Null & Void_a Royal States Novel Read online

  Really? Later, once I found my daughter, I’d wait for her to go to sleep, safe and sound in her bed, I’d pull out the emergency bottle of wine I kept hidden under the sink. Mireya knew about it, and for my birthday last year, she’d coerced my boss into adding to my collection.

  By dawn, I’d be so hungover I’d need an intervention to go to work. In fact, I’d skip work. I’d spend the day sick and exploring new schooling options for my daughter.

  We both deserved better than my fifty thousand a year had bought us.

  I lifted my chin and demonstrated the proper way to glare down one’s nose at an adversary. “Have I issued any threats? Screamed at you? Accused your school of neglect? Called the police? No, I haven’t. I’m expecting answers, and when I’m not getting them, I’m making phone calls to places she might’ve gone. Have I made a single unreasonable request of you? No, I haven’t. Don’t you have children, Mrs. Whiteley?”

  I knew, for certain, the woman did. Her daughter attended classes with my daughter, and if Mireya was correct, Heather came dead last in the pack, attending Huntington Academy only because her mother taught there and had the money to pay for a grades exemption.

  The teacher opened her mouth, and I held up my hand. “Only someone who doesn’t have children would think I’m being unreasonable. Fact: my daughter is missing. Fact: this is where she should’ve been prior to taking the bus home. Fact: the bus didn’t stop at our home. Fact: this academy hires good drivers who take their jobs seriously. She’s the only child attending this school where we live. Don’t you have surveillance tapes? Where did my daughter go after your class?”

  Mrs. Whiteley’s expression turned neutral, and she blanched. “We don’t track the whereabouts of null children after classes, Miss Little.”

  “You mean null child, as there’s only one attending Huntington Academy. I pay your school fifty thousand a year to ensure she has equal treatment. I pay an extra thousand a year for the Royal Protection Service to conduct background and security checks. I pay an additional five hundred in registration fees to ensure her admittance in the advanced placement classes, as Texas law values the circumstances of one’s birth more than their intellect and accomplishments. I pay so she has a chance to avoid the discrimination people like you put me through every day of my childhood. Explain to me why, exactly, my daughter isn’t receiving the benefits I pay so much for?”

  My fury crested, but to my disappointed, I didn’t incinerate the building to ash. Mrs. Whiteley gaped and spluttered.

  My phone rang, sparing her from having to formulate an intelligible reply. “Little,” I snapped.

  “She hasn’t been to Congressional Hall today, Mackenzie. Where was she last seen?”

  “Her school. It seems they don’t feel they have to uphold their legal contract to provide my daughter with the equal treatment I pay for each year. Her activities, even as their top-scoring student, weren’t being monitored.”

  “Have you called the police?”

  “I’ll be calling the police next,” I replied, rather than simply confirming I would be. I hoped the teachers squirmed.

  I hoped they felt a fraction of the terror writhing under my skin.

  “I’ll take care of the police. They’ll move a little faster if I point out you’re a new congressional appointee qualifying for RPS protection if necessary. Mireya will also qualify. Null or not, they’ll get moving.”

  “Thank you, Senator.”

  Mrs. Whiteley choked something, her face turning a sickly gray-green.

  “Do you have any possible leads?”

  I swallowed and cleared my throat, hoping I could prevent my voice from wavering. “She wanted to ask some classmates over for dinner. That’s it. She wouldn’t have run away.”

  Would she? Would their rejection make my daughter run away from home? I had asked her to control herself if she was rejected. Had they hurt her and she wasn’t willing to come home to me because of their bullying?

  Senator Forester sighed. “Don’t eliminate it as a possibility, but I don’t think she would have. The police will look into it. They’ll talk with me mostly, but don’t be surprised if someone calls you with questions. Listen, and listen carefully, Mackenzie. As you’re to be the head of a committee organizing a large, prestigious event, it is possible someone might try to use your daughter against you.”

  “I spend most of my paychecks sending her to that school. I do that so she’ll be safe.”

