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  “I hope you two have fun,” Morris said. He gave Damon a knowing nod.

  The young couple smiled and walked out of the dining room, holding hands. All arguments were over. Morris slid his hand into Dawn’s and squeezed.

  “It makes you feel twenty again, doesn’t it?” he asked.

  * * * * *

  Damon needed some library time. Kiki needed to take a nap, anyway, so now would be a good time to go and get some research done, research on how to get Patrick in prison with a big guy named Bubba as soon as possible. The man had an insane gleam in his eyes, like he was going to snap at any second. It was best to have this taken care of as soon as possible, before something happened.

  The study room stood empty. All the palace employees were off preparing for the Professors’ Ball, and Kiki’s siblings were probably arguing again, so Damon would have plenty of time to figure out how to nail Patrick. The computer monitors’ flat screens glowed with the City of Frelladon logo, a scroll crowned by a black graduation cap.

  Damon quietly walked over to the computer on the far side of the room and logged onto it. He opened up the Internet browser—luckily, the palace had high-speed wireless service everywhere except for the basement. The king had seen to it that information was free to everyone.

  www.keilarancrimesandcriminals.com. He and his friends used to visit the site back when they were still attending the Frelladon Military Academy, to get a load of all the botched robberies and stupid criminals. Frelladon didn’t have much crime, especially in the past few decades, but it did have a list of Keilara’s laws and Frelladon’s city ordinances. As a teenager, he hadn’t been too interested in checking those out, and he’d stopped going to the site after graduating.

  The green and white display filled the monitor, and after ten minutes of navigating confusing links and going to dead-end pages:

  Crimes against the Crown

  In the Keilaran State, charges for crimes against the crown have historically varied, depending on military status, relationship status with the crown, and previous criminal offenses. Repeat offenders are more likely to receive stiffer punishments, while first time offenders, particularly those of high standing, are more likely to receive the minimum sentence, barring severe crimes such as attempted homicide or homicide.

  Damon swore under his breath. Patrick wasn’t exactly a low-standing member of the community. He was the king’s top general, someone the people of Keilara would trust during the upcoming conflict with Delainia. He had no criminal record, and until today, his reputation was untarnished even before the king. Something else would have to work here. Maybe Damon could find a way to use his family history against him, like his ancestors who had rejected human society and turned themselves into Emoshis a few hundred years ago. All five of the Maxwell siblings were still alive, except for Jesse, Dawn’s ancestor, who hadn’t undergone the transformation with the rest of his family.

  Damon clicked on the Keilara’s Most Wanted page. Perhaps he could use something about Ariel Maxwell, the nastiest of the bunch, who had murdered several people and led bank robberies decades ago. No doubt she was still out there, somewhere, with her smoldering hatred of humans and plotting her next move. There was also a rumor floating around that she was romantically involved with her brother, Marcus. Maybe there was a way to link Patrick to her and ruin his reputation, at least. The two weren’t that different.

  Or maybe not. The King's family reputation didn’t fare too great, either, at least until King Scott ended the Emoshi genocide at the start of his rule and worked to get them more accepted in society. But the Maxwells had been around through the entire genocide, and even though things had changed, their hatred probably had not.

  “Wow,” Damon said, shaking his head. The pressure of the world weighed down on him. After he proposed to Kiki, he would be the future king of Keilara. The future king of all these conflicts.

  “’Wow?’” someone said from behind Damon. “Interesting article, isn’t it?”

  Damon whirled around.

  Green military uniform. Brown hair. Leer. Patrick.

  Instinctively he reached down for his guns, but Patrick held up a hand.

  “Please Damon, there is no need for weapons. I was only asking you a question.” Patrick peered over his shoulder at the computer screen, at Ariel Maxwell’s profile. “You didn't answer it, though.”

  “I didn't know your family had criminal records,” Damon lied. He knew already, but he needed to have as much impact on this ass as he could. He needed to rattle him. “Did you come in here looking for Kiki?”

