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“Not important.” I pushed off the wall and into a full crisscross position. It did nothing to help the strain on my backside, but got my stare in position to challenge her more directly. “C’mon. Tell me more about him.” Evil grin. “More importantly, why he turns you into a puddle of goo.”
She spurted a giggle. Cut it short by burying her face against her knees. “He does not turn me into a puddle of anything.”
“Hmmm.”
She glanced back up. “Hmmm?”
“Nothing. It’s just that…I hadn’t realized what pretty brown eyes you had.”
“Huh?” Her head jerked higher. “I have green eyes.”
“Ohhhh.” I tapped a finger to my lips, drawing the word out. “So you really are that full of shit, then.”
She jerked away from the wall herself. Drew a sizable breath, clearly winding up a line drive of a retort. I almost grinned. This was going to be fun.
The breath left her in a single whoosh—without a single word joining it.
As she stared, dumbstruck, right over my shoulder.
As a discernible wave of energy rustled through the crowd.
The excited murmurings, accompanied most people lurching to their feet and bowing, were definitely due to a new arrival in the shelter. A woman. For many moments, I had trouble understanding the fuss. The petite thing resembled a porcelain doll with her big sparkling eyes, shiny black curls, and high cheekbones. She seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place my finger on why—
Until I did realize why.
She was at least eighteen inches shorter than her three brothers. Evrest, Samsyn, and Shiraz.
Didn’t stop Jayd Cimarron from exuding the same force-of-nature vibe, even dressed in dull brown puddle stompers, faded blue jeans, a dark T-shirt, and a bright orange jacket. Water poured off the neon nylon as the princess rushed through the crowd, greeting people but still clearly in search of someone. A pair of guards flanked her, but weren’t one damn bit happy about the pell-mell path she cut through the shelter—
Until her face flooded with relief.
As soon as she laid eyes on Crista.
“Thank the Creator,” Jayd exclaimed, breaking into a little run.
“Dammit,” the larger of her guards gritted. Not only did he catch my attention because of his reddish-blonde Highlander mane, but with that raspy quality in his voice and that take-no-shit swagger? Hello, superhero audition.
“Settle your feathers, Jagger Fox,” Jayd groused at Superhero, before crushing Crista with a hug. “We found her, and I am allowed to be relieved about it.”
“Your Highness Jayd?” Crista, clearly stunned, didn’t hug the princess back. “Errrm…what are you…”
“Shiraz sent me,” Jayd cut in—though her expression sobered so tightly, I began to understand the bigger guard’s tension. Jagger. His name fit. The only smooth thing about him were his eyes, the color of buttered caramel.
“His H-Highness…s-s-sent you?” The words went parrot mode on Crista’s lips, mostly because her chin was violently trembling. My gut twisted as I watched it get worse, but I couldn’t very well tell her to chill. With her distress so tangible, I surged forward and grabbed one of her hands. The action startled her enough to stammer, “Creator’s mercy. My deplorable manners. Your Highness Jayd, this is—”
“Yes. I know.” Like her brothers, Jayd was no stranger to taking charge of a situation. “Miss Fava.” She nodded, though the move was more friendly than formal. “Brooke and Cam told me about their meeting with you outside ’Raz’s office. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”
“What is happening? What circumstances?” Crista struggled to be polite about it, but the spike in her stress was transparent. Since I’d never met Jayd before, having only read she was the most outgoing of the Cimarron siblings, I had to assume this tight tension wasn’t the norm for the woman. I also had to assume this was more about Crista, not Shiraz. If this was about him, he’d not send his little sister all the way to the shelter to fetch his assistant, especially after all but commanding Crista and me to stay down here until the security team’s “all clear”.
He was okay. He had to be. He would be, unless he wanted me to kick his very fine ass into next Tuesday.
“Crista.” Jayd stepped forward again, pushing her hands together like a petite prayer angel.
“Rahmié Créacu.” Crista sagged against me. “No, no. What happened? Is it my maimanne? My paipanne? Tell me!”
Jayd rushed in, embracing her tight “Dinné, they are both fine. I promise.” But as she moved away, she kept both hands cupped to the other woman’s delicate shoulders. “But we do need you to be strong, arkami, because—”
“Because…why?” Crista didn’t stand on ceremony anymore, for which I would’ve been supremely grateful, if not for her distress. A whimper escaped her defying words, the kind that stabbed the gut of anyone within earshot—because it was a sound of raw fear.