  I sounded far too calm. I should have been shrieking the words, but they came out devoid of life or emotion.

  Statements, and nothing more.

  “I know, Mackenzie. I know. Keep yourself together. I’ll get to work on the visitation clause, and at the same time, I’ll make sure the child-trafficking clause is also pushed through, and I’ll showcase Mireya to do it, if necessary. All it takes is a single scare to wake people up. I’ll call for an emergency session, and if I can get it passed, I’ll run the bill to the king and queen myself for signing. Then, if this is somehow related to her father, your rights are guaranteed. All right?”

  There was nothing else I could do, so I agreed, and unable to think of a single thing to say to the teachers who had been responsible for my daughter, I spun on a heel and left.

  Waiting wasn’t my style, not after Senator Forester’s warning someone might go after Mireya because of my involvement with the Texas charity auction. I hated myself for my thoughts, for everything I’d done, and hated the choices I’d made.

  One cruel reality stabbed at me over and over until I wanted nothing more than to hide under my bed for the rest of my life.

  I had fought for null rights to keep my child. It hadn’t truly occurred to me I might lose my child to secure those rights for everyone else. Every day, every new case to cross my desk, I’d wondered—and feared—what life would be like if it happened to me and Mireya.

  Now I knew, and I wondered if we’d become the sacrificial goats for the Texas congress, bled dry for the sake of a brighter future. As long as Mireya survived, she’d understand. She always understood far more than I wanted her to.

  And unlike me, she wouldn’t hesitate. If she believed, for an instant, moving on into the world without me would win the fight I’d dedicated so much of my life to, she’d do it without looking back.

  She knew what was at stake despite my efforts to shelter her from reality.

  I clung to the hope I could, and I began my search with a rental car. If she’d been afraid to come home, there was one place she’d go above all others: the library. When she’d first started using libraries as safe havens, I’d wondered. Then, after some parental spying, I’d determined her solution for dealing with what she didn’t understand was to learn to understand them, which meant reading.

  Every weekend, we went to one of three libraries, and she lost hours in the reference section while I snuck in extra work waiting for her to get her fill. Sometimes, entire days slipped away where we arrived at opening and left at dinner. Those days inevitably ended with tantrums.

  I liked lunch. She’d rather have books.

  She usually won.

  I drove to the library down the street from Huntington Academy and struggled with my urge to run through the place to find my daughter. I took my time, checking her favorite sections. She wasn’t there, and I went to the desk to ask if she’d put in any reservations for books.

  Whenever Mireya could, she’d use the academy computers to reserve books online so we could plan a trip to her favorite place in the world.

  The head librarian, Livia, spotted me, burst into laughter, and turned to her cart, thumping a monster stack of travel guides on the counter. “Mireya called in for these this afternoon, so I thought I’d see you Saturday. She must have worked you over real good for her birthday this year if you’re considering a cross-country trip. I gave you an early birthday present, Mackenzie. You should’ve seen her original list of books. I suggested these to spare your back.”

  I coun
ted spines, my eyebrows rising as I realized there was a book for every kingdom in North America, including Mexico, which wasn’t a part of the Royal States. The librarian had even stacked them by type, with the original sixteen royal families and their kingdoms on top of the eight democratic monarchies. “My back appreciates it. Currently, my boss is siding with her, so she might get her way.”

  “She seemed pretty excited when she called. Don’t tell her I told you, but she’s already budgeting out the entire trip. You’re going to have your hands full. What I don’t understand is why she requested a complete collection of the Royal Inheritances. We won’t get it back until next week, but it’s reserved for her. That’s a fifty-volume set. You’re going to need a car to take it home.”

  I slumped over the counter and banged my head onto the polished wood. “I’ll bring a car to get them.”

  Livia patted my head. “It’ll be all right. There’s far worse things that she could be studying. One of her classmates was in here the other day looking into the sexual reproduction of banana slugs.”