  “Oh, I know what you're talking about now,” Patrick said, taking a step to the side to get a better view of the criminal profile glowing on the screen. “Ariel. Lovely girl, I heard. Too bad there isn't a picture of her.”

  “Lovely girl? She's killed people. That's lovely to you?” Damon tensed, ready to spring at any second. “And she’s your relative. That doesn’t bother you?”

  Patrick sighed and turned away from Damon for a moment. The man was disgusting.

  "I know why they hate humans. It's because of the Emoshi Genocide,” Damon said. "Look, things are different now. We even have a couple of Emoshis working here. Look at our Events Planner. They shouldn’t still be killing humans, or anyone, for that matter. There's no reason for them to keep up with their killings."

  Patrick slammed his hands on the nearest table and glared deeply into Damon's eyes.

  "Most humans are worthless," Patrick said. "They hate those they don’t understand. It’s their nature. Emoshis? They’re amazing. They should be adored, not beaten. Emoshis have so much more potential. Could you imagine turning twenty and not aging? Living hundreds of years? My ancestors wanted to rise above the rest, and people feared them because they could manipulate peoples’ emotions, even if they chose not to do it. It’s a shame Jesse didn’t join them. I’d love to have their capabilities.”

  Damon had to hold back a smile. Perhaps there was some connection after all.

  "Have you ever heard of forgiveness?" Damon asked, standing up from his chair. He couldn’t show it, though. "This genocide has been over for years now. Most Emoshis have moved on with their lives. I’d never hurt one of them. Yeah, the genocide was sick, but we learn from history. You just like the idea that they can cause harm to people, don't you?"

  "I would enjoy that capability," Patrick said, staring into the air. "So I could use it on certain people."

  Something snapped inside Damon, and he drew his gun and pointed it at Patrick. At the same time, Patrick drew his weapon.

  “I'm one of those people you would just love to harm, aren't I?” Damon asked. “All because you're after her, Kiki. You have a wife. Speaking of which, haven't you harmed her enough as well?”

  “She doesn't know anything,” Patrick said. The gun remained steady in his hand, pointing straight at Damon. “And what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her, can it?”

  “Oh, but she will. That time is coming very soon. You can't hide the truth from her forever. I know where you live, jackass, and you’re going to be too busy with the war soon to be spending much time there.” At last, he had something on Patrick, and something that was going to hurt him badly. “And you wouldn’t shoot me here. The guards will be in here in seconds.”

  Patrick lowered his weapon and nodded. He knew. One shot, and everything would be destroyed. The insane gleam in his eyes brightened and told him one thing: that this was not over.

  Patrick bit his lip like he wanted to say something, but instead, he turned and walked briskly out the door.

  * * * * *

  The servants had set up a table in Kiki and Damon’s bedroom, right in front of their picture window. The city of Frelladon glowed all beyond it as rivers of headlights and taillights weaved in between the skyscrapers. Emery had a table set up in the middle of the room earlier, one with a dark red cloth over it, while Meredith had sprinkled rose petals all over the floor. A pair of candles flickered on either
side of the table, reflecting off the glass of the window like the eyes of some kind protector.

  Kiki smoothed out the wrinkles on her tight-fitting, green dress—it was a romantic night alone, after all—as Damon opened the door with a quiet creak and stepped into the room. She wasn’t used to seeing him in a pair of black dress pants and a white dress shirt with ruffles down the front, or with his hair so neatly combed. His blue eyes reflected the candlelight as they landed on her, tracing all the curves of her body. He looked good.

  Damon might spend a lot of time out at the shooting range, but when it came to doing romantic things for her, nothing else compared. His attention to every detail...his dedication...Kiki wouldn’t have it any other way.

  He flipped the light off, letting the candlelight fill the room. Shadows bounced around on the walls as a yellow tint washed over the floor around the table in a ring. Damon pulled out her chair for her and motioned for her to sit.

