Page 5 of Bound

Brooke rolled her eyes. Jayd barely held back from grabbing for both her brother’s orbs and tossing them to the birds on the tarmac. But what would that accomplish? It was the imbezak’s pompous tongue that fed her fury so steadily.

“Have you listened to anything we have just relayed to you?” she spewed. “Jagger, Ozias, and myself? Brickham risked his life for mine! And not just that one time on the tarmac at Bourget. The information in the media is not even half the story. Damn it, Syn! You of all people should know—”

“And he does.” Brooke again, inserting a tone of reason when it was most needed. “And for what it’s worth, I do too. I really believe you, Jayd. About all of it.”

“You do?” It was pathetic and desperate, but she cared not. She needed the balm on her severely bruised spirit.

“Senator’s daughter, remember?” her sister-in-law said. “Ratings points, story spins, and viral posts were like milk on our morning cereal. The media can be your best friend or your worst enemy. And as long as we’re on that subject”—she swung her gaze toward Oz and Jag—“do you guys have any clue about where Carris could be slinking now?”

While the guys shook their heads with remorse that could not be feigned, Samsyn decided to try some of his humanity on for size. “Well, the man is a mongrel, and those filthy beasts eventually get their due,” he reassured to everyone. “I have called in some extra favors across Paris, hoping to rouse the proper hounds for the job. They all relocated to the city for reasons that would not have me entrusting them with a search for my sister, but this is different.”

Brooke frowned. “How so?”

“This time, I do not care if they kill the target.” His rough grunt was hardly necessary for punctuation. Her brother was serious and everyone knew it. He growled harder before going on. “What I am more concerned about is containment. Those gutter dogs love their gossip more than all the palais hens combined. But I have also offered ample compensation to those who can supply us with the right whispers about Carris’s escapades. Let us be like the rubber tree plant and have high hopes that it buys some discretion, as well.”

Thankfully, Brooke chuckled on behalf of them all. “Yo mister…you mean an ant, right?”

“Ants?” Samsyn jolted as if she told him a velociraptor had landed behind him. “What? Where? Are they the big red fuckers? Damn it, Brooke. Where?”

As Brooke gave her husband a calming hug and a full explanation of his misquoted song, Jayd yearned to indulge the same laughs as everyone else. Instead, her belly twisted tighter and her head ached worse. She hated this. Hated how her damning secret was reducing her big, bold brother into a stress ball who freaked about ants.

It was not fair. Nor acceptable.

Conclusions that lent new boldness to her tongue.

“All right. What if we took discretion out of the picture? I mean it,” she insisted, knocking back at Syn’s incredulous glower. “What if we just stopped all this silly secrecy and beat the Pura at their own game? Right now?”

Amazing, how her brother could narrow his stare but pack a harder wallop with it. “By doing exactly what?”

“You know what,” she countered. “By breaking the news ourselves.”

His expression got darker. Struck back harder. “Are you fucking fougin?”

“Seriously?” Brooke’s new stance was just as stubborn. “She might be the only one who isn’t. Just lock down the frown, Cimarron, and listen to her for a second. Is it that crazy to think about taking back the control on this from the Pura without flying bullets? I mean, do you think those assholes aren’t already expecting you to storm their bunkers? So that means they’ve already stowed the originals of their documents in other places. So guess where that lands everyone after you’re all done taking target practice at each other?”

“Sounds like square one to me.” Ozias offered the sanction, though he embellished it with a deferential shrug. “Not that I don’t enjoy a good brass-up from time to time. But in this case, seems the dirty laundry on open hangers is better than leaving it in the closet to grow mold.”

Syn scrubbed a hand down his face. “And if that dirt strips my sister of her title? What about her standing in the palais? In the hearts of the whole kingdom?”

Jagger weighed in with his own rough grunt. “And I thought the Palais Players were the only melodramatic ones.” His sanguine smirk took over fast enough. “With all due respect, Highness, Jayd’s place in her people’s heart is secure.”

“And you know this fact?” Samsyn challenged. “Had time to do a casual poll while you were out and about in Paris these last few days?”

“I simply know that your citizens are not fools. None of this was Jayd’s direct fault, and surely the Arcadian people would understand that. They would listen if you explain things and are transparent about the story. Creator’s toes, she has been as blindsided by this as you, Ev, and ’Raz. As for her rightful place in the palais, or even as a legitimate Cimarron princess anymore, I cannot say. There are likely some official policies about all that…”

“There are,” Syn inserted. “In dusty old books, as fragile as the dead bones of their creators.”

“More outdated rules than the Pura is fighting to uphold,” Jagger groused.

Samsyn tilted his stare back at Jayd. “Right now, if we went public about this, you would have to move out of the palais. Your crown, and all its privileges, could not go with you. You would become a commoner.”

“Albeit a well-loved one,” Jag reiterated.

Jayd emulated her brother’s pose, without his growly tone. “Actually, that sounds quite lovely.”

“Fuck,” her brother spat. “Creator help me.”

And there went her concerted effort to be nice. “I think the Creator needs your breath for assistance on better matters,” she volleyed. “In case it has missed your attention, I got all the way to Paris and survived there without you for more than a day. Without Ev, ’Raz, or a hundred keepers, either. ”