  Without raising my head, I dug into my purse, grabbed my wallet, and dropped it on the counter. “There’s a library card in there somewhere, I’m sure.”

  “Or I can just type in your number because I had it memorized years ago. I’ll get these checked out for you. You don’t have a bag, though.”

  “I’ve got a rental today.”

  “Tell Mireya I said hello, would you? I’ll give you a call if I get a line on an earlier copy of the Royal Inheritances. Everyone seems to want a copy of it today. I’m really not sure why. Usually, that set only gets checked out once a year.”

  I knew why, and the reason was far different from my daughter’s. I hadn’t even begun work on it yet, and I already hated the charity auction and everything it stood for despite being unable to hate myself for participating in the system.

  Without it, I wouldn’t have had Mireya at all.

  The next time I dreamed of Dylan Mason, I needed to kick him in the shins for turning my life upside down.

  The stack of books solidified my belief Mireya hadn’t run away; when upset or excited, she fixated on studying, and she’d called the library with the intention of having me pick up books so she could look for her father. If she ran away, I couldn’t pick up books I hadn’t known she’d reserved.

  At Livia’s suggestion, I checked out a few extra books on my own to surprise my daughter with once I found her, and one I’d picked served a single purpose: I meant to research the the elites, the ones permitted to wear the platinum pentagram, to help her find her father.

  I’d already done limited research and hadn’t found a thing, but I’d repeat my work, and this time, I’d let Mireya help. Then she’d know, without a shadow of a doubt, I wanted her to meet her father. When I found my daughter, I’d erase every doubt I could and pray she’d always stay close to me.

  I checked every library within walking distance as calculated by Mireya, who viewed miles as obstacles to overcome. To my dismay, she’d placed additional orders for books, and by the time I hit all of her favorite roosts, the rental’s trunk had over a hundred titles for her enjoyment, most of them on geography, travel, and the monarchies of the Royal States.

  At the fourth stop, I checked out a dictionary so I could remind her of the definition of moderation.

  With the libraries a bust, I went to her second favorite place to go, which was the park near the academy, the perfect place for her to read where it was quiet, a natural sanctuary in the heart of Dallas’s noisy bustle. I parked several blocks away, cursed Dallas traffic, and took a few minutes to slow my breathing so I wouldn’t run down the street like a mad woman.

  My phone rang, and I snatched the device, swiping my finger across the screen. “Little.”

  “Can you get a car for the day?” Senator Forester asked.

  “I’ve already got one. Not long before she left school, she put in a bunch of book reservations for Saturday pickup. My rental is full of text books. That’s not the behavior of a child intending to run away.”

  “Deep breaths, Mackenzie. I might have a lead on where she is, and I’m fairly certain everything’s fine. Go to the Rush Creek Yacht Club at Lake Ray Hubbard.”

  Yacht club? Why would Mireya go to a yacht club? “A what club?”

  “Yacht, Mackenzie. They’re overpriced, fancy boats.”

  “Did you find my daughter?”

  “Found is a strong word, as I refuse to use it until she’s in your custody, but I have a very strong lead. Can you get to Lake Ray Hubbard?”

  My rental had a navigation system, so I tapped in the name of the yacht club. “I can be there in twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  I’d never been to Lake Ray Hubbard, and going anywhere near large bodies of water worried me, but if Mireya had somehow left Dallas, I’d chase after her, even if it meant I had to jump in a lake. If the water was cold, and I’d been told repeatedly water was the bane of people like me, I probably wouldn’t survive to tell the tale. I could swim, barely, and I’d only learned as a child before my allergies had turned crippling.

  The hot water cutting out during a shower could kill me. I assumed lakes would show no mercy.

  Traffic turned what should have been a twenty-minute drive into a forty-minute nightmare, and I clutched the steering wheel with white knuckles the entire way. I was my own worst enemy, and my thoughts betrayed me as often as not.

  Had Mireya been taken? Had she gone on her own? Why a lake? I could handle a skyscraper. I’d climb the outside of it without hesitation to get my daughter back. But a lake?

