook her head, and rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t have to worry about that.”

  “Until he has a ring on your finger or documents in hand saying otherwise, I’ll be watching you very closely, Your Highness,” my mother replied.

  “I should be annoyed by your meddling, but as I have no objections to what you’re doing, I’m just going to ignore it. I’m also interpreting your words as permission to chain him should he attempt to run from me.”

  “He got angry enough I might give you an unconventional haircut he detonated explosives I was holding. I think you’ll have a harder time convincing him he shouldn’t follow you around like a puppy.”

  “Oh, no. He has no problems with going and doing whatever he wants, even knowing it will inevitably annoy me.”

  “Guilty as charged,” I acknowledged. “I would do it again, too.”

  “Of course.” Veronica sighed. “I’d rather you followed me around like a puppy.”

  I gambled, leaning against her, and relaxed when she wrapped her arm around me. “I’m too tall to be a good puppy.”

  “You couldn’t have been hurt too much by that flare. Your sense of humor is intact.”

  “Can we have a household rule? No unconventional methods of haircuts.”

  “I’m honestly curious how bad it would’ve been.”

  My mother laughed and returned to her seat. “Awful. I’ve tried it once. The ends burn and it’s jagged,” my mother replied. “You would’ve looked like you’d stuck a clothes hanger into an electric socket.”

  “All rig
ht, Adam. I’m going to concede this one. No unconventional haircuts, but in exchange, if you’re going to do something stupid again, you have to discuss it with me first.”

  I sighed. “I’ll tell you, but it probably won’t stop me from doing it.”

  “If you don’t tell me, I can’t help you.”

  “So, you’re telling me I can’t leave you safely nestled in the hotel while I handle taking over the kingdom?”

  “Yes, that is exactly right. If you hadn’t wanted me to get involved, you wouldn’t have signed my paperwork.”

  I sighed, decided I’d already lost the war, and looked around the room for Veronica’s brother, perhaps my only viable ally in the hotel. “Where’s Marshal?”

  “With Ian. We decided he didn’t need to see any fireworks or hear any detonations. He’s had enough trauma lately.”

  “Smart move,” I admitted. “He doesn’t need to see any of this.”

  Veronica echoed my sigh. “He won’t have a choice, Adam. Our father will die, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it at this point. He killed our mother, and the people have made it clear he must see justice. They’re not going not let him live. Even if he’s arrested, they’ll call for his execution. If they get a hold of him, they’ll tear him apart—literally.”

  The mental image of a crowd of infuriated people exacting justice for their murdered queen was enough to make me wince. “That’s not ideal.”

  “Few of the solutions to our problem is. But we’re in a good position. You’re confirmed to have two rare talents and you’re a ridiculously strong empathic leech. Once we’re ruling, your right to be the king will essentially be unassailable. The signed approvals will further confirm your rightful place as North Dakota’s king. You might even get lucky and won’t have to train your other talents.”

  My mother and father snorted.

  “I’m going to take that to mean we can’t ignore it,” Veronica muttered.

  “Once wakened, magic rarely returns to sleep, Your Highness,” my mother replied. “It’ll be easier for him than it was for us. We didn’t have anyone helping us figure out how to control our talent. He’ll be able to learn from us.”

  I understood what was left unspoken: my emerging talent would force me to involve them in my life, giving us a chance to rebuild burned bridges. Mindful of everything Veronica and her family had lost in so little time, I nodded. “And it’s entirely possible my previous doctor’s treatments have strengthened those talents.”

  “That’s a legitimate concern. You’re also an illuminator. That you have four identified talents is unusual—and concerning,” Dr. Stanton said, perching on the edge of Daniel’s desk. “You might have other talents we don’t know about yet. Your current tendency to flare could be disastrous if you go untrained. Right now, it might be an advantage for us. Your talent is flaring at every possible threat, which is good. It might keep you alive throughout the rest of the rebellion.”

  “The only question I have is how are we going to deal with the rebellion?” I rolled my shoulders to help ease some of my tension. “There’s been enough violence.”

  Everyone sighed, but Daniel’s single shake of his head worried me the most.

  “Daniel?”

  “It’s impossible to prevent additional violence. The situation has grown to a full rebellion. Fargo has become a literal war zone. The military has converged on the castle to protect the king. That the military hasn’t opened fire on protestors is likely due to the media broadcasts of your filing; the filing contests the king’s right to maintain martial law. There’s a fine line between protecting the king and murder. And the army consists of North Dakotans. They don’t want this fight any more than we do.”

  “So, what are we supposed to do about it?”

  My mother’s giggle terrified me. “It’s simple.”

  I stared at her, which only made her grin wider, and it occurred to me I had few memories of my mother smiling. “For some reason, I’m concerned.”

  “The people have made it clear they’re taking the castle, so we’ll help them. Your father and I can handle any mere tank they throw at us. Actually, their munitions are completely useless against us. He handles the mechanicals, I handle the plastics and any other explosives they might have, which renders the army useless. It becomes a talent-on-talent affair, and we have the advantage of numbers. And there’s a good number of elite in the rebellion with destructive talents. Having a New Yorker on our side doesn’t hurt, either. Honestly, Prince Ian could probably raze the entire castle to the ground without help.”

