Page 80 of Bared

She made a dismissive hiss through her teeth. “Not right?” she spewed. “Just because he is not groveling before me or obeying royal protocols?”

He arched his brows. “Then that would land me in the same basket, wouldn’t it?”

“Indeed it would.”

He disregarded her coy smirk, focusing on the parts of his psyche that were giving him some damn weird vibes. Uncomfortable wasn’t the right word. Even suspicious wasn’t the right descriptor anymore. He’d leapfrogged to the next level—into outright unnerved.

“All right, this is feeling bad, Pixie.” He contradicted himself by flashing an all’s-cool grin toward LaBarre, just in case the man was more lucid than he assumed. He continued through his painfully gritted teeth. “You know it too. Don’t you?”

The question almost wasn’t worth tagging on. He already saw his answer, blatant across the gorgeous sprite’s face. There was only so much of the man’s behavior she’d be able to depreciate with excuses like nerves, anxiety, and the pressures of his day. That margin was thinning by the second.

“It is fine,” she finally said, though her fingertips hadn’t stopped pounding her thighs and her teeth hadn’t ceased worrying her lips. “He is fine.”

“Right,” Brick mumbled. “Sure he is.”

She folded her arms. “Do not sound so thrilled about that for my sake.”

Before he could form a comeback about how he’d be more thrilled if they found an inconspicuous table or got out of here completely, LaBarre chose to zero in on his daughter once more.

“So…you are my daughter. And you are a princess.”

“So she’s already informed you, Monsieur.”

He was terse but diplomatic, though probably more of one than the other. Jayd’s fresh whack to his chest confirmed as much.

“I apologize, Paipanne,” she stated. “Brickham has had a long day and night.”

“Ah, yes.” Again, LaBarre’s reply was like lip gloss. Pretty for two seconds before it dissolved into a shiny mess. “I understand that part. Of course I do. Long days. Scary nights.” His whole form shook with a violent tremor. “Scary, scary nights.”

“Oh, no.” Jayd swept back over to the man, not stopping until she had him in another tight embrace. “Paipanne. Is everything all right? By the stars, please do not cry.” She swung her head around. “Brickham?”

The only answer he could muster was a half-assed shrug. He wanted it to be more, but he was confusion’s bitch right now. She’d refused to heed his warning, but three seconds of LaBarre’s maudlin turn had her boarding the something’s-not-right train? But this wasn’t a time for pouting egos, especially his. At least she was on the tracks with him now. He could work with that if this went sideways and he had to.

Fuck, how he hoped he didn’t have to.

Jayd went on with her comforting chantings for her father, but it seemed like she was consoling the inconsolable. Yet just when Brick thought she’d abandon the quest for good, the man moved back by a small step. He gripped her shoulders with shuddering need and impaled her searching gaze with his red-rimmed one.

“You are a princess,” he finally said. “A kindhearted one. I can already tell.”

For the first time since they’d walked in, Jayd fidgeted with discernible discomfort. “I have done my best to be just a good person, Father. My title has nothing to do with my character.”

“But it has everything to do with your gold…yes?”

Well, shit.

Brickham refrained—barely—from spitting it out loud. From the second he’d confessed his suspicions to Jayd, he’d started a mental list of subjects that could qualify for this-is-bad status. The Cimarrons and their royal wealth were up there in the rankings. But his preparation didn’t diminish a speck of his agony at watching Jayd answer her own wake-up call about it.

“What does my gold have to do with anything, Monsieur?”

Monsieur this time. Not Paipanne. But again, not a victory for Brick. Just a profound wash of sadness, watching LaBarre slip from the pedestal she’d so carefully constructed. But that was the thing about shrines. They were usually occupied by statues, not humans, for a reason.

“My beautiful, miraculous daughter.”

As LaBarre reached for Jayd’s hands again, the man looked clear, connected, and present. Well, imagine that. Brick could only grunt out a retort since he had imagined. His visions were based in a solid chunk of reality. He’d seen this behavior over and over again. Once upon a time, he’d damn near become this behavior.

“Paipanne?” Crap. She was back to that already. “What is it? What do you need?”

The man had the decency to turn red, but not the dignity to stop his new plea. “I…have an injury, princess. My leg…I fell off a scaffold, you see…and it gives me so much pain. My medications are expensive. But they said you might be able to help so I can afford some more. They said—”