“That’s the end of it.” Kris spread his knees, draping an arm along the back cushions of the sofa, widening his sprawl to counter his tension. “Frankie mentioned she’ll assign you both with a bodyguard of your very own for when you’re in public.” He wouldn’t tell his brothers of the possible link between Tommy and Jonah’s attack and the deaths of their family. They both had enough to handle right now, and as cowardly as it was, he would avoid admitting his guilt in Tommy’s attack for as long as possible. “As a precaution.”
“Right.” Mark was frowning. “You’re okay, though?”
Kris slid his bruised hand behind his head. “Fine.”
“Good.” His brother gave a nod. “I spoke to Mom and Dad yesterday on a videocall and introduced them to Ava. It was awkward. We got stuck on small talk. I think we spoke about the Sage Haven bakery for about twenty minutes. None of us seemed to know how to get away from it. And the peanut butter bars are still there . . . and the bagel melts . . . oh, and Mark, you’ll be happy to know they’re still baking cinnamon scrolls fresh every morning—Ava you must come and try the cinnamon scrolls . . .” He trailed off with a grimace.
“But she must Mark,” Kris said with a grin. “I sent Mom some photos from your engagement party. Apparently that made her cry.”
Mark sighed. “Dad’s not well enough to fly over for the wedding, and Mom doesn’t want to leave him. They’re both upset about it. Ava and I will visit them afterward.”
“They’ll love that.”
“In other news,” Mark said. “Ava held the press conference this morning.”
Kris nodded. It was Ava’s attempt to control the story surrounding her life with Mark and Darius. Protecting her son from the media spotlight and the often damaging curiosity of the public had always been her priority—and she’d sacrificed her best chance of that in order to be with Mark. All she could hope for now was that Kiraly would find her and Darius less interesting than its cowboy royals.
Tommy leaned forward, forearms on the desk. “How did she go?”
Mark raised a shoulder, looking a little helpless. “She’s stressed and upset. It was a public statement, so the journalists weren’t given the opportunity to hound her with questions, but they were so stunned by her reappearance that she couldn’t get a read on them. She’s worried about the story morphing in the media and the impact it’ll have on Darius.”
‘The story’ she’d provided was a modified version of actual events. The world would believe that after falling in love with King Markus some months ago, Ava had confessed her illegitimate son to him, whom the royal family of Kelehar had helped her to keep safe and secret. Markus then helped her slip away to visit him and she’d brought her boy back to Kiraly where the king was continuing to court her. The public would only learn of their marriage once wedding photos were released to the press.
Still a juicy story, but nothing compared to how it had really unfolded.
“I hope she doesn’t think she’s made a mistake.” Mark rested his head against the back of his chair and pressed his eyes shut. “She was finally living undetected, like she’d always wanted. I’ve ruined that.”
“Seriously?” Kris hurled another cookie at him. Mark jolted, eyes springing open as it hit him in the chest. “She came back for you, man. She climbed a mountain just to see you again. You didn’t drag her here.”
“It’s just—” Mark hesitated, eyeing Kris. “This whole plan feels loose.”
“So was calling in three cowboys to replace a royal family,” Kris said, “but it’s kind of working.”
“Kind of,” Tommy said, angling his head. “How’s Darius settling in?”
Mark’s smile was genuine. That was the right question to ask. “He’s got a lot of his mother in him. Confident. Clever. A sweet kid, but he’s got a sassy little mouth when he’s comfortable.”
Kris chuckled, looking forward to when the boy was comfortable around him. Three-year-old sass would be hysterical.
“He asked about my boots and said he wanted to do gardening like a real cowboy,” Mark said, still smiling. “I’ve ordered a pair in his size.”
There. That look of soft joy on his brother’s face was exactly why Kris was taking over as king.
Then he pulled a face and said, “Gardening?”
“It’s something he does with Ava. One step at a time. The horses will follow.” Then his brows shot up. “Oh. And my bachelor party. I thought we could clear out a venue, maybe the Bearded Bunting, and just eat, drink and play cards. You guys, Adam, Philip—”
“Philip?” Kris interrupted.
“And my guards,” Mark finished, ignoring him. “Small and simple.”
“Sounds good.” Tommy gave a nod, his hands busy tearing strips off the top sheet of a notepad on the desk. His face looked pale and tacky, and his hands leapt at the sudden knock on the door.
“Come in,” Mark called.
Kris straightened up his sprawl when Frankie strode into the room. The memory of her taste was lush in his mouth, and for a moment, he was back on The Scepter—night wrapping a shadowed screen around them as he pressed his face against her neck and used his tongue to raze their past to the ground. He swallowed, taut with wanting as he watched her. She held a thin folder and didn’t seem remotely surprised to find all three brothers in the room.
“Your Majesty.” She bowed to Mark, then inclined her head to Tommy. “Your Highness.” Lastly, she sent a sideways watch yourself look at Kris, said, “Your Highness,” and inclined her head again.
“I told them about last night,” he said, thrilled when her cheeks stained pink. The kiss was hot on her mind too. “And the bodyguards.”
“There goes my prepared speech.” She lowered the folder to her side. “It appears to be an isolated incident, but it pays to be safe.”
“You’re bruised.” Tommy’s attention was steady on her face.
Concern pushed Kris to his feet. “Where?”
Sighing, she faced him properly, revealing the tinge of purple on her cheek not quite concealed by her makeup. She raised a shoulder. “He must have got me.”
“You must have felt it,” he countered.
“Adrenaline is a great pain blocker.”
Kris opened his mouth to argue, but Mark cut him off with a swift, “Frankie.”
Standing, his brother drew something from his pocket. A square of pearlescent card, with a silver ribbon woven along one edge. “Ava asked me to give this to you.”
“That’s pretty.” She took it as if it might try to steal her fingerprints and frowned as she read it. “I still don’t get why she wants me at her bridal shower.”
“You’re one of her heroes. It would mean a lot if you were there.”
Frankie scoffed, glancing out the window, and it occurred to Kris that Frankie didn’t only deny his attempts to draw her close, but that of anyone she classed as her superior. “I’m not a hero,” she muttered.
“You’re hers,” Mark said. “You and Zara.”