“You okay?”
Blinking at the question that snapped her out of her memories and brought her back to Alura’s wedding reception, she nodded at her sister Cinder.
Next to the oldest, Cinder was the tallest of her siblings and almost a full head taller than Ember whenever they were barefoot. She’d always envied her sister for that statuesque beauty. As well as her gorgeous reddish-brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders in lush waves and amber eyes Ember would have killed for.
But the best part about Cin was her kind heart and the compassion she’d always held for everyone around her. No matter what, they could count on her for sympathy and hugs.
“I’m good.”
Brand laughed in Ember’s ear as she joined them. “No, she’s not. She’s been sick all day. And right now, she’s thinking of marching over there and snatching out every last bit of Alura’s hair. Want me to help?”
And that was why Ember loved her younger sister. Brandiwyn, or Brand as they often called her, always spoke her mind without a filter. Better yet, she usually spoke the minds of whoever was around her without a filter. And if you needed help hiding a body, she would always be there to lend an eager hand, and would die before she ratted you out.
Nothing could break Brand. Not even their mother’s glower. Or their father’s threats.
Steadfast and loyal, Brand was ever above reproach. It was her temper, daring, and mouth that got her into trouble. She gave as good as she got and refused to back down from anything, or anyone. In that regard, she was an awful lot like Bastien.
“It’s okay, Brand, but thank you for the offer.”
“Fine, but if you change your mind, you know where I live.”
Kindel laughed at her. “And now you know why I had to pat her down before I let her leave the house this morning. I was terrified what she might do to Bastien—or Alura—on your behalf.”
Brand reached for another glass of champagne. “Yeah, well, it’s time Alura learned to keep her hands off our men.”
Ember didn’t comment on Brand’s bitter words. Like her, she’d lost her last boyfriend to Alura’s machinations. “How am I supposed to have another happy family holiday after this?”
Kindel hugged her. “Don’t think about it. We’re always here for you.”
“And if it helps, remember that Bastien askedyouto marry him. His honor forced him to marry Alura.”
Brand was right. But Ember couldn’t quite give her the whole victory. “Yeah, but it was his wandering prick that got him into this.”
Cinder draped herself against Ember’s back so that she could laugh and whisper in her ear. “Thatwe can fix,blyta zusa. Give me a knife and five seconds.”
Leaning back into her arms, Ember smiled up at her. “Love you.”
“You, too.” Cinder kissed her cheek.
“So what mischief are my girls plotting? And don’t say nothing. I know that evil twinkle in those devious eyes.”
Ember wrinkled her nose at her mother. Though she had dark curly hair like Kindel’s, her mother’s features were closer to Cinder’s and Ashley’s. “They were thinking up ways to ensure that Alura’s child was an only.”
Their mother tsked at them, but then that was what Charlotte Wyldestarrin did best. As a decorated colonel for the Kirovarian Gyron Force—their elite fighter corps—she often said she could wrangle a platoon of soldiers easier than her six unruly daughters. “Well, if you do decide to make a move, don’t get any blood on those dresses. Your aunt Tish wants you to wear them for her daughter’s wedding next year.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kindel said with a sharp salute. “I shall keep our troops in line.”
“See that you do, Major.” With an adorable wink, their mother headed back to where their father waited.
Then Ember made the mistake of catching Bastien’s gaze.
And the hunger in those hazel eyes scorched her. A hunger he quickly squelched and blinked away as if he realized how obvious and inappropriate it was.
Her stomach hit the floor. And she hated how much she wanted to be the bride beside him. Damn, he looked edible in those elegant clothes that fit his lean, ripped body in a way that should be outlawed. There was no sign of the incredibly powerful and capable soldier she knew him to be. He was all regal visir tonight.
Except he lacked his brother’s overt haughty snobbery. With Bastien, his patrician bearing was casual and innate. Good-natured and inviting.
While his siblings refused standard military housing, citing a special need for privacy, Bastien insisted on it. If it was good enough for his people, then he deemed it more than appropriate for himself. He never tried to wiggle past curfew. Never used his regal standing to eat in the better mess halls or to leave base for his food.
