Null & Void_a Royal States Novel Page 14

  He drove me crazy.

  “Did you do what I told you?” he demanded after he’d finished leaving me a wrecked mess.

  Damn him and his sinful presence in my dreams. “Three hundred a month,” I complained. And, to get back at him for leaving me to raise our daughter alone, I added, “Plus birth control.”

  “Birth control?” Maybe I couldn’t really see him, but I could sense his scowl. “Are you seeing someone?”

  Finally, I’d found something the dream-version of my one-time lover didn’t know. “Not yet. I’m thinking I might tease our daughter for a while, suggesting I’ll put myself up on auction for some annoying elite’s evening fling. It’ll drive her nuts, as she’s been hinting, rather insistently, she’d like siblings and a father figure in her life. As she’s made herself some new friends who have siblings, I suspect she wants a little brother or sister of her own. She asked Dr. Glaskow about male reproduction at the hospital.”

  “No. No, no, no. Absolutely not. The only one allowed to buy you at auction is me.”

  I huffed. “Then you better show up and bid on me, Dylan Mason, and if you even think about trying to take our daughter away from me, they’re going to find bits of your body scattered all over Texas. Someone taught me what drawing and quartering is, and I’ll even learn how to ride a horse if necessary to properly murder you.”

  “You misunderstand, Mackenzie Little. When I come calling, I’m coming for you. I’ll take our daughter as a special prize, but you’re my main target. If you’re lucky, I’ll ask you to come with me nicely. If you’ve been naughty, or if you let your prescription lapse, I’ll steal you in the middle of the night, and I’ll take you wherever I feel like, stuff your medications down your throat, and breathe down your neck until you swear you’ll never let your prescription lapse ever again.”

  “If you don’t want my prescription lapsing, you have one chance to convince me I should welcome you back. My legs are worth millions, you said so myself. If you want a piece of this package, you better be willing to pay for it, because I’m not letting you get away with a steal again, Mr. Mason.”

  “I like it when you talk dirty,” he growled. “Challenging me isn’t wise, Mackenzie. I don’t like losing.”

  “Then you better convince me you’re better than the competition. You’re good in bed, but will you be a good father for our daughter?”

  “You’ll find out,” he swore. “Just you wait and see.”

  My subconscious truly hated me, because I wished my dreams would come true.

  In her effort to prevent me from going to work, my daughter tried to withhold coffee. I found the filters on top of the fridge, she had hidden the coffee in the bathroom, and she had shoved the pot under my bed. By the time I made myself a coffee and took my first dose of unsupervised medication, I was the not-so-proud parent of a demonic entity.

  Mireya sulked on the couch with her books. “You’re supposed to stay home, Mom. You’re sick.”

  “Spawnling, if I stay home doing nothing, I will go insane. You wouldn’t want your mom to go insane, would you?”

  She glared at me but didn’t reply, which I interpreted as my victory. I drank my coffee, I packed my briefcase, and to make Mireya happy, I wore my leather jacket despite the doctor’s claim I wouldn’t need it. In a leap of faith, I didn’t wear my scarf over my nose and mouth. I brought it with me, draping it across my shoulders.

  Mireya grumbled complaints, but she showered and got dressed, her expression promising she was on the brink of a tantrum.

  “Go ahead. Pitch a fit. Make my day, miniature human. The louder you get, the more determined I’ll be to go to work to prove you wrong. I’m less likely to be stubborn if you’re cooperative.”

  “I want to go to school.”

  Ah. All things considered, the chance of me relenting and sending her back to Huntington Academy was approximately zero. “You’re taking placement tests on Friday. I see no need to send you to school for two days. You have to earn your board and keep, so you’ve been assigned to be my babysitter for a change. Bring something to study. Look into single royals or something. Then you can continue your ridiculous plan to marry me off. Which won’t work, by the way, but I’ll humor your amusing attempts to select a father for yourself.”

