And, for the first time ever, Aidan saw what Éibhear had always said. “If you look closely, you realize Keita resembles my mother more than Morfyd ever could.”

Aidan had dismissed Éibhear’s statement, believing that Morfyd, with her white hair and crystal-blue eyes, was like a twin to the queen. But Éibhear had been right all along, hadn’t he?

Aidan knew that now as he watched the princess coldly size them up like cattle she’d found at an open market.

“Plus you also have Uther and Caswyn with you?”

“They’re wounded.”

“I’m sure that can be fixed.” She nodded. “This could work out perfectly,” Keita announced. “Yes. Perfect. I can definitely use you all.”

Aidan just bet she could.

“Use us for what?” Brannie asked.

“To help me—”

“No,” Brannie stated quickly, with no room for argument. But Keita found room. She always found room.

“If you’d only listen—”

“No.”

“It’s import—”

“No.”

Keita put her hands on her hips, her expression now truly annoyed. “I am a princess. I order you, Branwen the Awful.”

And when Brannie bent over at the waist, her hands on her knees, her hysterical laughter ringing out over the entire forest—Aidan wasn’t exactly surprised.

Then Brannie looked at him. She looked at him in that way she had.

And that’s when he started laughing, too.

* * *

“Oh, thank you, Keita,” Brannie stated with all honesty. She wiped tears from her eyes. “Poor Aidan and I had been sniping at each other the last hour or so, but you made us feel so much better. Didn’t she, Aidan?”

He nodded since he was unable to reply verbally. What with the hysterical laughter and all.

“I’m not joking, Branwen. I’m ordering you all to accompany me on my journey.”

“Stop! Stop!” Brannie begged, now leaning against Aidan’s shoulder, unable to keep herself standing. “You’re killing us!”

Keita’s dark brown eyes narrowed on Brannie, but what did her ridiculous cousin expect? That she actually had any control of this situation? Yes. She was a princess. Yes. She was royal born. But during a war the only ones with true power over troops were the queen and those given military titles. Like Branwen. Like her mother. Like all her uncles and aunts. Not like Keita. Never Keita.

She loved her cousin, she really did, but she’d never taken her seriously. Not unless it involved juicy gossip about the family or other useless royals like herself.

Still . . . no point in hurting Keita’s feelings—assuming she had any feelings—so Brannie choked back her laughter and reached over to slap Aidan’s shoulder to get him to stop laughing as well.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He stood tall, his laughter under control.

Until they made the mistake of locking eyes. Then they both burst out laughing once more, Brannie bending over at the waist, Aidan forced to lean against Brannie this time in order to continue standing.

“We’re sorry, Keita,” Brannie gasped out, seeing through her tears that her cousin had closed her eyes. She assumed in frustration. “It’s just—”