Royal Decoy (Fate of Eyrinthia Book 1)

by Heather Frost

  “I’m more of a guide than a guard,” Venn clarified, oblivious to her deep thoughts. “The castle is a bit of a maze. Easy to get lost. And Bennick insisted someone be with you at all times.”

  “I see.” Perhaps Bennick had realized she’d tried to escape yesterday and he wanted to make sure she wasn’t given another opportunity.

  Venn shifted his weight. “I’m on my second shift without rotation, so forgive me if I nod off. Especially during your meeting with the royal librarian. He’s extraordinarily boring.”

  Her mouth twitched despite herself. “I’ll forgive your sleeping if you don’t tell anyone if I start snoring.”

  He smiled, but his eyes shone with gentle understanding. “It can be difficult sleeping in a new place. But I’m sure you’ll become comfortable here.”

  “Of course.” Unless death caught her first.

  Venn turned toward the door. “If you’re ready, we—” He straightened when he spotted Vera, who had remained tucked behind the open door. “Miss Smallwood! I didn’t notice you before.”

  The girl blushed and fingered her gray skirt, not meeting his gaze. She hadn’t been nearly as flustered in the presence of the prince. “Hello, Sir Grannard.” Cheeks flaming, she shot a look at Clare, swallowing so hard it was almost a gulp. “You’d better hurry. Serene won’t want to be kept waiting.”

  Though Clare was curious about Vera’s reaction to the handsome soldier, she spared her new friend and said nothing as she and Venn left the room.

  They made their way down the hall and into the narrow passage Clare and the commander had used last night. As they walked, Venn pointed out different passages and explained where each hall led.

  “How long have you been the princess’s bodyguard?” she asked when he paused for breath. He was clearly close to Bennick’s age, yet he seemed more youthful.

  “About two years. Promoted when I was seventeen.” He tossed a grin over his shoulder. “Youngest royal bodyguard in the history of Devendra. Even Bennick, the prodigy, was a year older.”

  Clare made a quick calculation. Bennick was twenty, then. Definitely young to be the princess’s lead bodyguard. “I had no idea young men were given such high positions,” she said, ghosting her fingers along the stone wall. In the dim lighting, she liked having the grounding touch.

  “Well,” Venn said, “as much as I hate to admit it, I only got the promotion because of Bennick’s recommendation. My own skills ensured my position, but no one would have looked twice at me without his word.”

  “You know Captain Markam well, then?”

  Venn grinned fondly. “We had our first fistfight when we were eleven. Been friends ever since.”

  They entered a wide corridor and Clare spotted Cardon at the end of the hall, standing before a closed door. He looked up at their approach, greeting Clare and then focusing on Venn. “You’re on a double shift too?”

  Venn grunted beside her. “Could be up for a third if Bennick doesn’t figure out some decent rotations.”

  “Well, we’ve got two princesses to protect now.” Cardon said, smiling at Clare. The motion stretched the pale scar on his cheek, but it didn’t detract from the kindness in his expression.

  After the threats and manipulation that had begun her new life as the decoy, she hadn’t expected nearly so much politeness. It struck her then that these guards might not know anything about the coercion that had been used to get her here. Or perhaps they were simply in her same position—regardless of how the king treated her, they had a job to do. But they did not have to be enemies, even if they trapped her as much as they guarded her.

  Cardon was still smiling. “How are you this morning, Miss Ellington?”

  “Please, call me Clare. And I’m quite well, thank you.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He glanced at the closed door beside him. “The princess is already inside, if you’re ready.”

  Clare pulled in a breath and jerked out a nod.

  Cardon leaned in, his voice low. “Don’t let her intimidate you. She’s lost a great deal and doesn’t always make a good first impression.”

  Lost a great deal? The princess had lost her bed. Clare had lost everything but her life—and that would be lost, too, if the rebels had their way.

  Clare stepped into the room, surprised to find not a dining room but a sitting room. Buttery sunlight slanted through a short but wide window, adding vibrancy to a colorfully patterned Zennorian rug covering the floor. Princess Serene sat on the edge of a velvet settee, picking at a crescent roll with slim fingers. A silver breakfast tray rested on the low table before her, laden with colorful fruit, delicate pastries, and a steaming pot of tea.

  The door closed behind Clare, sealing the women alone.

  Serene arched a brow. “Are you going to stand there gaping, or join me?”

  Clare grit her teeth at the princess’s abrasive tone, but she moved to the chair across from Serene, pausing to offer a belated bow.

