“Pixie?” Samsyn spat at the same time.
“Loosen your corsets,” Evrest decreed. “Or would you rather stand here and bicker instead of making the most of the gift Carris laid in our laps?”
Once more, Brick nodded in deference to the man. There was a wise mind beneath the highest crown of this kingdom. Trystan’s need to boast about his campaign was a secret weapon for them all, and pointless squabbling wasn’t the key to optimizing it.
Thankfully, the other brothers didn’t take too long to realize that. But as they fell in line behind Jayd, preparing to leave the suite, Evrest hooked a hand around Brick’s bicep.
“Mr. Brickham? A moment of your time?”
“Ermmm…sure.”
He uttered it out of confusion more than trepidation, but Jayd whipped around a stare that clearly flipped the fraction around. Still, he sent her another reassuring smirk. Just as her phone buzzed in the charger on her desk. “Forward into the fray, Highness,” he said. “I’ll be hobbling by your side in no time.”
A smile grabbed the outer corners of her lips before lighting up his whole chest. “Promise?” she volleyed.
“I promise.”
“You shall be all right, then?”
She dotted that one with a warning glare toward Evrest. He dipped an auspicious stare in return.
“Now I promise,” he assured.
Jayd pressed her lips together. Her glower hardened. Clearly, his little pixie didn’t entirely believe her brother.
Brick wasn’t sure he could blame her.
Chapter Nine
She was not sure which stress jabbed harder at her belly. Not knowing what Ev had in mind to chat with Brick about, or not knowing exactly what Maimanne had to talk over with her.
Oh, yes. As in right now. To the tune of being summoned to her mother’s suite with three consecutive text messages on her phone.
At least she had a decent excuse to flop against a wall and groan with as much petulance as she liked. While it felt as wonderful as getting to belch after being in a corset too long, she already realized her mistake in the indulgence.
She hadn’t waited until Syn and ’Raz stomped fully away.
Sure enough, both of them stopped so fast that their boots chirped against the polished hallway tiles. Samsyn, with his wider strides, got to her side first.
“Bad or worse?” he murmured right away. It was a well-loved part of their family shorthand, used for everything from taking a bad tumble to dealing with a particularly pesky journalist—or fifty. It stood in for idiotic generalities instead getting directly to the subject at hand.
And in this case, it was perfect.
Jayd, all too happy to cut to the chase, held up her phone with the text messages screen on bright. At once, Syn proved why a brotherly growl was sometimes better than a belch outside the throne room.
“Bloody fuck toast,” he rumbled.
“Hmm. Good one,” Jayd muttered. “You would have even been thanked for it, but I have made up my mind to be rankled with you until Bayrami.”
Shiraz, having caught up to Syn, scowled. “What, so you can kill him then? And ruin my favorite holiday of the year?”
Syn chuckled. “But then you would all have to honor me too.”
’Raz rolled his eyes. “As I said, do not ruin it.”
Samsyn let the comment roll by. With his attention reengaged by the screen Jayd had yet to switch off, he again channeled his inner hound dog.
“What do you think dearest Maimanne wants?”
A trilling laugh escaped. “Perhaps to explain why she kept such a massive secret from me?”
“And to apologize for it?” Requiemme looked happy for the chance to poke that in.
Jayd was certain she joined her siblings in an obvious eye roll of response.
“You are referring to Xaria Cimarron, yes? The queen mother of this island, who thinks the Creator owes her for so much as a hangnail?”
“Hmm. Good one.” Samsyn threw over a fast wink. “I would thank you for it, but seeing as how you volunteered to be my murderer…”
Shiraz wheeled around and yanked her into a tight, sheltering hug. “Whatever it is, just know we have your back, yes?”
“Agreed.” Syn’s rumble was the reassuring lining on his hold too, sealing her in from behind. “Whatever asshole antics the rest of the world deals you, nothing changes this, fembla. Nothing changes us.”
It was another family-close expression, though it was buried deeper in the past than his earlier one. Back to a simpler time, in special places. During those precious summers in which she and her brothers were just kids with stick swords and treehouse castles. When the boys proudly wore the flower crowns she had made for them while they sat in a “ceremonial circle” and made that vow to each other over an “official” cup of pomegranate juice.
Nothing changes us.
Damn it. Oh, damn it!
She pushed out the words aloud, past the salty drops that had done the same to her eyes. “Mushy soldask,” she rasped, trying to elbow Samsyn. “I have not thought of that in so long.”
’Raz’s laugh was a gruff burst into her hair. “Me neither.”
Syn’s grunt was low but good-natured vibration in their huddle. “And I have never forgotten it.”
“All right, then,” she declared, reluctantly pushing free from the sibling sandwich. “Enough goofing off. Get on with it, you giant dorks. Go save the kingdom.”
“You mean giant badass dorks.” Syn swept up a hand, fingers poised in horns like a rock star. “Get on with it yourself, shrimp dip. Go appease the queen.”
“Can I not just help save the kingdom instead?”
Syn’s grin softened, giving away his commiseration for her agony. He leaned back over to peck the top of her head. “Everybody helps in their own way, little one.”
She snorted. “Is this the part where I tell you to fuck off?”
Shiraz chuckled. “Oh, my. The interesting lessons someone learned in Paris.”
Jayd was robbed of her comeback by another vibration of her phone. She groaned but glanced at the screen anyway, hoping it was a check-in from Brickham. Never mind that they had been apart for all of five minutes, or that he had come to her suite with nothing but the clothes on his back and the cane in his hand. In the last seven days, she had seen him accomplish things more impossible than manifesting a phone from thin air.
Damn it. The text was not his.
But nor was it another summons from Maimanne.
Little jewel, are you almost here?
Her breath hitched, but it stopped her not from doubling her pace. Little jewel. Only one person had claim to that nickname for her. The outside world knew him as Ardent Cimarron. But to her, he was…
“Paipanne?”
It rushed out while she crossed the transom between her mother’s formal receiving room and the more casual tearoom beyond. Once there, she swiveled in place with a confused frown. She stopped once Requiemme walked in, also peering around with curiosity.
“Where are they?”
Emme shook her head and swept out her hands, palms up. “Hrmmm…they?”
Jayd jerked a fast nod. “I think Paipanne is with her.”
“But where? Your mother always greets you in here.” She gingerly laid her fingertips on the gold teapot that took center stage on the ornate mahogany sideboard. “Nor, it seems, is she planning to. It’s cold.”