“If you want to kill a lot of people, why put it here?” she asked, glancing at her mother who was a little pale but as regal as ever, standing close by with her chin lifted and her gaze steady on the slow and meticulous progress of the workers assigned to remove the explosives. “Good question.” Her mother transferred her regard to her. “Now that the direct threat is over, come with me. Alone.” Both Marc and Damon looked as if they wanted to object, or at the least join them, but a single royal glance quelled any comments they might make, and that alone amused Jayla enough she meekly followed her mother from the room. Once a queen, always a queen. Maybe it was a good lesson to learn with two intractable males in her life. They went to the family apartments, so familiar Jayla could walk the corridors blindfolded, and when her mother waved her into the sitting room, used only for meditation or the most private of personal conversations, Jayla chose a comfortable corner chair. No one was invited into this sanctum lightly.
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