  “This is very nice,” she said as she settled in. No, it was perfect. “How did you get this done with the ball downstairs tonight? All the employees are busy. You’re amazing.”

  Damon sat opposite her and shot her a smile, a knowing smile that told her that something was up. He reached down, popped the cork off the wine, and poured her a glass. “When they heard my request, they were glad to help.”

  Kiki couldn’t imagine how Damon had requested this on such a busy night, but she did notice something. His hand trembled a little as he poured his own wine. He hadn’t been like that since their graduation exams back at the Frelladon Military Academy. She opened her mouth to ask if something had happened, but held back. The look in Damon’s eyes told her that it could wait. They had a night together to enjoy first.

  She took a sip of her wine as the head butler, Jack, wheeled in a tray of food to serve them. Without a word, he gave Damon a nod as he set their platters down on the red tablecloth and set out their silverware. Without a word, Jack lifted the lids and left the room, leaving the couple alone again. The sound of his squeaky cart grew fainter as he rolled it down to the elevator.

  “Spaghetti?” Kiki asked.

  “Your childhood favorite.”

  Kiki suppressed the urge to lean over and kiss him. He had really gone out of the way for her this time. None of the cooks made spaghetti for the balls, so this had been a special request.

  But Damon wasn’t eating. He was fumbling in his pocket for something.

  “Well, the food's going to get cold if we don’t eat it,” Kiki said.

  She reached for her fork, but Damon put his hand on hers before it got there. Why? Was there something wrong with the food?

  “Wait,” Damon said. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

  “What is it?” Her heart started to pound before the thought hit her.

  Damon thrust his free hand into his pocket again. Kiki lifted up to see what he was taking out, but the table cloth blocked her curious eyes. He put something on the table, covering it with his trembling hand, but he kept smiling and held her hand even tighter.

  Kiki’s heart started to flutter. Damon didn’t get her presents often, mostly because she already had everything she wanted, except for one thing...

  “Princess Kiki Endicott of Keilara,” he said, shoving the box underneath her hand. “will you marry me?”

  Kiki’s eyes widened and her mouth gaped open. The words seemed to fill the entire room as she lifted her hand off the velvety box he’d slipped under it.

  The ring was perfect, not too complicated or overdone, just how she liked her jewelry. The diamond glittered in the candlelight as she slipped the ring onto her finger and admired it on her hand.

  “Yes!” Kiki couldn’t contain her excitement as she sprang off the chair. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  She ran over to him, jumped on his lap and hugged him. They began kissing passionately, first on the lips, then open-mouthed. The ring box fell to the floor with a thump as Damon held her tighter. He pressed his tongue against hers as he slid his hands under her, lifting her up, carrying her over to their bed. The soft sheets molded to her body as he set her down under the red canopy. His hands cupped around her breasts, squeezing just a little, and she silently begged for more.

  Electricity pulsed through her as she took in his touch, his taste. More, more...

  Damon’s fingers slipped up her arms towards the straps that rested on her shoulders, when all of a sudden, a loud crash burst into the room.

  Startled, Damon adjusted the straps on Kiki and leapt up from the bed, making the mattress creak.

  Kiki’s heart stopped as all the stress of the day rushed back in a second, chasing away the warmth and electricity in a second. The door stood wide open, splintered in the middle from the force of a kick. Patrick stood inside the frame, pistol in hand, an insane gleam in his eyes.

  Chapter Three

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Damon yelled. He adjusted the collar of his shirt as he knelt down beside the bed, to where they kept their pistols at night. He’d have to remove one, load it, turn off the safety, aim, fire...

  “Get away from her!” Patrick yelled. His gaze moved down to Kiki’s left hand. She tried to pull it back, but Patrick’s face hardened. He’d seen the ring. The insane gleam in his eyes intensified as he stared Damon down with pure murder. “You little bastard.”

