Into His Command (24 page)

Mentally, I drove nails to my feet. It was the only way to stay rooted in place, instead
of rushing to his side. Comfort that would only embarrass him. Assurance he didn’t
want.

“No,” he finally growled. “
No.
This is not the solution.”

Cam, kicking at the floor, let out a rough sigh. “Sorry, guys, but I still agree with
Syn. How does this address the issue? Get us any closer to the big kahunas writing
the checks for the Pura? Or whoever these assholes are.”

Her answer came from the least likely source in the room. The man who finally snapped
his deep silence to speak. “Samsyn will get closer than me,” Evrest asserted.

Syn jerked a glare over his shoulder. “
Brother.
You cannot possibly think—”

“I do.” Hands at his sides, shoulders levelled, Evrest had his king-in-charge mode
at full force. “It is a good idea, Syn.” He cocked a brow Grahm’s way. “Actually,
as Jag best phrased it, brilliant.”

Syn stabbed a finger toward the window. “Full moon. That must be it. Your stupid dog
side is taking over, right?”

Evrest chuckled. “If it means I get to sleep twenty hours tomorrow, why not?”

“As long as I get to be your lazy bitch.” Camellia snuggled into his side.

“Bet your sweet ass, my little
sevette
.”

“Get your cock out of your brain and pay attention!” Samsyn charged.

“My cock
and
my brain are in the right places, little brother. The only one not seeing this clearly
is you.”

“I am
not
qualified to be king!”

“Of course you are.” Evrest gently let Cam go before pacing to his brother. “You have
accompanied me, advised me, and protected me since the crown was placed on
my
head, Samsyn. You have seen every one of my triumphs, my mistakes, my good days,
and my hell-in-a-handbasket days.” A smile spread on his lips, filled with quiet emotions
I could only guess at. “And you have absorbed it all with the compassion and acumen
I could only ever
hope
to have.”

Everyone in the room held their breath. Except Samsyn, who was busy blustering. “But
your British education—”

“Yielded me nothing but a piece of paper in a frame—and things
you
already know, here,”—he tapped Syn’s forehead—“and here.” Then the center of his
chest. “Fortunately for us, the rest of the world is blinded by that piece of paper
on the wall too. If we get very, very lucky, they will continue judging you by your
lack of one.”

I heard every word Evrest uttered but didn’t match it to a meaning, until Samsyn reacted.
The look on his face, so vulnerable and open, gave me a window of insight—to the person
most people probably saw him as. The gun at his brother’s side. The brawn behind Evrest’s
brains. Hell, even the muscly hunk to be swooned over.

Not the charmer who’d matched wits with me over the years.

Not the man with the eyes that glistened when his brain became a superhighway of thought.

Not the guy perfectly capable of duping a bunch of Puras with his dumb stud act—while
stealing their secrets out from underneath them.

“Shit,” I blurted. Dashed my stare to Evrest. “Shit. That’s right.” Then to Camellia.
“They’re right.”

Syn glowered. “Fuck. Now you too?”

I let myself walk over now, pushing against the force of his resentment. “Syn…listen.
This really might be our best chance of catching those wing nuts.” As Evrest scooted
back, making room for me, I scooped up Syn’s hands in my own. “
You’re
our best chance.”

He said nothing for at least a minute. Silently scrutinized my face. I changed nothing
about my expression, knowing I already had all of it bared to him. My belief. My hope.
My love.

He dropped his head. Poured his gaze over the mesh of our fingers. I stared at him
with matching intensity—and the silence that hit when he stole my breath all over
again. The first rays of dawn filtered through the pines outside, kissing the top
of his dark head like a blessing from the sky itself.

“All right,” he finally muttered. “All right. Creator help me…I will do it.”

Whooshes of breath exploded from all the men. Camellia let loose a cute squee.

After the initial celebration, Evrest sobered. Too damn fast. Samsyn rolled his eyes.
“Dare I ask what the hell is the issue now?” he growled at the king.

