“Highness?” she flung. “You just watched and heard what I did, yes? You know that means I am no longer Your Highness, right?” She circled her stare around. “That I should no longer even be living here—”
Evrest swooped up a hand. “A matter we are going to shelve for later, fembla. You are still my little sister, even if by half. And at the moment, I claim dominion over the half that agrees to obey me.”
Brick should’ve anticipated what her retort of a pout would do to everything inside him. The look was doubly devastating because she only meant it by half. In the thorough thrust of her beguiling lips, she was fighting Evrest tooth and nail. But in the depths of her gorgeous aquas, she was still adoring him. No. Beyond that. There was a bond there, between the princess and her king, that went beyond their mutual affection and trust. A union that Brick would never know but always be fascinated by.
“All right, all right,” Jayd groused. “I shall follow your lead, Majesty.”
Evrest’s exhalation was a different sound, though relatable in more ways. Brick wasn’t going to crow about the unique thrill of bending the Cimarron princess, having already done it in vastly separate circumstances, but he indulged a silent fist bump with the guy.
“Merderim mahaleur, sister,” the man offered with gruff sincerity.
“You are welcome, brother.” She relaxed her stance, rocking back on one foot. “I really do trust you, after all.”
Evrest pulled her into a gentle hug. “For which I am grateful.”
She broke their embrace first, seeming impatient. She worked the balls of her feet now, softly bouncing up and down. “So, I am at your service.” She turned, including Samsyn and Shiraz in her sweet enthusiasm. “Where can I help the most? I imagine there will be a central command set up as soon as possible. Does it make sense to have it downstairs near the commissary, where we set up storm shelters and community events? But if I can lend better insight out on patrol with Syn or Jagger—”
“No.”
Their objection, in the same triplicate of violent baritones, was no surprise to Brick. Regrettably, it was to Jayd, who didn’t see the urgent protectiveness that had manifested as clueless testosterone.
“No…what?” she asked, blinking as if they were part of an optical illusion that she’d unravel any second. “You do not want me out in the field? That is fine. Emme and I shall coordinate support for the command center with Camellia and Lucy. I assume you will be needing Brooke with one of your units, Syn? Though perhaps Cam would feel safer watching the child care center, close to Leo and the other childr—”
“Fembla.” Samsyn, who’d apparently drawn the short straw on talking to his sister this time, grabbed Jayd’s hands in his. “Heed the Creator’s wisdom and listen to us this time.”
She crunched a full frown. “I am. And I understand if you do not want me outside—”
“Of this suite.”
So much for the short straw. Clearly, Samsyn had been picked this duty because of his talent for getting to a point like an Olympic high diver. Minimal splash. Nonexistent tact.
Jayd tilted her head so fast, she was almost kittenish. With the splayed claws to match. “Excuse. Me?”
“Desonnum, sister. But—”
“The hell you are sorry,” she snapped. “And the hell you are going to start trilling about how it is for my own good—”
Samsyn dropped his grip and folded his arms. “I do not have time to trill right now, little one. There will be no argument. This is for your vital protection.”
“Ohhh, no.” She balled her fists, turning the kitten into a lioness. “Dare you not, brother. Dare you not with your stupid nobility about this!”
“Damn it, Jayd.” It was Shiraz’s first fierce burst of this encounter, and he came out with figurative guns blazing. “Nobility has nothing to do with this.”
Jayd straightened and nodded. “And finally someone with the testicles to say it.”
“That does not make Syn wrong.” The guy nodded with firm finality. If Lisbeth Salander had been a dude, Brick imagined he’d look and act like ’Raz Cimarron. He’d even bet his left nut that the dark and restrained prince was hiding some illicit tattoos and piercings. “As the man himself has stated, Trystan is launching this campaign with several goals in mind. But let us be obvious, if not completely clear. Even if every other box on his list was soundly filled in, the bonsun would still burn this place down to get to you.”
Jayd visibly paled—as she should have. Brick had to concede to the instability of his own composure. As long as he was on this island, nobody was getting to Jayd unless he knew about it, present company excepted. Maybe not even then. They could make up new rules after he left—
Oh, hell no.
Now wasn’t the time to tromp that bed of nails, especially as Jayd’s color returned to normal, mere seconds before her obvious preparation for laying into her siblings again.
“So let me get this straight.” She slammed hands on her hips and pivoted with purpose. Here came the deliberate pace that would one day strike mortal fear into her offspring. “Trystan Carris will be inward bound within the hour, determined to take over the palais and possibly the throne itself, with the help of his troops as well as a well-trained special ops team. We, on the other hand, are on the defensive and low on capable operatives—which means every able-bodied Arcadian is needed for this effort. Except, it seems, me.”
When she stopped, an arched stained-glass window framed her small posture. As her brothers looked on with rigid scowls, Brick almost succumbed to a smile. Since the stained glass depicted the entwined dove and hawk of their family’s crest, he was damn near sure she’d purposely stopped in that spot.
“Instead, it seems I am to be stowed away in an ivory tower, embroidering kerchiefs for our soldiers to dab up their own blood from the battles. Unless I am not able-bodied for even that?”
Once more, the brothers were eerie matches to their torture machines. Samsyn growled like a foaming dog. Shiraz rolled his eyes like he’d gulped too much water. Evrest was again the frowning statesman, ramming his hands at his back with taut tension.
“Fembla,” the king murmured. “Do you think, after all we have seen you accomplish, we would insinuate that?”
“No.” Jayd dropped her head between her slumping shoulders. “So that means you are insinuating the other choice. That I am no longer Arcadian.”
“Fuck,” Samsyn rumbled.
“Are you serious?” Shiraz leveled.
“And are you questioning why?” Brick interceded. His query was equally sincere. As much as he already respected these guys, it seemed they needed to hear a few things. Truths that their little sister was all but screaming at them.
“I do not recall your opinion being solicited,” Shiraz bit out.
“Well, perhaps it should’ve been,” Brick countered. “Forest through the trees here, guys?”
“Says the bonsun who helped our sister paint the forest blue?” Samsyn erupted. “With some fucking sketchy brushes?”
Brick smirked. “Sorry, honey. Euphemisms won’t get you anywhere.”
“But they might land your swiss cheese ass in the middle of the Misere Swamp!”