  No matter how hard I tried, my body would betray me.

  My real fears lurked, and only few knew of them. Had someone seen her, seen Dylan Mason in her, and taken her away without notice? With or without Texan citizenship, the law allowed it. I’d always hated being a null and void existence, but never more in that moment, when everything hung on the benevolence of a man I could barely remember yet still loved all the same.

  I’d do more than kick Dylan Mason’s shins if I encountered him in my dreams again. If I believed, for a second, he’d taken my daughter from me, I’d feed him a knuckle sandwich. I would’ve welcomed him to share her, and I’d regret every minute he hadn’t seen her grow into the treasure she was.

  But I’d hate him for all eternity if he took her away from me.

  All I needed was the tiniest spark of magic to keep my daughter safe, and fury hadn’t woken it. Fear hadn’t, either.

  I had plenty of terror.

  If only I could prove, without a doubt, I possessed magic, not even a royal could take her from me without a fight.

  It was all I could think about the entire drive, and when I pulled into the guest parking lot at the yacht club, I shook. Four limousines waited in the adjacent members’ lot, and I spotted Senator Forester speaking with a woman in a sundress so short a stiff breeze would give the world a good look at her panties.

  Maybe Dylan had thought my legs were worth millions, but I’d never hold a candle to the woman’s casual beauty. She didn’t even wear makeup, and her pale hair was piled haphazardly on her head, strands of it flying loose from the claw struggling to contain it.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d bothered shaving my legs. I never wore anything other than slacks or jeans, so I never saw the point. If I tried to wear a sundress like hers, I’d die the first time I stepped into air conditioning.

  Sighing, I grabbed my purse, locked the rental, and marched towards the pair. “Senator Forester.”

  “One day, Mackenzie, you’re going to have to tell me your secrets. How do you manage to look so damned calm all the time?”

  “Appearances are deceiving. You missed me dressing down Mireya’s teacher, and I white-knuckled my way here.”

  “I’m almost certain Mireya was invited to go on an impromptu yacht outing with some classmates. Knowing kids, her common sense dribbled right out of her pre
tty little ears. Mackenzie, this is Deidre, the older sister of the likely troublemakers. She’s a close friend of my son’s, and he’s out on the water today. He called me when he thought he spotted Mireya on of the yachts and thought it unusual you weren’t with her.”

  Unusual was one way to put it. I shook my head and laughed, the tension easing at the thought my child had done something I’d always encouraged her to do.

  Despite our status, she may have made friends, something I’d never been able to do.

  So I wouldn’t break down into a bubbling heap, I focused on Deidre and held out my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Deidre.”

  I could always tell if someone was prejudiced by how they viewed my hand, especially without gloves. I couldn’t even remember where my gloves had gone, although I expected I’d left the somewhere, like the condo, although my office was a possibility.

  Deidre smiled, laughed, and shook my hand without sign of fear. “You might regret thinking it’s a pleasure if my devil brothers have gotten a hold of your daughter, Miss Little. I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re a delightful thorn in Lane’s side.”

  “I try,” I murmured.

  “You succeed. You should challenge Lane for his position. You’d give the entire congress a seizure. I’d pay good money to watch your hostile takeover of the ethics committee. That’d be a sight; an ethical woman leading a committee dedicated to ethics. You could start a revolution.”

  Senator Forester shuddered and clutched his chest. “Don’t give her ideas. If she ever decides to become a real politician, we’re doomed. I think she brings young Mireya to sessions to put us all to shame. Every time she stands behind the podium, she reminds us we still have a thing or two to learn about power plays.”

  I scowled at the senator. “In reality, I can’t afford a babysitter, and she enjoys working on her homework while waiting for the session to finish.”

  “I’ve always wanted to ask. What is your position? You’re not an aide, but you’re not a member of the congress, either.” Deidre clasped her hands in front of her, and I recognized her pose as a habit many elite adopted when they wanted to relax but spoke with someone they respected or didn’t want to insult.