  “Who said I was looking for a father?” my daughter squealed, and the shrill tone of her voice confirmed she was attempting to do just that.

  “Mother’s intuition. That, plus you asked the young, decent-looking doctor if he was single and inquired about his sexual health. I might not hold a candle to you most days, spawnling, but even I can tell when you’re gunning for a little brother or sister. Here’s the deal: as the auction draws closer, I will consider evaluating the eligible bachelors. If there’s one I like, which I find highly unlikely, I may participate.”

  “Really?” she squealed.

  I grimaced and rubbed my ears. “Indoor voice, you demonic entity.”

  “Sorry! And I’m only a little bit evil, Mom. I haven’t earned demonic entity status yet.”

  “I’m so glad to know you’re trying. Anyway, it’s not off the table, but I’m not going to be buying a man off the man-meat market because he happens to be fertile. Am I understood?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “No more asking strangers if they’re fertile.”

  “But Mom, he’s a doctor! I had questions. You always tell me to ask questions when I have them.”

  “Next time, you will refrain from any inquiries on your target’s marital status.”

  “He has two kids,” she complained. “Two and four months old. I thought he was nice.”

  “Stop sulking and get ready to go to work with me. Bring enough homework to keep yourself busy, or you may be recruited by poachers at the office. If you’re recruited by poachers at the office, I don’t want to hear a peep. If you’re studying, no one will bother you.”

  “You’re mean, Mom.”

  “Yes, I’m a tyrant. I know. You’ve told me this several times already this morning. This tyrant will be late for work if you don’t move it, spawnling.”

  While she grumbled, she cooperated, and I made it to work with five minutes to spare, and as warned, the first signs of lethargy kicked in. My boss was in the reception looking over Louisa’s shoulder, and the pair glowered at me.

  “I’m already a tyrant for refusing to stay home and banning Mireya from asking cute single men if they’re fertile. Do your worst,” I challenged, matching them glare for glare.

  “You know where my couch is. Try to reach it before your medications knock you out. I’m not as spry as I used to be, and I’d have to go hunt down one of the handsome young men downstairs to carry you, thus giving your daughter certain ideas.”

  “If you give my daughter any more ideas, and I’ll make certain your wife hears about it,” I hissed.

  “Mom, be nice to Mr. Douglass.”

  Since scolding my daughter for siding with my boss would make me eligible for a bad parent of the year award, I surrendered the battle and headed for my office, muttering curses under my breath.

  “You’re in a bad mood this morning, Mom.”

  “You tried to withhold coffee from me.”

  “I’ll go get you one,” Mireya whispered, turning tail and running away.

  I narrowed my eyes and watched her go, considering the advantages of owning my own young slave. If she made my coffee right, I’d forgive her for her misguided attempts to keep me at home for the day. I went to work, bracing myself for the nightmare of catching up from my hospital stay.

  I made it through three emails before the medications kicked my ass, leaving me with barely enough energy to browse the internet without falling asleep and drooling on my keyboard.

  I researched potential schools for Mireya, and mindful of the unpleasantly good advice from my dream with Dylan, I looked at options outside of Dallas.

  Hatred over the idea of sending her away for any length of time soured me on the schoo
ls, but I had to admit there were good—often better—options if I was willing to board her somewhere. In Houston, there were two boarding schools that ranked students purely on academic potential; magical ranking was barred, and no emblems were permitted. The price tag would bankrupt me unless she placed in the top five of her grade every year.

  If I didn’t mind sending her abroad, there were international academies that rotated the student body, with students flying to the next school every few months. The immersion programs focused on international affairs and promised each student emerged multilingual.

  The testing fees alone were ten thousand dollars, and there were no refunds for failure.

  None of the other schools I investigated met my standards. It didn’t matter. If she was accepted to attend either of the schools that met standards, I’d only be able to afford to send her for a year or two at best.