Evrest stared hard at the two of us. Parted his mouth to answer but clamped it shut
with as much decision, teeth clacking. When Syn dropped my hands then wheeled on him,
their chests slammed with an audible thud. Cam’s eye roll stopped me from breaking
them up. Apparently, this was typical shit for the Cimarron boys.

“Dammit, Evrest. Just be out with it.”

“Remove your ugly face from mine first,
soldask
.”

Samsyn stood down, snarling low. “Witless dog.”

“PMS’ing putz.”

“Damn douche bag.”

Laughter barked the air. Mine. And, thank God, Cam’s. In the wake of our strange ice
breakers, Evrest held up both hands—though the angle of his head spoke more to his
ultimate surrender. “All right,” he muttered, “
All right
.” He folded his arms, borrowing a healthy dose of Syn’s nervousness from a minute
ago. “To be clear about things, I am ecstatic about the possibility of staying up
here with my
sevette
for a few weeks. But if
you
want to get this over faster—”

“Yes,” Syn butted in. “
Fuck
, yes.”

“Then I would recommend one essential aid to cut your ‘reign’ by weeks. An…element…guaranteed
to bring the—how did you say it, Brooke?”

“Wing nuts?” I offered.

“The wing nuts. Yes. A great deal of them, at least…straight to the Palais receiving
rooms, without even trying…”

“Barbecue bonus,” I exclaimed. Waved off their perplexed frowns. “Forget it. Let’s
just hear what the magic wand is.”

I had to admit, even I was impatient from Evrest’s new pause. The man’s jaw firmed,
making me wonder how horrible this “aid” had to be. Satin breeches? A powdered wig?
Oh God…a haircut?
No. Please, no. Not a haircut
.

“A wife.”

‡

N
ow I wished
he’d just meant a haircut.

With every fiber of my quaking body.

I battled the vibrations by pacing across one of the castle’s spacious guest rooms—because
God forbid, I go back to Syn’s room
now
—while waiting for Jag to return from the fishing village down the hill with something
better to wear than a dirty camisole and Syn’s shorts. For the time being, my attire
consisted of more borrowed Samsyn-wear: a French blue dress shirt with all the tags
still on it, hanging to just above my knees.
Stylin’
.

I didn’t bother cuffing the shirt’s sleeves. They gave my nervous fingers something
to work with as I walked. Even so, I fought for the Zen clarification of each step.
Worked to space them the same. Brought them down with the same pressure on the thick
Turkish carpet.

Once upon a time, I’d done this once, twice, sometimes three times a day, an hour
for each stint. I’d hated Jag because of it, but calm and me hadn’t been the best
of pals back then. I’d begged him to train me with all the aplomb of the bouncy dog
from
Up
, with a matching attention span. Allowing me on a training mat with anyone would’ve
been pre-registering me for a death certificate. I’d come a long way since then—but
fortunately, never forgot the pacing.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Groan.

Sink to the bed. Morose stare at the floor. Who the hell was I kidding? Back to the
bouncy dog bit—only this time, it was worse. This wasn’t eager stress. This was
stress
stress.

Worse.

This was what-the-hell-have-I-just-agreed-to stress.

I flopped back onto the duvet. Closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. No damn help—unless
my aim was to relive the gory aftermath of Evrest’s proposal, second by agonizing
second.

Behind my eyelids, the scene burst to life once more.
“Wife
?” Syn had repeated, as if his brother suggested returning to Sancti wearing his sliced
balls as earrings. Evrest’s conviction had been just as unnerving—no less so when
he’d started laying out his logic. Returning to Sancti with a wife would instantly
erase Syn’s playboy image, making the High Council
and
the populace take him more seriously. At the same time, he’d secure the sympathy
card: just as he’d found “true love”, Evrest and Camellia had been “violently taken”
from him. Back door channels would be abuzz with speculation about all the upheaval
the new king had been through. What
would
his political position be, especially after his brother’s murder? After everything
he’d been through, surely King Samsyn would desire returning to a simpler Arcadia…the
security of the old ways…

It had all made complete sense.

