Page 63 of Brazen King

“You up for sparring today?” I ask after a heavy silence. I need something to do that will let off steam, and no one makes a more mentally challenging sparring partner than Lance. He’s a good part of the reason why I’m so adept at fighting.

“Sure,” he agrees. Then another long pause. “So, what’s the Sokolov plan since your proposal failed again?”

It’s a knife to the gut—even if I don’t want to admit it. And I know my foster brother doesn’t intend it that way, but he’s never been very good at beating around the bush. Cutting a bite of omelet with my fork, I chew as I think.

He waits, perfectly content to give me the time I need now that he’s addressed what’s on his mind—likely the reason he’s here so early this morning.

“Nothing,” I say finally. “We won’t be antagonizing the Sokolovs anymore.”

I take another good-sized bite for an excuse to delay answering the baffled look he shoots me.

His eyes widen, his dark brows creeping up his forehead as his half-chewed bite lingers forgotten in his mouth. Then he swallows hard. “Have you come down with some incurable disease or something?”

His tone holds genuine distress, and I know Lance is addressing my behavior toward the Russians lately. He’s not wrong to sense something’s off. When it gets right down to it, since I made that deal with Natasha, I haven’t been acting like myself.

Usually, cutthroat is what we’re known for being. We’re the Irish Kings.No mercycould practically be our slogan. And here I am releasing Boris’s men with little more than a slap on the wrist and taking a step back after he and his daughters have blatantly turned their noses up at me.

Maybe something really is wrong with me.

“Does love count?” I ask, shaking my head. “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve got a bad case of it when it comes to Natasha Sokolov.”

Lance sits stunned, his food completely forgotten now. And I can tell in the silence that follows that he really had no clue she’s been creeping into the house for weeks now. She’s just that good.

“I’m sorry, did I just hear the wordlovecome out of your mouth?” Quinn quips, entering the dining room with a goofy grin.

“Who’s asking?” I say suspiciously. I can see the perfect window for teasing me that she’s about to crawl through.

“Don’t give me that look,” she insists, plopping into a chair across from Lance and reaching for the bowl of fruit. She serves herself a generous portion. “I just never thought the day would come when Killian King might have serious feelings for one of his girls. Who’s the lucky woman?”

“Are you done?” I demand as Lance snorts around his coffee mug.

“No, seriously though, I think if you love a girl, you should go for it. Love isn’t somedisease. It’s beautiful and shouldn’t be taken lightly,” she insists, her voice turning gentle at the end.

And even though I’ll always think of Quinn as my kid sister, I kind of like this mature, sage side of her that’s willing to weigh in on a matter I am, admittedly, completely in over my head on.

But Lance, ever the dark, brooding pessimist, seems to have a completely different take on it—probably because he knows far more about the Sokolovs and what it would mean to fall in love with Natasha. “Love is a weakness,” he states bluntly, scowling at me with a determination that says he’ll put me in the looney bin if I ever say something so nonsensical again. “It’s a delusion that will get you killed.”

“Oh please!” Quinn objects, her voice raising as she takes Lance on. “You can’t possibly believe something so dire.Welove each other,” she points out.

The room goes silent as Lance’s gaze flashes to Quinn’s face. And though the implication could mean that she and Lance are in love, I know better than to jump to conclusions and strangle my foster brother before he has a chance to speak. Because he would never be so rash as to go down that slippery slope—even if my kid sister has had a crush on him for years.

It’s painfully obvious at times. And I can see the awkward tension that flits across his face whenever she says something that might hint at her feelings for him. But thankfully, Lance has never shown any indication of reciprocating those feelings.

If he did, I might just have to kill my best friend.

And I would prefer not to.

As if suddenly realizing the ambiguity of her statement, Quinn flinches, and her cheeks turn a deep shade of red beneath her freckles. She drops her gaze to her breakfast of fruit as she stammers, “W-what I meant was that the three of us love each other like a family.”

Lance’s shoulders relax as the tension dissipates, but he doesn’t back down from his argument. Instead, he broodssilently as he waits for Quinn to give her full thesis. That’s what it will take before he’ll offer his counterargument.

“Come on,” she insists, looking between us now as both Lance and I eat silently. “You can’t deny that the King family is stronger for the kind of love that you two have as brothers. You have each other’s backs no matter what, which means you can take on a lot more risk and still have the confidence that you’ll get through it together. That makes youstronger.”

She does have a point. And I wonder if Natasha and I might find strength from our feelings for each other. I certainly don’t feel for Lance the way I feel about her. But strangely enough, I do trust her—almost as much as I trust my foster brother and best friend.

I trust her more than I know I should.

Which could end up getting me killed.

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