  As always, my thoughts returned to my dangerous third option, attempting to force my magic awake, but I shied away from the idea. In my dreams, Dylan had been right.

  Mireya needed her mother, and if the safe methods of waking my magic didn’t work, I’d be out of luck.

  While my daughter took over my office, spreading books and papers all over the floor, I researched what I already knew, holding onto the slim hope something had changed. Nothing had. The last progenitor had been discovered some twenty years ago and had married into a royal family, which set my chances of success at approximately zero.

  While I’d sacrifice life and limb for my daughter to give her a better future, I needed to temper my ambitions with sense. Throwing my life away for an impossibility did no one any good. All I’d do was hurt her.

  However badly I wanted to find a faint spark of magic within me, I couldn’t afford the price Mireya would pay. I hated Dylan for being right, and I hated my subconscious for inflicting him on me over and over.

  Why couldn’t I exorcise him from my life?

  The answer pained me as it always did. I loved him, and until I gave up on him, I didn’t have any room in my heart for anyone else.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The rest of the week went by in an exhausted blur. The medications transformed me from a functional adult into a ball of fluffy cotton prone to drifting into walls when I wasn’t careful. It got a little better day by day, and only stubborn pride kept me from taking over my boss’s couch for a much needed nap.

  On Friday, I herded Mireya to my boss’s office, stifling yawns and attempting to start the day without tripping over my feet for a change.

  “Still having trouble with the medications?”

  “I’m ahead of the game. Haven’t run into a wall or tripped yet today. I’m never going to be able to drive Baby at this rate. I don’t think it’ll get better,” I said.

  “Mom, stop whining,” Mireya complained, planting her hands against my back and shoving me towards the couch. “She had a lick of ice cream yesterday and didn’t die.”

  “Traitor,” I grumbled, giving in to the urge to flop onto the leather cushion. My boss was leaving with my daughter soon. He didn’t need his couch. What would one nap hurt?

  “It’s below your allowed temperature.”

  “I had my pens with me, and I’d taken my medication just like prescribed.” I wrinkled my nose and stuck out my tongue. “How can you like that garbage? It’s too sweet. I thought my teeth were going to rot out of my head. More for you, spawnling.”

  My boss laughed. “Don’t like ice cream, do you?”

  “Apparently not. Since I can’t drive, I’ll either need you to drive us or catch a cab. Where is it?”

  In actuality, I hadn’t actually seen Baby yet, although my boss reassured me it was parked in the garage downstairs, waiting for the day I could safely drive. I even had a key featuring a horse, which meant my miniature human had conned my boss out of an evilly expensive vehicle.

  My boss slapped some papers on his desk and waved them in my direction. “I’ll one up you. This is the initial research material for the auction. I’ll take Mireya to the testing center while you deal with this mess. Since I enrolled her, I have to attend. There’s no parental signatures required, and I already have a guardianship authorization, so I can take care of everything. Since you couldn’t be reasonable and stay home this week, you get to deal with the crabby politicians. There’s a congressional session today, and today’s hearing will include the general list of concerns and suggestions. Welcome to the big leagues.”

  I clacked my teeth together so I wouldn’t spew curses and expand my daughter’s already extensive vocabulary. “Are you all right with this, Mireya?”

  If I had good luck for a change, she’d say no.

  My daughter failed to read my mind, laughing at my futile effort to escape from my job. “You’re joking, right? Mr. Douglass likes ice cream. If he’s taking me to the testing center, he’ll pay me ice cream to behave.”

  Damn it. “All right. Call me if there are any problems.”

  My boss chuckled. “We’ll make sure to let you know if there are any changes to our schedule. And Mackenzie?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t stick your head in the freezer to see what it’s like. My limit for ER trips is maxed for the year. Please be careful while we’re gone. I’ll be recruiting someone to watch you at Congressional Hall.”

  “I had one lick of ice cream.”

  “And nothing happened?”