Until Evrest’s suggestion about who should be his little brother’s new bride.

I was saved from recalling Syn’s exact reaction to
that
, by a rhythmic knock at the bedroom door. In Vermont, such a cheery greeting meant
a neighbor bearing brownies or a Girl Scout selling cookies. Right now, I could only
connect the sound to one person.

“Hey.” Sure enough, Camellia’s face appeared—followed by the rest of her. She carried
a brown paper shopping bag. “Jag’s back from the village. I’m playing messenger girl.
Didn’t know if you’d be sleeping or something.”

“Sleeping?” Barking laugh. Why not take advantage of the chance? Little else validated
it right now. “Sure.
You
try being told you’re about to get married, that you’ll be lying to a whole country
about the reason why, and see how ‘sleepy’ you feel.”

Cam parked the bags on the dark wood writing desk. Rushed to the bed and yanked me
into a tight hug. “I know this is all crazy.”

I laughed again. Not so enthusiastically. “Understatements-R-Us, anyone?”

She tilted her head and smiled softly. “Cold feet?”

“Ehhh. Lukewarm?” I spread a hand across the bed’s downy white comforter. “Look…my
head gets it. The decision makes sense. Finding another woman to pull this off, even
with an expedited security clearance check, would take at least a week.”

“It makes sense from other angles, too.”

“I was listening, dammit.” Apologetic glance, though I knew it wasn’t necessary. Cam
understood. “And I get that part too. The public will believe this. Syn and I have
had a semi-working relationship for a while. And this week, we’ve been through a lot
more than that.” I prayed she didn’t probe into that one. When she didn’t, I promised
karma payback for the favor and went on, “It’ll look like we were forced to confront
some dormant feelings.”

Meaningful beat. Then another. “Looks like that from the inside, too.”

Shit. Karma had wasted no time on collecting
that
one.

I lifted a lot more than a glance this time. The woman was ready, rebutting my stare
like some mystical sage, my spirit animal, and fairy godmother rolled neatly together.

“Shut up.” I grumbled as she giggled. A fresh attack of nerves set in, parching me
for the hundredth time in five minutes. I reached for the water on the nightstand—with
my left arm. “
Shit
!”

Ugh. The sling was going to be a necessity. Gee, the wedding photos were going to
be lovely…
not.

Cam stepped over, pouring the water then pressing it into my
right
hand. “There’s a bright side here, you know. You’re going to be the darling of the
kingdom, then the world, with that cut little hole in your arm.”

“Be careful what you’re labeling ‘cute’ and ‘little’.”

“I can see the blog headlines already,” she went right on. “‘The queen who saved a
queen’.”

I rolled my eyes while swallowing the water. “You mean the girl so scared, she shook
like a Chihuahua?”

She indulged me with another laugh. “Don’t forget the best part. This will be one
hell of a way to tell the world your family’s still alive. Oh come
on,
Brooke.” She responded to my shiver, grabbing my good hand and squeezing. “Kavill
and his smarm boys won’t dare take you out now. It’ll defeat their purpose of being
adored. In case you haven’t noticed, they’ve had PR and recruitment problems lately.”

I nodded, as much for me as her. “I’ve heard. Something about a bombing attempt on
the World Cup games?”

“Doesn’t matter now. They’re fleas, and they’re about to get the blood crushed out
of them.” An eager grin flowed from her. “And as soon as we straighten out this bullshit
with the Pura, then Ev and I return from the dead, you and Syn can get a nice, quiet
annulment. Then you’ll finally get to go
home
. In just a few months, you’ll be watching the fall colors in Vermont and—Brooke?
Brooke
?”

I didn’t blame her for turning the infomercial excitement into a cry of alarm. I would’ve
done the same, had she done what I did. But I could no more stop the tears than understand
them—