  The princess grimaced. “Sit down.” As Clare did, Serene set her pastry aside and brushed her fingers over a linen napkin. “Let’s get to the point. I don’t like you. I don’t like the inconvenience of you, or that you’re pretending to be me.”

  Irritation flared, rolling Clare’s hands into fists on her lap. “I’m sorry you feel intruded upon.”

  “You’re stealing my life. How else am I supposed to feel?”

  She bristled. “I’m not stealing your life.” If anything, the princess had stolen hers. “I saved your life in that ambush, remember?”

  Serene arched a dark brow. “Oh, yes. The disheveled kitchen maid. Forgive me, I didn’t recognize you before—you looked too much like me last night. I suppose you want a reward?”

  “No, I—”

  “Or perhaps you think being the decoy is your reward? Maybe you think this position gives you power.”

  There would be no reasoning with her; not when Serene was determined to hate her. Still, Clare tried. “I’m only following the king’s orders. The least you—”

  “Yes, your orders. Let’s talk about them.” She leaned back, shoulders bumping against the settee’s cushion. “You’re my father’s puppet, obviously. His spy as well, I assume?”

  “Spy?”

  The princess’s eyes rolled. “Let’s dispense with the coyness. My father doesn’t trust me to go through with my betrothal to Serjah Desfan, so you’re here to sniff out my intentions like a dutiful mutt.”

  Heat flashed over the back of Clare’s neck. “I’m your decoy. That’s all.”

  “You are a thorn. An annoyance at best and an enemy at worst.”

  “I don’t want to be your enemy.”

  “Of course not. You wish to be my friend. Even as you steal my life. Oh, I don’t hate you for it,” she added, when Clare’s mouth fell open to protest. “If anything, I pity you. I pity anyone foolish enough to be blinded by gold, fine gowns, and pretty promises spoken by a man as brutish as my father.” She quirked a smile. “Do use the word brutish when you relay this conversation to him. I adore the thought of his scowl.”

  Clare’s fingernails dug into her palms, anger tightening her voice. “I already told you, I’m no spy.”

  “If you insist. Now, my father ordered me to get acquainted with you and tell you anything I could think of to make your charade easier. I believe I’ve become as acquainted as I wish to be, so I’ll proceed with his second request.” She leaned forward, her mouth a thin line. “If you want to succeed, stay out of my way.” Serene swept to her feet. “Another piece of advice? If you wish to fool anyone into thinking you’re me, you’d better learn to argue better. You’re quite horrible at it.”

  Clare surged to her feet, only the low table between them. Heat pounded in her cheeks, throbbing hotter with each beat of her heart. “You don’t know me.”

  “I know enough. You’re easily bought and all too eager to plunge headfirst into matters you have no understanding of. You’re either ignorant of the danger or too blinded by gree
d to care. You’ve allied with vipers, and they’ve thrown you into a pit.” She smoothed her hands over her already smooth skirt. “Enjoy breakfast. And don’t worry, it’s already been checked for poisons.”

  Serene strode from the room and slammed the door shut.

  Clare’s morning didn’t improve at the library. Ramus, the royal librarian, was a wiry old man with a stern frown. His small office was littered with books and papers, maps and scrolls. He puffed on a pipe and asked Clare all manner of questions, gauging her knowledge on everything from kingdom geography to the royal genealogy. Then he started in on foreign languages and politics. Nearly three hours passed in that crowded room filled with dust, books, and pipe smoke, and Clare was utterly drained by the time she was dismissed. She would never learn all she needed to. The hopelessness made her head pound.

  She and Venn each carried a stack of books which Ramus had instructed her to read. As they made their way to the princess’s suite, Venn loosed a chuckle.

  “You find something humorous about this?” Clare asked, still irritated by her abbreviated breakfast with the princess, not to mention the degrading experience of being told by Ramus—repeatedly—that she was appallingly ignorant.

  “Just thinking about Ramus. Do you think he’s cross-eyed because of the endless reading, or because he has to spend so much time with himself?”

  She grunted, shifting the books in her aching arms. “I would think the latter.”

  “I don’t envy you this reading.” Venn peeked over his shoulder. “Are you managing all right?”

  “Your stack is twice as high as mine.”

  “But yours is half as tall as you are.”

  She snorted. “You’re not short on wit, are you?”

  He grinned, white teeth flashing against his dark skin. “I’m not short on anything.”

  A laugh burst from her as they stepped into the main hallway, where she saw they were not alone. Her mouth snapped shut.

  Captain Bennick Markam stood before the princess’s room, his fist lifted to knock. He scanned them and quirked a smile. “Been to the library, I see.”