  Kiki shot off the bed. She shouldn't have parted with her pistols for the evening, because it was happening. Patrick was truly going over the edge. He slowly aimed his gun at Damon, hand trembling with rage. Damon froze, staring up at the barrel as his hand crept under the bed, grasping for his own weapon.

  Kiki’s heart stopped. Her love. Her best friend. Her future. He’d never make it in time.

  Her uncle was distracted. The room blurred as her legs moved. Patrick’s green eyes flicked towards her, but too late. Kiki’s foot moved before she could think about what she was doing. It contacted the pistol, sending it spinning to the floor. Her wrist moved next, placing a stunning blow against the side of Patrick’s face. Her hand stung as he reached up, stunned, to touch the side of his face.

  “I told you to stay away from me!” Kiki couldn’t control her anger any more. It burst forth like a dam breaking. “I told you, but you fail to listen again!” She closed her hand around Patrick’s pistol and pointed it at his forehead.

  “Kiki—” Damon started.

  His voice fell away as her uncle’s eyes widened. He raised both hands as his lips moved, but nothing came out. He didn’t have a defense.

  “Give me some good reasons why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

  All Patrick could do was gasp and cough as his face turned the color of sunburn.

  Kiki couldn’t control herself. Tremors racked her body as she swung Patrick’s pistol and shot a bullet into the floor. A deafening bang sounded through the air as pieces of carpet flew up into her face. An acrid smell filled the air as smoke rose beside Patrick’s ear.

  Her uncle whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “You feel that?” Kiki asked. “Not much of a man now, are you?” She fired more bullets into the floor around his head, forming a ring. She could finish this now. She could make it so that Patrick would never hurt her or anyone else again. He’d tried to kill her fiance. It was self defense. Everyone would understand. Her arm trembled as she pointed the pistol at his forehead.

  “Kiki!” Damon’s hand came down on her shoulder.

  But what would this do to Patrick’s wife and daughter? Amber was eleven, a child. If she pulled the trigger, she could never face her again.

  An explosion erupted somewhere outside the window.

  Kiki leapt up before she could think, flipping her hair back and whirling around. Outside, an orange ball of fire erupted on the southern end of Frelladon, reflecting off the water of Keilara Bay as one of the fish processing plants burned. Out on the water, three large shapes floated. Ships. The Delainian navy had arrived.

  “Shit!” Patrick flew
out of her mind as she ran for the window. Damon joined her. Delainia had started its offensive from the southern Keilaran coast, not from the north like everyone had expected. The military movement to the north had been nothing but a distraction. That...the Professors’ Ball...everyone distracted—it was a sneak attack.

  Kiki glanced back at Patrick as he stood and brushed himself off, shaking.

  “You got lucky,” she said, heart fluttering. “Don’t you have an army to command? We’re under attack!” If she didn’t know better, she would’ve wondered if Patrick let the Delainians slip in. It would fit such a slimeball like him.

  Patrick shot up and ran, boots thudding on the floor of the hallway.

  “Guns. They might be headed here.” Damon yanked several gun cases out from under the bed as another explosion shook the night outside.

  He was right. Darren Storm would want to take the palace as quickly as possible, and get his hands on the Royal Family. Whatever his reasons for wanting Frelladon, she wouldn’t let the Delainians capture her or Damon.

  Kiki ran over to the bedroom’s gun cabinet and pulled out as many weapons as she could. She threw a shotgun to Damon and slung a second one around her shoulder. Her desert eagles, her holster. She quickly strapped a bunch of shells to her dress and threw Damon the other belt. The shells weighed down her shoulder and nearly slid off, but she didn’t have time to change into her cammo fatigues. The southern coast was only a half mile from the palace walls, unlike the Northern Gates.

  “I can't believe this is happening right now,” Kiki said, loading the shotgun. She closed it with a loud click, like the sound of a bone breaking.

  Damon’s blue eyes met hers, wide. He nodded, and they rushed out of their bedroom and their romantic evening.