Page 51 of Bound

“You are referring to Xaria Cimarron, yes? The queen mother of this island, who thinks the Creator owes her for so much as a hangnail?”

“Hmm. Good one.” Samsyn threw over a fast wink. “I would thank you for it, but seeing as how you volunteered to be my murderer…”

Shiraz wheeled around and yanked her into a tight, sheltering hug. “Whatever it is, just know we have your back, yes?”

“Agreed.” Syn’s rumble was the reassuring lining on his hold too, sealing her in from behind. “Whatever asshole antics the rest of the world deals you, nothing changes this, fembla. Nothing changes us.”

It was another family-close expression, though it was buried deeper in the past than his earlier one. Back to a simpler time, in special places. During those precious summers in which she and her brothers were just kids with stick swords and treehouse castles. When the boys proudly wore the flower crowns she had made for them while they sat in a “ceremonial circle” and made that vow to each other over an “official” cup of pomegranate juice.

Nothing changes us.

Damn it. Oh, damn it!

She pushed out the words aloud, past the salty drops that had done the same to her eyes. “Mushy soldask,” she rasped, trying to elbow Samsyn. “I have not thought of that in so long.”

’Raz’s laugh was a gruff burst into her hair. “Me neither.”

Syn’s grunt was low but good-natured vibration in their huddle. “And I have never forgotten it.”

“All right, then,” she declared, reluctantly pushing free from the sibling sandwich. “Enough goofing off. Get on with it, you giant dorks. Go save the kingdom.”

“You mean giant badass dorks.” Syn swept up a hand, fingers poised in horns like a rock star. “Get on with it yourself, shrimp dip. Go appease the queen.”

“Can I not just help save the kingdom instead?”

Syn’s grin softened, giving away his commiseration for her agony. He leaned back over to peck the top of her head. “Everybody helps in their own way, little one.”

She snorted. “Is this the part where I tell you to fuck off?”

Shiraz chuckled. “Oh, my. The interesting lessons someone learned in Paris.”

Jayd was robbed of her comeback by another vibration of her phone. She groaned but glanced at the screen anyway, hoping it was a check-in from Brickham. Never mind that they had been apart for all of five minutes, or that he had come to her suite with nothing but the clothes on his back and the cane in his hand. In the last seven days, she had seen him accomplish things more impossible than manifesting a phone from thin air.

Damn it. The text was not his.

But nor was it another summons from Maimanne.

Little jewel, are you almost here?

Her breath hitched, but it stopped her not from doubling her pace. Little jewel. Only one person had claim to that nickname for her. The outside world knew him as Ardent Cimarron. But to her, he was…

“Paipanne?”

It rushed out while she crossed the transom between her mother’s formal receiving room and the more casual tearoom beyond. Once there, she swiveled in place with a confused frown. She stopped once Requiemme walked in, also peering around with curiosity.

“Where are they?”

Emme shook her head and swept out her hands, palms up. “Hrmmm…they?”

Jayd jerked a fast nod. “I think Paipanne is with her.”

“But where? Your mother always greets you in here.” She gingerly laid her fingertips on the gold teapot that took center stage on the ornate mahogany sideboard. “Nor, it seems, is she planning to. It’s cold.”

Jayd twisted her lips. “Something is off.”

Emme’s eyes widened. “Should I call for guards?”

“No.” Fully aware she might be cursing herself a fool for it soon, Jayd did not renege the call. “It is not that kind of off.” At least she did not think so.