A Guiding Light Read online

  A black monster of a horse waited for me, his mane and tail so long he practically oozed grace and nobility. He wasn’t a Friesian, although I wasn’t sure what he was. The man handling him was taller than I was, his dark hair falling into his face, and the way he kept shoving it aside implied he was long overdue for a trim.

  “Now that’s a horse,” Ian said, whistling his admiration.

  Focusing my attention on the horse, I decided his breed was big, and I understood why Daniel counted the horse as a secret weapon. The stallion’s hooves could easily cave in a skull, and the bulky animal probably packed a powerful kick. If the horse didn’t like me, he’d probably reduce me to a smear.

  “Okay, that is one impressive horse,” I admitted.

  Daniel gestured for me to move closer. “His name is Runs Amok, and the fastest way to piss him off is to use a crop. A stablehand hit him once, and his first line of defense against a riding crop is to bite. Go on and introduce yourself.”

  How the hell was I supposed to introduce myself to a horse? I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to do it’d been so long, so I stepped forward and held out my hand, hoping I wouldn’t lose any fingers to his teeth.

  Runs Amok snorted and looked me over like I might be his dinner, and I gave Daniel a doubtful look.

  Daniel grinned. “You’re not the first person to be frightened of that big baby.”

  “Runs Amok is only annoyed because we’ve interrupted his morning routine.” Runs Amok’s handler gestured to the black fabric draped over the horse’s body and covering his chest. “This is bullet proof, and the bridle has some enchantments to help make him—and you—harder to hit. So, as long as he remains bridled and you’re mounted, you’ll have a few extra layers of protection. Of course, it won’t save you from someone’s talent, but it’ll help.”

  I went cold at the man’s pleasant voice, which I recognized from countless news reports and speeches.

  What the hell was His Royal Majesty of Montana doing at ground zero? A headache brewed behind my eyes. “And here I thought you’d be somewhere playing with your newly stolen rocket launcher, Your Majesty.”

  “I wouldn’t call it stolen. I’d call it temporarily relocated. I’ll give it back once you’re done securing your kingdom. It was best in my hands. The military is now short several rocket launchers, as I may have confiscated them all during my visit to the military base. You might want to look into security after your coronation. Also, take it from me—leash the New Yorkers. New Yorkers are dangerous.”

  “Isn’t your wife a New Yorker, Your Majesty?”

  “This is why I’m giving you fair warning.” His Royal Majesty of Montana flicked a salute to Ian. “Ian.”

  “Please forgive me for being part of my family, Your Majesty,” Ian replied.

  “You’re fine. You never did anything to Mackenzie. Hell, I saw you go out of your way to bring her a drink in New York and set an example for everyone else. I prefer to judge a man by what I see rather than what I’m told by idiots wanting to stir trouble. Now, that said, please try not to kidnap future monarchs going forward, but if you want to help Mr. Smith settle into his role once this mess is over, I’ll help you with the advisory paperwork.”

  “Can I bring over some staff?”

  “Have someone in mind?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Send me the dossiers for the staff members you want to bring over, and I’ll see what I can do. I’ve already contacted the New York Royal Family about your presence here, and you’re officially cleared to be here for a month.”

  Foreseeing a migraine in my immediate future, I closed the distance between us. If Runs Amok took a few of my fingers, I’d be able to delay the inevitable for a few minutes. The stallion lipped my fingers without using his teeth, and once he finished slobbering on me, I rubbed his nose. “Why are you here, Your Majesty?”

  “My wife threatened to kill me if I didn’t show up and help, especially as I refused to allow her to come until the fighting was over. It’s also my job in the Royal States. When things go from bad to worse, it usually falls to me to resolve the problem. If you need non-violent crowd control, I’m your man. Anyway, Mackenzie insisted I loan you her horse, as I believe she’s hoping you’ll trample North Dakota’s king while you’re riding him. If I let my queen into North Dakota right now, she’ll reduce the entire kingdom to rubble with her bare hands, and I really doubt anyone would be able to stop her. I certainly can’t. She laughs at me whenever I try to boss her around.”

