Serving side by side roc.., p.1
Serving Side by Side (Rocky Royal Romance Book 3), page 1
Serving Side by Side
Rocky Royal Romance
Fiona West
Published by Tempest and Kite, 2021.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SERVING SIDE BY SIDE
First edition. February 18, 2021.
Copyright © 2021 Fiona West.
Written by Fiona West.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
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Chapter One
SAM
“SIT DOWN, LIEUTENANT.”
Sam Simonson sat down across from his commanding officer. The office was drab but orderly, much like the man who owned it. Colonel Pope folded his hands on the desk.
“First of all, we want to express our appreciation for your actions in the Heartwood Forest incident in Op’Ho’Lonia. You men spent a lot of time and effort looking for that traitor, Prince Lincoln, only to be attacked. You and Lieutenant Saint saved Lieutenant James’s life. You’re being awarded the king’s medal for valor.”
“Thank you, sir.” Simonson knew this already; being friends with King Edward had its advantages. He’d been friends with Edward since officer’s training school, back when he was second in line to the throne, a lowly prince. Saint had been friends with him back then as well, James even longer.
“But since your unit is going back into the reserves rather than active duty, we wanted to see if you’d be interested in a special assignment.”
Why am I being given a choice? Being singled out made him nervous.
“What kind of assignment, sir?”
“The king has requested you for his personal security staff. It seems that now he’s a married man, he’s a little more particular about who’s standing outside his residence at night. But he made it clear that you should feel free to accept another assignment if you prefer.” Sam was surprised that Edward hadn’t said anything; he usually gave him a heads up about such things. Neither of them liked being put on the spot for a decision.
“What would that entail?”
“It’s five twelve-hour shifts, 1700 to 0500 normally. You’d travel with His Majesty when necessary, but mostly, it’s standing outside the residence with the grand duchess’s security, Tezza Macias.”
He remembered Macias. She was hard to forget, dressed head to toe in black, long black ponytail high on her head, toned stature. She was Op’Ho’Lonian; the winter weather had taken a toll on her skin tone, but it was decidedly more olive than the average light-skinned Orangiersian. The difference between the two would hardly be noticeable against his own dark skin, but it was there. The grand duchess, Abbie, had only had one close call with her opponents, and that wasn’t on Macias’s watch.
“Any idea why he asked for me specifically?”
Colonel Pope nodded. “I believe His Majesty is concerned about the grand duchess’s privacy as well as her safety . . . He expressed to me that he’d sleep better knowing there’s someone highly dependable outside their quarters.”
Sam nodded. He considered himself dependable as well, and he was flattered to know that Edward trusted him to keep him and Abbie safe. If that’s what Edward needed, he’d be there for him.
“I’ll do it.”
“I’d also like to encourage you again to accept the promotion you’ve been offered, Lieutenant. There’s no reason why you couldn’t have your own command, especially now that you’ve got a commendation on your chest. It’s the perfect time to think about moving up into your next role. You’re a greater asset than you give yourself credit for.”
“I’ll think about it, sir.”
The colonel’s lips pressed into a line. “That’s what you said last time, Simonson, but your letter of acceptance never crossed my desk.” He gave him a pointed look over his reading glasses, and Sam fought the powerful urge to look away. He knew the colonel meant well, but he didn’t know what to say. He was likely to have the same problem when drawn into conversation with Macias . . . He hoped she wasn’t chatty.
The colonel sighed and handed him his orders. “You start tomorrow night. Report at 1630 for orientation. Dismissed.”
“Thank you, sir.” He left quickly, though there was no reason to. He’d be up all night anyway, trying to get his body on the right schedule. Maybe he could get James to stay up with him; he was always up for late-night shenanigans.
TEZZA
Tezza Macias set her groceries down on the counter of her bungalow and sighed. She’d gotten used to shopping late at night; after working the night shift for months, that didn’t bother her. Nor was she afraid to be out by herself. But the quiet in her house . . . that was something that still got under her skin, even now.
Two years, 105 days. Out of habit, she touched her husband’s framed picture on the mantel as she searched for the remote to turn on the TV for background noise. The picture of her soldier used to live in her bedroom, but she’d relocated it to the mantel when she’d moved to Orangiers seven months ago to take this special assignment. She didn’t know why. Grief was strange in that way; it never explained itself.
Magic gathered and pooled around her bare feet in a way that few could feel. Sighing, she flicked her wrist to turn on the TV with a small pop, and she felt the magic ripple with pleasure, warming her skin as it surged around her. All her usage lately had been purely utilitarian, as it was for most people inside the Veil. It wasn’t that she couldn’t do more, but lately, the drive just wasn’t there.
