She rendered not a word of complaint.
Because the foam on those waves sparkled with so much hope. And she was ready to drown.
Maybe…
Just maybe…
She told herself not to care about finishing that. She reminded herself that hope had betrayed her before. That she was never going to be the progressive princess for her people that she had dreamed of, and trying to resolve that disappointment ended up in witnessing her father’s murder from two feet away.
No.
Not her father.
Louis LaBarre had not been a fraction of the father that Paipanne had always been—and still was being, up to this very moment. Guiding her with his conviction. Brightening her with his humor. Comforting her with his care.
Loving her unconditionally, despite that she possessed not a drop of his DNA.
Loving her mother with just as much devotion.
Showing her that if two people were truly dedicated to the challenge, life was not a daunting mountain. It was a triumph waiting to be scaled. Even through the dark parts. Even through the uncertainties. Even when hope itself was determined to kick them down.
But right now, after wiping her tears and thanking Paipanne with a fervent kiss on the cheek, she tucked hope as close as she could. She clung to every bright point of its star, guiding her steps down every flight of stairs to the commissary—and her heart back to the side of the man she was determined not to give up on.
Chapter Ten
“I am grateful for the gift of your time, Mr. Brickham. Especially in light of these…odd…circumstances.”
Evrest Cimarron’s stance, as diplomatic as his statement, was silhouetted by the gold sunbeams reflecting off the sea beyond Jayd’s balcony. Brick had no actual idea of what time it was, but it’d been at least a couple of hours since Twylah took away his lunch tray and urged him to fill the afternoon by getting some rest.
Factoring in the half hour he’d waited for the hives to abate from hearing “rest” for the hundredth time in three days—or less sarcastically speaking, to make sure Twylah had truly left him alone for a while—plus everything that had happened since he got here, it had to be nearing late afternoon.
Which didn’t give anyone a lot of time before nightfall.
When Carris and his shiny wonder force would probably get here.
Goddammit, he hoped the monarch made this quick. But also that the guy opted for the I-am-king-hear-me-roar mode for this instead of the what-exactly-are-you-doing-with-my-sister approach. Brick had much more experience with the former. As in having zilch knowledge of the latter. Subbies rarely showed up at the club with their siblings along for interview duty.
“Not a problem, though I think I still have you beat in the gratitude arena,” he responded. “Without the care of your medical team, I’d likely be a prime snack for the rainforest beasts by now.”
He deliberately didn’t mention the scalding hot waters of the foreign relations bath in which Arcadia was currently swimming. Good chance that recognition was occupying every other thought in the man’s head.
Brick only wished he wasn’t stressing about what occupied the other thoughts.
“I am glad they put you on the mend so quickly,” the man answered. “You are feeling better, I trust? To have found your way this far across the palais?”
A chuckle rumbled out of him. It felt as fake as it sounded. Goddammit, he was actually that nervous—and a dozen kicks into berating himself for the stupidity. Which was also wasted energy.
Brakes. Reverse gear. Now, motherfucker.
Spinning up some panic wasn’t an option right now. Good chance the Arcadians knew nothing about his not-so-elegant secret, since there was a good chance their medical systems couldn’t talk to any databases back home.
That was just dandy by him.
He’d be gone soon enough, and nobody here had to be the wiser. But that also meant keeping his shit together for the moment. Taking advantage of the benefit it presented: to show Evrest he’d been worth the risk. To prove to the man that he hadn’t gambled the integrity of his country on a senseless murderer.
Trouble was, he’d imagined this encounter differently. To exponential sums of the word.
In his mental planning sessions, he and Evrest were somewhere like a palais office or his room in the infirmary, not a few steps from where he’d dominated the man’s sister to mind-bending degrees. The blue dye streaks along his skull and neck were never part of the equation. Nor were the fingernail scratches now mingled with them. Certainly not the countless wrinkles in his clothes, or the distinctive scent with which they were still tinged. That blend of sea spray and spice unique to one person alone. The smell that surely Evrest detected too.
“I have it on good authority that the forest beasts are vegetarian. On the other hand, I cannot speak for certain palais pixies.”
Oh, yeah. The king had picked up on things. Unnervingly so.
“Though now I am wondering…do said pixies nibble all they want, or only bite with permission?”
And what the fuck came after unnerving?
He was damn sure it was aggravating. Maybe even infuriating. Yeah, probably that.
King or no king, he told the guy so with a pronounced flare of his nostrils. He was damn sure his gaze got fired up to match. “That’s a chunk of mighty bold assumption. Respectfully submitted, Your Majesty.”
“Respectfully accepted, Mr. Brickham.” A decisive whomp hit the air, courtesy of Evrest’s slamming palms. “But the best assumptions are based on plausible accuracy. And that precision is grounded in solid research.”
“Research.” He echoed it to buy himself a few valuable seconds. A lot could be observed in that amount of time. In this case, the scrutiny earned him nothing but a tall island monarch, standing with purposeful neutrality. Too neutral. Tranquility like that reminded him of green skies before a hurricane. Good surprises weren’t in the forecast. “So just what have those investigations revealed?”
He finished with a defined hike of a brow. It hardly fazed the king.
“You would have me detail it out?” Evrest volleyed. “Or shall we save valuable time by diving to the point?”
No more sardonic smirk. But damn it, Brick couldn’t rein back his gruff chuckle. “Under any other circumstances, Your Majesty, I’d be offering to buy you a few beers after this shitstorm is over.”
“At the bar in your Bastille club?”
So much for anticipating the hurricane. But at the same time, so much for thinking that gale was going to be terrible.
“Well, we have a few thrones in the place for you to pick from,” he supplied past quirking lips. “If that’s how you like to play.”
“I am not the subject of this discussion.” The man bit it out between seething looks. “And in many ways, nor are you.”
“Couldn’t agree with you more.” He also couldn’t be more sincere about it. “And while I know my opinion still isn’t being solicited here…” He set his jaw to meet the man’s stare, gleam for determined gleam. “None of this is simple lip service. I mean it. Your sister is an incredible human being. I’m lucky for the chance to have known—”
He was severed short by the similar slash of the king’s hand. “’Twould not be a wise choice for us to discuss how you have known my sister, Mr. Brickham.”