  “Please thank her for me.”

  “Of course. All right, since you’ve been out of the loop for at least eighteen years, here’s what you need to know. You must be witnessed issuing a challenge when you reach the military. You can issue the challenge to any member of the armed forces, and that will be all you need to meet the minimum requirements. Daniel and Jack will have a body camera recording, and there are cameras on the horses, too. I expect there will be reporters crawling around the front lines, so you should be fine on being recorded for your challenge. If I were you, I would inform him he has the right to surrender his crown to you or face you in an official challenge. His refusal will clear you of wrong doing, and we expect immediate refusal.”

  “Understood, Your Majesty.”

  “Good. Now, about Runs Amok here. First, he is trained to protect his rider. He will do this in any way he deems fit, which will inevitably cause you problems. He likes to jump, which is why I have you using an English saddle. I wanted to give you a western saddle, but a saddle horn to the gut when you’re not expecting it would be a problem. I’ve been told you have some experience riding.”

  “It’s been a while.”

  “You’ll remember, and Runs Amok is tolerant of beginner riders. Hell, Mackenzie can’t stay in the saddle half the time anyway. You’ll be a refreshing change for him, I’m sure. There aren’t many as wretchedly bad at riding as my queen. I can’t even put her in an English saddle. She just topples right off the other side of her horses.”

  “I’m not that bad,” I spluttered.

  “As I haven’t met anyone as bad as Mackenzie, don’t worry about it. Runs Amok will take care of you.”

  “Maybe the horse should take over the kingdom.”

  “He’d be terrible at making policies.”

  That Montana’s king had a sense of humor stunned me into silence, and when I didn’t reply, he shoved the stallion’s reins into my hands. “Get mounted while I introduce Prince Ian and the Penshires to the horses they’ll be riding. They’re going to need a bit more cajoling than Runs Amok here, who understands when someone other than Mackenzie rides him, it’s important.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “I’d say any time, but I’d rather not have to participate in any more rebellions if possible. One is enough for my lifetime.”

  I agreed with him, and with a resigned sigh, I stuffed my foot into the stirrup and swung up onto Runs Amok’s back. The stallion stood still and pricked his ears forward, which I took as a promising sign. I patted his proudly arched neck, settled in the saddle, and waited.

  Within ten minutes, Ian and my parents were mounted, my pockets were filled with more explosives than I cared to think about, I wore a shoulder holster and Peter’s gun, and I was as ready as I would be to do the last thing I’d ever dreamed of doing when I’d been tossed to the curb eighteen years ago.

  I rode to war to claim what had been taken from me.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The mystery of how we’d make it from the back of the crowd to the front was solved with a single angry snort from Runs Amok, who viewed the throng with equine disgust, his ears cocked back. I kept a firm hold on the reins, hoping the animal wouldn’t decide to make a path by walking over those who didn’t get out of our way.

  His snort captured the attention of those nearby, and the instant their attention shifted from the horse to me, stunned recognition birthed a wave of whispers. Had I been anyone els
e, had I even been in my father’s shoes, I might’ve found the ripple effect amusing.

  Runs Amok snorted again and bobbed his head, lifted his hoof, and clicked it against the asphalt. I’d never understood why people used pins to describe the deep silence, but I could hear my breathing and the creaking of the saddle beneath me.

  “Excuse me, please,” I said, careful to keep my voice quiet, as I had no doubt my deep voice would carry over the crowd if I pushed my luck.

  Later, I’d have to reevaluate my public-speaking skills, as I doubted my three-word introduction would win me any awards. I might even earn some ribbing over it from Ian, who could charm a crowd given half a chance to shine. While ineloquent and simplistic, my request got the job done. The people nearby shuffled out of the way, as did those farther ahead. While aware there could be the king’s mercenaries in the crowd, I nudged Runs Amok forward, and the horse adopted a purposeful walk, his head held high so he could look down his nose at the people surrounding us.