  The tip of my tongue had swelled and my lips had tingled, but I’d manage to hide the reaction from my daughter. “I was fine.”

  “Mireya?”

  “Her lip got a little red, but she seemed fine. I had the pen ready under the table just in case. I couldn’t tell her no, Mr. Douglass. She’s never had ice cream before. She tried where it melted on my cone. She wanted to try a cola with ice in it. I told her no. She had her cola at room temperature.”

  “At least one of you is responsible. Be careful, Mackenzie.”

  “I will,” I promised, and I meant it.

  Texan politicians rarely agreed on anything. It was a sacred rule, one I’d learned to cope with since the day I’d made my first appearance before them. Texans loved a good debate more than life itself, and nothing angered them more than being reined in when an argument broke out.

  For some reason I couldn’t begin to understand, the entire lot of them wanted to turn the charity auction into the world’s largest spectacle. Instead of just allowing men to bid on women, as every other kingdom in the world did when it was their turn to host, they wanted to create an elaborate matchmaking service, one that would end with the auction’s primary bachelor potentially proposing to one of the women.

  I thought it was utterly ridiculous. What sort of bachelor would risk dedicating the rest of his life to someone he’d just met? I thought it went against everything Texas stood for, building on lasting family values.

  But like a stampeding herd of cattle, the entire congress ran with the idea, chattering about their variant of the disaster in the making while waiting for the official start of the session.

  As the unfortunate and increasingly unwilling head of the fledgling auction committee, it fell to me to open the session and bring order to the excited congress. I stood behind the podium, grabbed the gavel, and took fiendish delight in slamming it onto the wooden block, smirking as everyone jumped in their seats and the conversations died away. “We don’t have all day, ladies and gentlemen. Shall we begin?”

  The King’s Herald wasted ten minutes reminding everyone on the rules of congress, including stern warnings against any physical violence, inappropriate language, and that everything was now being recorded and broadcast. When he retreated to the side wall near the exit to observe the session, I grabbed the gavel, took even more delight in pounding the podium, and narrowed my eyes, looking over the quiet crowd of elites.

  I lifted my chin. “You’re really expecting me to find a member of a royal family willing to enter a legally binding agreement to propose to a woman
at an auction?”

  If they wanted someone to lick their feet and just go along with the insanity, they had appointed the wrong woman.

  Someone chuckled, and I swept my gaze over the congress, locating Senator Layman, one of the six men representing Dallas. Most of the time, I actually liked the old fart, as long as we weren’t discussing the rights of nulls and unwed mothers.

  If he had his way, I’d spend my evenings dating men he thought appropriate, and he’d bring a pedigree certificate to assure me he was partnering me with only the best of elite single men.

  “His Royal Majesty of Montana has volunteered to accept the position should we pursue the idea.”

  My eyebrows shot upwards. Since sighing, slumping over the podium, or groaning classified as unprofessional, I stared at Senator Layman. “Unofficial hand count. All in favor?”

  Every hand in the room went up, including the King’s Herald, who couldn’t even vote.

  “All opposed?”

  Every hand in the room went down, and a few people smacked their tables in their hurry to number among the approvers of the measure.

  While I’d done some reading on the proposals since my escape from the hospital, I hadn’t prepared enough, so I winged it, asking, “And has His Royal Majesty of Montana volunteered in writing?”

  With a smile promising trouble, Senator Layman rose and strode down from the third tier, holding out an envelope. I accepted it, examining the red wax imprinted with a galloping horse. Neat handwriting addressed the letter to the Texan Auction Committee. Unfortunately, the committee only had one member: me.

  I broke the seal and skimmed the document, which authorized the committee to propose potential betrothal agreements for Montana’s king.

  I wished I’d made my daughter come to work for me. She would’ve known something about Montana’s royal family. In the near future, I needed to steal her books and start reading up on the North American royal bloodlines.

  “All right. We have a king. Anything else I should know?”