Raines, Elizabeth - Captivated [Wicked Missions 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Elizabeth Raines Page B

will. I’ll find a way.” On that promise, Izzie closed her eyes again, letting sleep drift over her like a warm blanket.

Chapter 9

    Izzie scanned the crowd, wishing the faces were all revealed to her instead of hiding behind an archaic tradition. In her years of working in law enforcement, she’d learned to read facial expressions so well that she could spot a person’s intentions in something as simple as the way they pursed their lips. Yet all she saw in the sea of people were veils hiding half of the faces she needed to read. Why didn’t men ever realize just how dangerous women could be? Couldn’t they see that letting them conceal their features wasn’t keeping women in line, but it might be allowing them to hide evil intentions?
    The royal family had again gathered at Caldrion’s city circle for Kamala’s second go-round at her hadiadas. Since she was standing next to Jayce and the rest of his family, Izzie honored the rules by wearing a wenora and a veil, but she wanted the damned things gone. They blocked her vision and made her so unbearably warm, she felt nauseous. Her own fault for eating such a big breakfast and then working her stomach into a churning mass as she worried about Jayce and how vulnerable he’d be in front of such a large crowd and about how Damian might be the one to be wounded protecting Jayce from attack.
    She’d thought long and hard about leaving the despised garments behind, but she’d acquiesced, especially because she’d be violating Bromondi law if she appeared barefaced in public. How would it look to have the crown prince’s fiancée so publicly thumb her nose at tradition? Jayce needed her support right now, and she needed to focus on finding threats, not arguing with people over what she was or wasn’t wearing.
    Izzie knew better than to try to talk Jayce out of coming to the hadiadas . He’d felt awful about forgetting Kamala’s big day the first time. Even though she wanted nothing more than to keep him and Damian under lock and key, she knew better than to even suggest it. Her guys weren’t the kind to stay out of the mix, even if it meant they put themselves in the line of fire.
    The crowd pressed forward as the king strode to the middle of the stage. He held up the black wenora and veil he would be putting on his daughter. The women were as silent as stones. The only voices ringing in the air were masculine cheers, and they rapidly dwindled into an eerie quiet when the women didn’t join in. Izzie let her gaze wander from woman to woman, taking in narrowed eyes that seemed angry at what was happening. She smiled under her own hated veil.
    The women had spoken louder with their silence than they ever could with their voices raised.
    As Steraph handed the veil to Charisa, Kamala stared at her—the mother and daughter sharing a tender smile. The king draped the wenora over Kamala’s blonde hair, tugging the ends under the chin and fastening the button to hold it in place. Charisa handed him the lacy veil. He fastened it to the wenora on the left temple and gently covered the young woman’s beautiful face, leaving only blue eyes for anyone to see.
    A loud, angry shout rose from the women in the crowd, and moving in sync, every one of them yanked their veils and wenoras off and dropped them on the ground. Then they began to chant, “No more! No more! No more!” The noise rose until it became an undeniable edict.
    Izzie almost cheered but feared how that reaction could hurt Jayce. She did, however, jerk off her own coverings, including her stifling robe, and dropped them in front of her. It took all her self-control not to dance a little jig on top of them. She grinned in satisfaction at Damian, who nodded in return.
    As she turned to tell Jayce this would be the last time she ever wore a robe, wenora, and veil in public, she caught a man drawing a pulse pistol from inside his vest. Everything suddenly seemed to slow down for Izzie as if she was watching a