  The wise kept far out of his reach, and I was astonished no one tested their luck or Runs Amok’s patience. I suspected Daniel and Jack had something to do with that, as they openly carried their weapons. Ian was a recognizable force of nature, as New York often put their princes and princesses on display for the world to see. I couldn’t afford to twist in the saddle to check if my RPS agents were scanning the crowd; I’d have to watch recordings of our small progression later to discover how they did their job when trapped in the middle of a crowd determined to watch our every move.

  Had anyone told me the sea of people would part with three simple words, I would’ve laughed.

  Nothing worked as I expected. I’d expected something, not solemn regard and the full of attention of thousands looking at me to somehow give them what they desired. Riots happened, but I hadn’t anticipated a rebellion being such a civil affair.

  They had a goal, and they looked to me to accomplish it.

  Great. Even more pressure.

  In the hotel room, discussing tanks and the military hadn’t bothered me; I supposed the reality had been too remote. Four tanks blocked the road leading to the castle gates, and they were manned by several soldiers, who watched the crowd, their faces obscured by their helmets. More soldiers stood behind the tanks, armed with fully automatic rifles with one purpose: to kill.

  I discovered a new appreciation for my father’s talent when dealing with at least fifty military men trained in how to most effectively use their weapons, and that was excluding their magical talents. Assuming I survived, I’d have to find out how much firepower, magical and mundane, I stared down while astride a horse owned by Montana’s queen.

  Runs Amok snorted at the tanks as though they offended him, his ears flattened back.

  I hoped the horse didn’t decide to attack a tank while I was on his back. The tank would probably win, and I’d have to explain to Montana’s king why I let his queen’s horse attack a tank.

  The soldiers engaged me in a silent staring contest, and I had no doubt if they knew what I was thinking, the entire lot of them would die of laughter.

  Too bad it wasn’t a viable strategy.

  “My name is Adam Smith, and I have the signed authorization of Montana, Hawaii, California, New York, and Alaska to demand justice in form of a royal duel between myself and His Royal Majesty of North Dakota. Alternatively, he may choose to surrender and face the court for the murder of his queen and the attempted murder of his son, Prince Marshal. Send word to the king he is being summoned to face justice for his crimes. The documentation is available as a public record if you require it.”

  While I had the approval of most kingdoms in the Royal States, I wouldn’t complicate matters more than necessary. For my purposes, the five kingdoms who’d also supported Veronica’s filing would do.

  The nearest soldiers exchanged looks before turning to face one of the men in the front row behind the tanks. “Sir?” one asked.

  “We are under no obligation to pander to the illegal request of a rebellion.”

  As I refused to turn Runs Amok into a larger target than he already was, I twisted in the saddle to look over the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen of North Dakota, it seems this peaceful protest may not remain peaceful. The so-called king will face justice for the murder of his wife and attempted murder of his son. Those of you who are unable to fight to see that justice secured, I recommend you make space for those who are.”

  “Inciting a revolt is punishable by death,” the soldier snapped.

  I straightened in the saddle, turned, and looked down my nose at the man. “In accordance to Royal States Foundation law, I am a legal challenger to the throne. Your so-called king has violated his oath to his wife and queen, resulting in her death at his order. Your so-called king has violated his oath to his people. He is unfit to rule. He has put his personal greed over the needs of his people. By the deeds of his hands and order, he is no king. Summon the accused so he might face justice for his crimes. If civil war is required, so be it, but the will of the people will be heard and justice will be had. Your so-called king has condemned himself through his actions and has no one to blame but himself, and it is time he is tried for his crimes.”

  At my arrival, the soldiers had stood straight, tall, and alert, but uncertainty now bent their postures.

  “We do not obey the demands of traitors, and that is the will of your rightful king.”

  “According to the rest of the Royal States, sir, I am the rightful king.”