Where are you, Rocco? Two years, 105 days ago, he’d called her to say he loved her just before he went incognito into a hostile area as a spy. According to the Op’Ho’Lonian Special Forces, they lost contact with him soon after that. She dropped to the floor and did some bicycle crunches, push-ups, stretched her back. It was more productive than crying. She’d fill her small house with the sound of exercise and television; it was better than letting the silence oppress her again.
They were showing more footage of her employer’s wedding; she was amazed at this country’s capacity for celebrity gossip. Then again, with Orangiers so meteorologically dreary this time of year, people did need something to keep them going, she supposed. King Edward, age twenty-two, had married his fiancée Abelia Porchenzii of Brevspor; they had been childhood friends, entering into an arranged marriage after signing a binding contract a decade before. It was a good match in many ways; both were a bit nerdy, bookish, intellectual, prone to banter and matching wits. Yet in Tezza’s opinion, two stronger personalities had rarely been in the same room together, let alone shared a marriage. Abbie was now grand duchess rather than queen, due in part to a chronic illness that plagued her. Tezza didn’t talk about that; silence was a virtue for a reason.
She’d been hired for her magical abilities; abilities that were now deteriorating from lack of use. As a non-tech magic user, she’d put in the work to cultivate a relationship with the magic both here and in Gardenia in order to be able to protect the grand duchess during her engagement. Not everyone could feel the magic’s pull, its vibrating tug on your body, but it had always been second nature to her. And here, inside the Veil, the magic had been tamed—groomed, really—to be more open to sharing itself. Most people took advantage of this by purchasing devices powered by magic: cell phones, fridges, stoves, etc. Even apart from the technology it powered, magic still required patience and the right words, but compared to the Unveiled, controlling it here was a cake walk. Tezza’s abilities had been challenged just a few days before the royal wedding . . . but she’d protected the grand duchess when it counted. She’d take that secret to her grave; the spotlight held no attraction for her. Invisibility suited her best.
SAM
JUST RELAX. IT’S A job. A job you know well. Edward asked you. Sam stuck out his hand to the woman standing outside the palace security office.
“Good evening. We’re assigned together, I believe. Sam Simonson.”
She gave him a firm, businesslike handshake. “Tezza Macias. Nice to meet you.”
“Same.”
They stood in silence. His nervousness began to extricate itself from his chest.
“Ready to go up?”
“Yes.”
They climbed the back staircase to the king’s residence and got a status update from the previous guard: the royals were in for the night. The previous watch had no issues to speak of. They’d be relieved at 0500.
They took up posts on either side of the double doors. Am I supposed to talk to her? I’ve never observed Dean and Waldo working. They probably talk. He glanced over at the woman, but she didn’t acknowledge him. Good. That’s fine, silence is good.
At 2200, he heard a noise that sounded like breaking glass. He immediately got a text.
Bluffton Security Central Dispatch: Outside sentries reported a crash inside the residence. Maintain radio silence.
Sam: Investigating now.
He showed the screen to Macias, then pocketed his phone as he began to open the door to the residence.
“I can go,” she said, putting a staying hand on his arm.
That’s uncomfortably familiar, he thought. There was a scent clinging to her . . . a perfume or shampoo or something . . . Plumeria. Gag. He must have pulled a face, because she interpreted his distaste for doubt.
“I’m quieter,” she asserted.
His eyes narrowed as he stared at the doors to the king’s residence beyond her. “What makes you think that?”
“Watch.” She started into the residence, and then she . . . faded. He didn’t know how else to describe it. It was as if someone put a transparency filter on her. She turned to look at him, as if to say “Well?”
He nodded, then flicked his hand to say “Go for it.” She disappeared around the corner, and a few minutes later she came back with a look on her face he couldn’t interpret.
“Find anything?”
“It was nothing.”
“It was nothing because you found nothing or because you know what the sound was?”
“The royals knocked over a lamp while having intercourse.”
“Ah. I’ll let Dispatch know.” She didn’t seem embarrassed by this in the least. In fact, though he struggled to read other people’s nonverbals, if he had to guess, he’d say she was amused. He was also a little amused, but didn’t let it show. Professionalism and all that. The night shift was bound to bring more intimate moments between them. The royals were lucky Arron James wasn’t in his place or he’d be shouting about the incident to everyone within a five-mile radius.
She resumed her previous stance as he texted Central Dispatch back, giving them the all clear. He also let them know that the royals were awake and would likely be making more noise shortly. But in the back of his mind, the questions wouldn’t leave him alone. He turned back to her.
“Did you speak with them?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know they broke a lamp?”
“I could hear them laughing about it through the bedroom door, making bets on which of us was going to draw the short straw.”
Sam grinned at his shoes; he was glad to hear they were laughing. Before Abbie, Edward didn’t laugh enough. “Who guessed correctly?”
“She did. He thought you’d be more protective, more likely to burst through the door.”