  I’d never thought too much about the strength of Ian’s talents, and it bothered me my mother thought of him as a walking war machine, one capable of destroying an entire castle to bring a brutal, fiery end to the rebellion. “It’d be nice if there was a castle left when we’re finished.”

  My mother dismissed my comment with a wave of her hand. “Nonsense. We needed a new one anyway, and building a castle requires a lot of labor. It’ll help revive the economy and give people jobs for at least a few months while North Dakota recovers.”

  “You know what? I’m going to bed. If something important happens, wake me.”

  Veronica hopped to her feet, turned, and offered me both of her hands. “Some sleep sounds like an excellent idea. Try to make some plans that’ll leave us at least part of a castle when you’re finished. And Daniel?”

  “Yes, Your Highness?”

  “If anyone gets anywhere near my little brother, kill them.”

  “Understood, Your Highness.”

  Chapter Twenty

  I meant to get sleep, but Veronica had other ideas, and without the suppressors to contain my talent, I had no hope of resisting her, not that I wanted to. I played an equal part in our general inability to get near a bed without pursuing each other. After closing the door, she abandoned all pretenses of shyness, discarding her clothes with little fanfare.

  I’d always thought of her as beautiful, even as a child, but she stole my breath as a woman.

  From the beginning, she’d become my reason for living, and I couldn’t deny my need for her any more than I could deny I’d do anything required to keep her mine. I forgot about the aches and pains for a while, and when Veronica was finally as content and relaxed as I was, I scrounged up the energy to cover us both with the blanket, tuck her close to me, and bury my nose in her hair before dropping off to sleep.

  Marshal woke us, bouncing on the bed and calling our names in his most annoying voice.

  Veronica squealed and clutched the blanket to her chest, trying her best to kick her little brother into next week. I snagged the boy, relocated him to beside the bed, and grunted. “What is it, Marshal?”

  “You need to see the news. Everyone’s in the other room waiting for you.” Marshal waved a blue and white box around. “Dr. Stanton said you should have this, Veronica.”

  Veronica sat up, still clutching the blanket with one hand, and snatched the box out of her brother’s hand. “Why the hell is she giving this to you?”

  “I’m being educated.”

  What the hell was in the box? I pulled Veronica’s trick. Unlike store-bought products, it didn’t have a brand on the front, and when I flipped it over and read the label, I discovered I held a high-sensitivity home pregnancy test. I arched a brow. “Maybe I’m not a woman and I’m a few years past basic biology courses, but aren’t these only useful after a week or two?”

  “She’s pandering to his desire to have a nephew or niece,” Veronica muttered.

  “It’s not like we’re not pandering to it, too,” I replied.

  “While true, I don’t need this yet.”

  “Yet is the key word,” Marshal replied, lifting his chin. “She wants to be really careful with your health, because your health is important for my little nephew or niece.”

  I wanted to fling the pregnancy test at Marshal and tell him to take it back to Dr. Stanton along with a message to tone down her heir-making ploys. Inste
ad, I offered the box back to Veronica, who put it on the nightstand.

  “What are you supposed to do with that box, and why do you both look cranky?”

  I flopped back onto the bed, groped for the nearest pillow, and covered my head. “That question is all yours, Veronica.”

  “You woke us up. That box is to confirm if Adam has been successful in giving me cooties.”

  “Oh.”

  “If you’d like, you can go into the other room and tell Dr. Stanton Adam worked hard to give me a serious case of cooties, but that if she’d mind her own business until my next period, that’d be great.”

  “Your next what?”

  I peeked out from under the pillow in time to witness Veronica’s wicked smile. “My next period. My menstrual cycle. Dr. Stanton would love to explain the details to you.”

  While I loved Veronica’s special brand of evil, I worried about Marshal surviving his foray into reproductive education. Adding fuel to the fire might keep him distracted from everything going on and buy Veronica a chance to shower and get dressed before we were dragged out of the bedroom and forced to face reality again. “Doctors are the best people to explain a woman’s reproductive health to someone. You should ask her. While you’re at it, ask about men’s reproductive health, too. It’s important, and you can get a better understanding of how best to take care of your sister should a niece or nephew be confirmed as on the way. You’re going to have a lot of work to do as a young uncle. I’m still hazy on the details, but I think it involves making certain Veronica is the happiest woman alive for a period of nine months.”

  Marshal narrowed his eyes. “Why is that important?”

  “I don’t want your sister to beat me when your niece or nephew is born,” I confessed.

  Veronica glared at me. “Adam!”

  “What? It’s true. I don’t.”

  “Adam.”

  “I spent the first fifteen years of my life listening to my mother describe how awful I was to bring into the world,” I muttered. According to her, I’d about killed her over a period of sixteen hours, and it was my duty to behave and stop giving her gray hairs.