  I hoped I’d met the minimum requirements set out for me by Montana’s king, as I’d already reached my limit on how much I wanted to deal with a soldier, likely one of the king’s mercenaries, who meant to ensure there’d be a civil war.

  “Sir?” one of the soldiers asked.

  “Silence,” their leader barked. “We do not give in to the demands of an illegal rebellion. Should any advance, open fire.”

  “But sir!”

  “If any advance, open fire.”

  Runs Amok slammed his hoof against the ground and lunged forward a stride before halting and snorting. If I survived the mayhem, I’d have to inform Montana’s king that his queen’s horse was the worst asshole I’d ever met, although I gave credit where credit was due.

  Perhaps one soldier had the sense to protest idiocy, but the rest obeyed orders.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The tank with its barrel pointed directly at me and Runs Amok would never be the same.

  I almost felt sorry for it and the men operating it. First, the barrel burst into white-hot flames, transforming from a steel shaft of death to molten slag. The sting of melting metal annoyed a snort and a rear from Runs Amok, and I clamped my legs around the horse’s barrel while I clutched the reins and his thick main to keep from falling. Standing in the stirrups to keep from falling on my ass wasn’t my idea of a good time, but once Runs Amok stood on his hind hooves, he showed no interest in returning to all fours like a sensible beast.

  Then, since the damned stallion hadn’t caused me enough trouble, he screamed a challenge.

  I suspected my father was the responsible party, but someone took offense to the tank. Thanks to the barrel having a meltdown, the soldiers abandoned ship before it crunched like a tin can. There was also the crack-bang of something detonating inside, but a shimmering sphere prevented any of the flaming shrapnel from hitting me or anyone in the crowd.

  Runs Amok chose that moment to lunge forward and lash his hooves out at the nearest soldier.

  Assuming Runs Amok didn’t get me killed, I’d go down in history as the man who let a damned horse start a civil war.

  I hoped Montana’s queen was happy with herself for owning a devil and loaning him to me.

  To make matters worse, I wasn’t the only idiot willing to charge the front lines, although I suspected Ian joined in because he wanted to and not because his horse had a mind of its own. The New Yorker laughed, and a column of fire erupted from the ground in front of us, scatteri
ng the soldiers from their formation. “Maybe someone should have told you it isn’t strategically wise to lead a charge on your own without warning anyone. In good news, you surprised everyone except your mother, who told your father he needed to crunch a tank as soon as you decided you had enough of their shit.”

  “The horse got tired of their shit,” I protested. “I didn’t.”

  “After this is over, I’m dedicating at least a full hour to laughing at you.”

  As I deserved it, I didn’t protest my inevitable embarrassment.

  Ian’s horse seemed offended by the soldiers, and the instant the column of flames died away, the animal lunged forward, striking out with its hooves and snapping its teeth at anyone who was foolish enough to stand close. The gunfire I expected didn’t come.

  The red-hot gun barrels had something to do with that, and the soldiers howled, flinging their weapons to the ground.

  “Inside,” Ian barked. “We’ve jumped the gun and need to make sure Veronica and the others can get out.”

  Our plan had been, in essence, as simplistic as they got, and I’d managed to screw it up with the help of a horse. “What the hell are we supposed to do inside?”

  “We let the crowd deal with the soldiers and we deal with the king. What else? We’re mounted, and if I can’t protect you in a surprise assault, no one can.”

  “Excuse me?” my mother demanded.

  “And her.”

  My father cleared his throat somewhere behind me.

  “Him, too.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, giving Runs Amok a nudge with my heels and cursing at the throb in my calf. The horse surged forward, jumped, and bucked while I clung to the animal’s back and cursed him for his pigheaded stupidity. “A good horse my ass!”

  Ian laughed like a maniac, and while Runs Amok turned me into an easy target with his antics, Ian raised another vortex of flame, which did a good job of widening our gap so we could charge down the road to the castle gates.