“A fair assessment.” He wasn’t embarrassed either. His friends had given him a hard time often enough about his naivety that it was no surprise Edward thought it would be him.
“Perhaps in part, but I’m very protective as well. She’s a good person.”
“They both are.”
“Agreed.” Well, at least his new coworker had an accurate assessment of their charges.
They settled back into the silence, broken a few minutes later by two muffled, wordless cries from the residence, first hers, then his. Since Macias didn’t react and he received no more text messages, he decided to follow Tezza’s lead on this one. They didn’t speak again until 0500 when their shift was over.
“Headed home?” He didn’t know why he asked her that. It was probably intrusive.
“No.” She shook her head, dark ponytail swinging. “I’m meeting my sister.”
“Oh. Well, enjoy your time with her.”
“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
Edward was exiting the residence just as he started to walk away. “Hey, fancy a run?”
Sam shrugged. “Why not?”
“That’s the spirit.”
“How are you so chipper so early in the morning?” Sam asked. He could keep to himself what he knew about Edward getting laid last night.
The young king lifted his chin. “I have an exceptional constitution, mate, for I am an exceptional person.”
Sam grinned. “Bollocks.”
“Cuts me right to the heart, that does. How was your first night of work?”
“Fine.”
Edward glanced at him. “Fine? Just . . . fine?”
Sam nodded.
“How’s Macias to work with?”
“She seems very competent. Last night, I watched her fairly fade away when she went to check on . . . um . . .” He realized what he was saying too late and felt his face heat. Though they were both black, Sam envied Edward’s darker complexion. He was sure Edward could tell he was blushing, given that he was grinning from ear to ear.
“Drat it all, Abbie was right. Don’t tell her, all right?”
“Why, what’d you wager?”
“If she was right about who checked, there’s a new horror movie she’s going to make me watch. What Lies Underfoot, or something. She says my jumping and cringing is the best part.” He gave an exaggerated shudder and Sam smiled at his shoes.
“Just let me change and I’ll meet you outside.”
“Sounds good.”
Though they didn’t usually talk much on their runs, Edward’s confusion over his new bride’s quirks seemed to give him plenty to discuss.
“She can’t retire without doing the dishes,” panted Edward. “Even if she’s exhausted, falling-down tired. She’ll stand there and wash them all up. You’d never know she’d been raised royal.”
“I find that very practical,” said Sam, wiping his brow with his sleeve. “The scent of dirty dishes alone can ruin my morning.”
“You’re a bit more sensitive than most in that, mate.”
“True.” That hadn’t stopped his mother from expecting him to wash them. It wasn’t like she had time, working with his father, and she believed making him do things that bothered him would be “good exposure therapy.” She wasn’t wrong, but that hadn’t made it any less uncomfortable. Sam didn’t usually mind that his family and friends were attuned to his sensory issues; for his last birthday, Edward had given him noise-cancelling headphones, which were now part of his essential equipment. They understood how overstimulating it felt to look someone in the eye . . . at least, they understood in theory.
“What’s the best part of being married?” Edward grinned and opened his mouth to answer when Sam cut him off. “Besides finally getting a leg over.”
He feigned offense. “Is that any way to talk about my delicate grand duchess?”
Sam snorted. “I’ve heard her say worse.”
“So have I. Just this morning, in fact, she rolled over and asked me to—”
Sam held up a hand. “Stop. It’s bad enough I have to hear it through the door.”
Edward turned them back toward Bluffton, on the path along the sea cliffs. “In all seriousness, the best part is living with my best friend. She knows it all; the good and the bad. She’s always there for me. I love that.”
Sam nodded. He would, too. But at this point in his life, it seemed about as possible as crossing the Orangiersian Ocean in a bathtub.
Chapter Two
TEZZA
1930 HOURS. THREE DAYS since Simonson had joined her assignment. She couldn’t quite figure him out. He wasn’t overly talkative on duty, which she appreciated, but it was more than just the quiet. He hadn’t flirted with her. She wasn’t vain, but she knew she was prettier than average; and she seemed to attract more attention here, with her dark Op’Ho’Lonian hair and eyes. Yet he had made no attempt to size her up, from what she could tell. It was . . . surprising. Surprising, but not unwelcome, considering they both had a job to do that required total focus. Her own focus had drifted a bit more often since he’d started . . . Physically, he was just her type. Not ripped, just strong. He filled out the uniform nicely . . . It wasn’t a crime to notice. She was married, not dead.
They hadn’t been on duty long when Prince Simon approached the residence with his security, Kevin, trailing at a distance. It was unusual to see the nine-year-old apart from his mother or his nanny. It put her on high alert, even if it shouldn’t. She was always more aware of Simon; not only did he stand out because he had trisomy 21, a genetic disorder that affected his development, but the magic loved him. She could barely get its attention when he was around.
