“Life is different for you now. As a younger sibling in a royal house, you have no real role. And even less freedom.”
She chews on her lower lip, looking annoyed. “I used to be able to go places by myself. Ride a horse. Talk to people. Help them because they knew me and came to me and respected me. Now I’m stuck behind these walls where no one really needs me.”
“There are days I feel trapped, too,” I say. “But there are worse prisons than this.”
“Yes, but everyone needs you. Especially Griffin.” Scowling, Jocasta kicks a piece of wood across the room—debris from Griffin’s rampage. “Sintans should see their new royals. They were nothing but welcoming on our way north last spring. I asked if I could travel the realm, with a large guard, of course, but Griffin won’t let me. He says it’s too dangerous.”
“He’s right.”
Her eyes flash a fierce blue. “You, too? I thought you’d understand.”
“I do understand. But the realms are entering into a Power Bid now. Fisa is a shadow over us all. Tarvan snakes are rattling their tails. They’ve attacked us twice, and the last time Griffin nearly died. What do you think they’d do if they got their hands on you?”
Jocasta doesn’t answer.
In her silence, I answer for her. “They’d tear apart everyone you love as they came for you, and then they’d tear you apart, too.”
“Then I should learn to defend myself!” She starts pacing, her fluid prowling reminding me of a certain Sintan warlord I know. “Teach me to fight, Cat. Make me less of a liability. Then maybe I can have some freedom.”
I doubt it. Overprotective is Griffin’s middle name. “I’m better with knives. I can teach you to stab and throw, but someone else should train you with a sword. Carver’s the best out of everyone.”
She huffs a laugh that’s entirely without humor. “Carver thinks his sisters should be wrapped in glass and perched on pedestals. He’ll never agree.”
And here I thought Carver was less overbearing than Griffin. “What about Flynn?”
Jocasta stops mid-step and turns crimson. “We hardly speak anymore. I don’t think he even looks at me.”
“Oh, he looks. He just doesn’t want to.”
Her flush deepens. “You really think so? Why not?”
“Because you’re Griffin’s sister. And Carver’s sister. And a Sintan princess now.” I could probably go on, but I don’t want to depress her.
“He’s the highest-ranking soldier we have. He’s been with us forever. He’s not exactly a nobody!”
“You’re right. And he’s more than old enough to settle down. He’s responsible and even-tempered. I’m fairly certain he wants a family. He’s perfect for you.”
Looking even more annoyed, Jocasta resumes her pacing. I realize too late I should have let her argue her case. It might have eased some of her frustration.
Someone knocks. Jocasta is closer and yanks open the door. Flynn is on the other side, dwarfing the doorway with his size. They both go stock-still, their eyes simultaneously widening. Mine do, too. I’ve only seen Flynn in the royal wing once before, the morning he burst into this same room with Eneas in tow, the healer who saved me after Daphne’s attack.
Flynn unfreezes first and reaches out, removing a downy white feather from Jocasta’s jet-black hair. He starts to hand it to her but then drops his arm, folding the feather into his large hand.
Jocasta throws her shoulders back, her color rising again fast. It’s nearly a match for Flynn’s shock of auburn hair. “Flynn.”
“Jo.” Flynn clears his throat. “Jocasta.”
Her eyes narrow. “You can still call me Jo.”
He looks at her for a moment and then frowns. “Your hair is a mess.”
Her eyebrows wing up her forehead. “That’s how you start our first conversation in months?”
Panic flits through Flynn’s brown eyes. He looks like he’s fallen into quicksand and doesn’t know how to get out. He scratches the back of his neck, his face turning a ruddy color. “It’s only… I just thought something might be wrong.”
“Did you?” Jocasta crosses her arms, the movement thrusting her breasts up and revealing a good deal of skin at the neckline of her low-cut gown. Flynn tries so hard not to notice. Poor Flynn.
“Did you need something?” I ask.
He looks at me like I’m his savior. I’m getting that a lot lately. I hate it. Don’t these people know I’m doomed, and that I’m going to doom everyone along with me?
I guess not. Because I haven’t told them.
“Helen is leaving,” Flynn says.
“What? She just gave birth.”
“She says she can travel, and she looks like Zeus is chasing her with a thunderbolt. The woman is scared.”
Of me, of course. Either she thinks I’ll accuse her of my near-death—because, obviously, if someone tries to kill me, it must be family—or she knows her husband outed me to Griffin, and she’s afraid I’ll retaliate.
“Griffin is stalling your cousin and her family in the courtyard.”
I swallow, suddenly nervous. “He told you, then?” If Flynn knows Helen Fisa is my cousin, he knows.
Flynn grins, surprising me. “I knew you were holding out on us. Knowing you, it had to be something momentous.” He claps me on the shoulder, nearly sending me flying. “Glad you didn’t disappoint.”