Page 80 of Twisted Kings

“They choppered in. I guess there was an accident on the freeway and they didn’t want to sit in traffic,” the maid’s sagging against one of the low leather-padded benches, trying to catch her breath. Mrs. Harris looks at me, eyes dark and ominous.

“We must go up, now,” she says, and points to the broken steamer in my hands. “Set that aside.” I swallow, my heartbeat starting to stutter in my throat.

Wonderful. The real trial by fire begins now, I guess.

31

Noah

Ruby's green around the gills; flying by helicopter always does that to her, but I'm feeling fine and ready to jump out into the warm embrace of our home set. We've been gone so long that it feels like I hardly remember the look of the place.

Beside me, Ruby groans as we land, leaning forward with a pinched expression on her face.

"If I puke on one of the footmen, do you think they'll get upset?" She asks. The last few months have been hard on her. Ruby from before never would have cared. But New Ruby? New Ruby cares too much about what everyone and their dogs think. I hate it, it infuriates me, and while I know there's something I could do to fix it, she won't let me.

"Maybe try puking to the side," I advise my twin sister sagely. She rolls her eyes and then winces, the movement making her feel more nauseous. I observe her for a moment as our pilot checks in on us, turning around in his seat.

"Alright there, my lord, my lady?" He asks over the comms. I give him the thumbs up as Ruby moans softly, and looks out thewindow.

Out toward our home. My mouth practically waters at the sight. It's been too long since we've been away, but that can't be helped. Ruby needed what she needed, and I, as her twin, and protector, gave it to her. Mason and Benedict would understand. They always do, when it comes to us. Especially because I think in some way, they almost prefer us to be out of the house so we're not witness to their stupid feuding.

But now I'm back, and just like I protected my sister, I'll stop the two of them from fighting each other as well. Ruby is almost,almost, ready for marriage, and it's high time our older brothers turned their thoughts from destroying each other toward the task of finding her a suitable husband and the best possible match.

Nothing but the best for her. I swear it to myself as we step out into the fresh air, and I help her down onto the tarmac.

"Okay, I'm definitely going to be sick," she mumbles as we stop halfway across the tarmac on a red carpet rolled out just for us. A footman nearby, shoulders back and at the ready, watches us with wide eyes.

"Well, a sick bag," I say to him, snapping my fingers. He nearly jumps into the air to get it to us, racing the few paces to us with one in hand. I hold it for Ruby, glaring at the footman. "Lookaway," I growl at him, as she bends over, emptying her stomach into the bag, swaying into me with exhaustion and nausea. "There's it, that's alright," I soothe her, rubbing her back and pulling her long brown curls out of the way. She's a beauty, delicate nose and a smattering of freckles over them just like our mother had.

Not that I would know from personal experience, seeing as I can't remember what she looked like. But we have enough photos, and portraits, of our dear departed lady-mother that I know what she looked like almost as well as I know my own face, or Ruby's.

Ruby's face lifts from the bag as I hand her a handkerchief, and she wipes at her mouth and then coughs.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbles, looking a little less green now. The footman approaches again, taking the sick bag from her without a word. I offer her my arm.

"Don't worry about it. We all know what you're like," I say, not hiding the teasing lilt from my voice. She rolls her eyes and sighs, taking my arm.

"Whatever, just don't tell Benedict."

"Mmm, and have to share a secret with him? Never. Come on. Let's go in."

It's good to see the staff lined up to greet us as we walk to the house, the breeze tugging at Ruby's hair as we do, her curls fluttering around her shoulders and down her back.

Mrs. Harris is there, the creases at the corner of her eyes etched deeper, and I nod to her, as we approach. Everyone's all here, a few new faces and then—

I nearly stop short when I see her. My throat closes over.

There she stands, a few feet back from Mrs. Harris and to the side, in the plain gown of a nanny ready to chase after her charge.

My new toy.

That had been the words he'd texted me. Benedict's text had been cryptic, a few weeks back, with a simple photo of a girl asleep, a woman, rather, in a bed, her hand up by her face profile turned to the side. She'd been so peaceful, so beautiful, the smooth rose of her lips begging to be kissed, and bitten. It'd taken all my willpower not to jack off to that one photo alone, which was kind of pathetic. It was just a photo of a girl sleeping. But why did it hit me so hard? I'd ignored it and ignored him, not bothering to text back. I don't take my brother's leftovers. I have my damn pride.

I'd assumed he'd just gotten laid again and was bragging about it. Not that I cared. I could be as bad as him like that when I'm not taking care of—

Ruby.

I clear my throat, and turn to her, dragging my eyes away from the girl.