If Evrest’s energy was beating at the atmosphere before, it decimated everything now. Everyone, Jayd included, stepped backward from its force as her brother swept toward the door and then yanked open the portal.
As the heavy wood slab pounded back against the wall, Evrest commanded, “Get out.”
Santelle was brave—or foolish—enough to scoot forward, hands outstretched. “Majesty. Come, now. If we all simply take a breath and—”
“Get. Out.”
“King Evrest!”
“Stand. Down.” Carris’s dictate, coming halfway through the man’s shout, unnerved Jayd three times as much. “I mean it, Santelle.” With hands clasped behind his back, he stepped into the open doorway. “Clearly, His Majesty needs some time to contemplate the nuances of our offer.”
“Nuances?” Evrest spat a bitter laugh.
“But of course. We are only asking for one council seat. And the marriage contract will only have a twenty-year fidelity clause.”
“For both sides? Wait. No.” Ev raised a stiff hand. “Do not insult me with an answer.”
Carris drew up his posture in a new bid for mobster charisma. “Your Majesty. It would be my utmost honor to—”
Evrest’s new bark gashed the air. “Honor? Spare me, Carris. All of it. To evoke honor, you have to know what the stuff is.”
Santelle leaned forward. “Your Majesty—”
“Silence. You are treading on ice as thin as your character, you traitorous, scum-sucking—”
“Enough.” She scared herself, uttering the order with authority that came close to Carris’s. “Leave them be, Evrest.” She clutched him by both elbows, needing it for her composure as much as his. “We will all take the night and think this over.”
“Ah, yes.” Santelle exhaled with fervor. “Take the night. Outstanding advice for everyone.”
Jayd shot the man a derogatory glance. Of course it is, you treasonous oaf. Because that is all I will need to fully resolve this issue.
“Once again, Her Highness proves to be as wise as she is beautiful.”
Jayd responded to Carris’s insertion with more than a glance. The snake received the full force of her glower. “Flattery lends men time they cannot afford.” She lifted her head, calmly meeting the prispoul’s darkened glare. “Bon sonar, Mr. Carris. We shall summon you back tomorrow.”
She forgave herself for the fib before the Pura scum were even gone from the palais. She had to. Not a second could be wasted now. The resolve seared the forefront of her mind as she rushed into her suite located nearly at the opposite end of the building from Ev’s office and the other governmental operations suites.
Most days, Jayd bemoaned the distance, but it was an extra blessing right now. Providence dished out another favor in the form of a surprise squall over the sea. As the small storm rolled closer, the waves below her balcony became a kaleidoscope of colors. Another seamless coincidence, since her nervous system was a similar cacophony of feelings.
She had thought herself ready for this. Had spent the better part of last night in its preparation. Reviewing the details. Smoothing at every possible wrinkle. But now that it came time to really squeeze the trigger, could she?
You have no choice here, Jayd.
“There is no other way.”
She repeated it a few times after that, hoping the desperate whispers would become a motivational mantra while hurrying into her closet and peeling off her sundress. But the words got no easier to say as reality barged in. Off came her bra, replaced by a chest cincher that held back her cleavage by at least a few inches. Over that, she donned a plain shirt and a basic suede vest along with rugged trousers that had likely never been washed.
“Oh, by all the sweet stars.” The blurt was Requiemme’s, issued as her maid entered and beheld her in the new ensemble. “Ohhh, Jayd Dawne,” she moaned. “You are…well and truly serious about this scheme?”
“Schemes are for bonsuns like Carris and Santelle.” She directly eyed the woman via one of the space’s full-length mirrors. “This is a plan intended to blast their dirt into dust.”
And then, if the Creator kept smiling upon her, into nothingness on the wind.
Requiemme sighed heavily, though her stance was still resolved. “So…I am to summon him, then?”
“If you would like.” Jayd actually smiled while turning and rocked back against a wall full of her formal gowns. It was nearly a relief to think about not being squeezed into one of them again. “But if I know him, that will not be nec—”
A defined pound, followed by a bunch of thuds, interrupted her. They came from her suite’s main room, into which she rushed behind Emme, to behold the prone form of the him they had just referenced.
But the next moment, Jagger Fox rolled to his feet with the same speed and grace as his animal namesake. He shook out his russet spikes and then slanted a grin their way. The expression was wholly wrong but right for the occasion, which came as no huge surprise. Unpredictability was Jagger’s norm—and right now, that was another welcome comfort for Jayd.
“Oddly, I might miss sneaking in here through your laundry chute, Ripley.”
The nickname, his unique privilege due to sharing her love for the character from the Alien movies, made her lips quirk up a little too. And then, as she helped yank the super-strength suction cups from his palms, even a bit higher. “Well, nothing is stopping you from making the climb just for fun.”
“Except that you will not be here to do that at the end.” Jagger tagged it with a blissful groan as Jayd dug her thumbs into the centers of his palms.
“If she is not here to do that.”
Requiemme’s rebuttal earned her Jagger’s scowl. “Way to support your princess there, angsty Emme.”
“Her, I support,” the maid snapped. “But the rest of this insane plot…”
“Plan,” Jayd injected.
“…which shall carry many more ramifications than simply sneaking out for a nectar binge at Asuman Cove, young lady!”
“Damn. I shall miss those too,” Jagger muttered.
Jayd jabbed him with a swift side-eye. “Before you start with the ‘young lady,’ just remember that I know where your balls are.”
Jagger obliged with a violent choke. “Yes, my princess. You certainly do.”
But that was enough of that subject. At least for now. There were times for revisiting the not-so-distant past, when the two of them had decided to heed the million rumors about their blatant “sexual” chemistry and take things to that equally apparent climax. Except that it was not so apparent—or climactic. But conclusive. Definitely that. Though she and Jagger shared no bodily fluids, they had exchanged something more significant. Secrets. Intimacies they had sworn to take to their graves—or anywhere else the Creator would take them.
That night, they had chuckled about that last part of their vow. Laughter that had come through tears—since they agreed that neither of them would be free from Arcadia for more than a few weeks at a time. Diplomatic trips were the “vacations” of her future, and military training trips were the excursions of his.
That was all about to change.
The realization socked her in the gut as Jagger crossed to her writing desk and propped his backside against it. With deft precision, he unsnapped the long side pockets in his black cargo pants. From the compartments, he pulled out thick sheafs of paper. He stacked them atop each other and then held them out as Jayd walked over.