“It’s not like that,” Isaiah said, his nostrils flaring with frustration. “You want her to sleep on some hard cell floor beneath your palace? It’s still a prison, even if it’s a comfortable one.”
“It is not.” Samkiel blurted. “Where else should I keep them? They cannot speak or eat. Gods, they can’t even blink because of you all. And if something were to happen, no one but I can release the bars on their cells. I will not lose my family again. And just to make this perfectly clear, you do not get a say over Imogen and what she does.”
“Gods, I’d think you were jealous if you didn’t constantly whine and scream Dianna’s name like a whimpering hound.”
Samkiel’s lip curled into a snarl. “I’m going to kill you.”
I cleared my throat, and both men looked at me, their hands raised, ready to throttle the other. I tipped my head toward the child sitting behind me, watching and listening with bated breath and wide, scared eyes. “How about no killing before everyone’s had breakfast? Think we can manage that?”
Samkiel took a deep breath and released it as they both dropped their hands and adjusted their posture. I wondered if they were more afraid of dealing with me than each other, but I didn’t have much time to consider it before another idea slipped into my mind.
“Wait?” I said, placing my mug down. “You said sleep? Can they sleep?”
“Yes, you—” Samkiel emitted a warning growl, and Isaiah huffed in annoyance before continuing. “Yes, they can. The words used to control them allow it.”
Samkiel and I both looked at each other. Not only were their words to control them, but Isaiah apparently knew them all. Isaiah caught our look, and I could already see the idea forming in the asshole’s mind.
“I’ll teach you if you let me stay with her,” Isaiah said.
There it was.
“Absolutely not,” Samkiel said with every bit of authority a king could wield.
“Why? I kept her alive and out of harm’s way in Nismera’s legion. You have no idea the—”
Samkiel’s arms folded across his chest, the corded muscle there flexing from the effort of not reaching out to strangle his brother. “Oh, trust me, I have an idea, and while I appreciate you protecting her and rescuing her, I still do not trust you.”
Isaiah shook his head before looking at me with pleading eyes. “Dianna, look at me, read me, or whatever that bond thing does. Tell him my intentions are not what he thinks.”
I sighed and let my eyes flare, reluctantly reaching across that thread that tied us together. It wasn’t like my bond with Samkiel. That reminded me of a warm blanket on a snow-capped mountain. It was warmth, protection, safety, and security. It was so strong it felt unbreakable, permanent, and organic in nature, as if it were built into our very beings. The tie between Isaiah, Kaden, and me was fragile and felt like it could be undone with just a tug.
It took a little effort, but I reached for Isaiah, knowing there would be no peace in our home until this was settled. He felt like living flames and darkness, tight and wound to the point of pain. His inner turmoil was not directed at us. Gods, what had happened with Nismera?
I looked past it, searching for anything linked to Imogen’s name. Like a small candle in a dark tavern, her image flickered in the chaos of his mind, her name floating like a soft melody. The room I found was welcoming and devoid of the cold, as if waiting for someone to come and make it a home. There was no ill will or malice, but something was there. This place was warmed by an ember of hope and peace, a bastion of safety from the horrors that swirled outside. It was just a small flame, but I knew it would burn like wildfire if coaxed.
I blinked, and the room came back to me. The smell of sweet baked bread and eggs filled the air, and I could feel Miska behind me. Samkiel and Isaiah stood where they had been, staring at me. I met Isaiah’s eyes and said, “No.”
His throat bobbed, and he looked like I’d slapped him, but I could tell he wasn’t done fighting for her. I wondered just how far he would go, and I was willing to test it. “Do you truly want her just standing below in a dark, cold dungeon while we sleep on feather beds?”
Samkiel and I tipped our heads, staring at him and his lame attempt at convincing us this was a valid idea.
“She’s not sleeping with you,” Samkiel said. “End of discussion.”
“She’s slept with me before.”
“What?!” Samkiel snapped, and I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel. I knew he could destroy the kitchen with the power I felt emanating from him at Isaiah’s poor choice of words. Not a single part of me felt jealous of how proudly Samkiel stood up for and protected Imogen. I knew the old version of myself would have. The version of me that was beyond broken and hurt, but so much had changed, and I had his back on this. The thought of Milani touching him had made me crazy, but I knew that despite their past, what had been between Imogen and Samkiel had long since past. Imogen was family, and I’d do anything for the family he had given me. My life for theirs would never be a question.
Plus, Samkiel had whimpered my name this morning before he’d spilled down my throat, so that could also be why I was feeling more than a little secure at the moment.
“No, not like that,” Isaiah quickly countered. “Fuck.” Isaiah growled low in his throat as if considering if he needed to defend his honor, or whatever version of it he had, but he just looked at me before tossing his arms up and storming out.
I smiled behind my mug at Samkiel’s protectiveness. He’d do the absolute worst, as would I, to protect those he loved. Isaiah just seemed a little slow to catch on.
Samkiel ran his fingers through his hair, leaving parts of it sticking up, as he walked to me and sat down.
Miska gave him a small smile and offered him some of her food. He shook his head, smiling back at her. “You need it. I’m sure they were feeding you scraps, like the hounds they are,” Samkiel said, yelling the last part toward the doorway, his voice carrying down the hall.
“Fuck you, Samkiel!” Isaiah called back.