  “Took it with us, more like,” Venn quipped.

  Bennick intercepted them and scooped the books from Clare’s arms, his eyes searching her face. “How are you?”

  She rubbed a hand over her inner elbow, where a particularly sharp-edged book had dug into her skin. Anything to avoid looking at him. “Fine.”

  Her shortness didn’t dissuade him. “Are you sure? Venn can be irritating.”

  “Hey,” Venn protested.

  Just hearing Bennick say the name Venn brought all her annoyance back to the surface. She lifted her head, stared right at him, and smiled thinly. “Oh, no,” she said, gratified that the sudden sweetness in her tone caused wariness to enter his eyes. “Venn has been an absolute delight. Far better than the last Venn I met.”

  The barb had the desired effect. The corner of Bennick’s mouth pulled down. “Is that so?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Undeniably.”

  Venn glanced between them, still clutching his stack of books. “I’m missing something, aren’t I?”

  “Nothing worth recounting,” Clare assured him.

  Bennick’s stubbled jaw flexed. “I’m sorry for any misunderstandings.” He darted a look at Venn and Clare realized her jabs hadn’t been the reason for his sudden tension.

  Venn didn’t know Bennick had used his name. Interesting. It made her wonder what else Bennick was keeping from his friend, because he was clearly keeping secrets.

  She crossed her arms over her chest as she lifted her chin. “I’m sure you are sorry. You should be.”

  Bennick’s forehead lined.

  “Fates.” Venn whistled lowly. “Bennick, I think she’s upset with you.”

  A muscle thrummed in his jaw. “Thanks, Venn.”

  Clare moved around Bennick and yanked open the door, feeling the two men follow her into the princess’s suite.

  Vera glanced up from her sewing. “How was breakfast?”

  “Delightful.”

  “Good,” she said, obviously missing the sarcastic bent of Clare’s response. But then, her eyes were on Venn as he and Bennick deposited the books on a low table.

  Bennick turned to Clare. “We were never properly introduced.” He extended a hand. “I’m Captain Bennick Markam.”

  She eyed his hand, not bothering to take it.

  Bennick’s hand wavered, then dropped.

  She felt a flash of guilt for her rudeness but shoved it away. He might have been one of the guards who spoke in her defense that first night, telling the commander she hadn’t attacked the princess, but he hadn’t defended her against the king’s machinations. He had let the king use her—fates, he’d helped him by shadowing her on her visit home. And though he might have saved her life yesterday, he’d also brought her back to the king, and he’d lied about something as simple as his name—was he even capable of uttering truth? Did he enjoy manipulating her?

  She pursed her lips as she viewed him. “I suppose you’ve come to fetch me for our lesson?”

  His hand fisted at his side. “Yes. We’ll be on the training field and I wanted to escort you.”

  She frowned. “Won’t it be strange for a woman to be seen on the training field?”

  “Not if she’s the princess’s maid. Anyone close to the royal family receives basic defense training and instruction on how to work with the royal bodyguards.”

  She shot a look at Vera, who confirmed this with a nod. Clare sighed, turning back to the young captain. “Venn could have escorted me.”

  “I know.” Bennick didn’t expound, but he turned to Venn. “Walk with us.”

  Venn eyed the tense space between Clare and Bennick. “Is that an order, or are you begging me?”

  Bennick shot him a look. “Venn.”

  His hands flipped up. “All right, all right.” He glanced back at Vera. “Will you say a few kind words at my burial if I’m caught in their clash of wills?”

  Vera’s cheeks pinkened. “Of course.”

  Venn grinned and led the way out. Bennick held back, waiting for Clare to go next. Her shoulders hardened as she strode after Venn. Bennick exhaled slowly as he closed the suite door and fell into step behind her.

  Their footsteps clipped over the stone floor, the only sound between them. They’d gone down two short staircases in the servants’ passage when Venn cleared his throat. “I’m going to assume from this horrible silence that your first impressions yesterday weren’t pleasant.” He shot a look over his shoulder. “I thought you found her in that tavern already unconscious. How could you offend her when she was unconscious?”

  “Venn,” Bennick warned.

  Venn rolled his eyes.

  Clare’s eyes narrowed. So Venn didn’t know Bennick had accompanied her home. She didn’t know exactly what that meant, but she marked it.

  They reached the end of the corridor and Venn pulled open a thick wooden door, greeting the two guards on the other side as he passed.

  Clare blinked at the sharp sunlight as she stepped into the castle yard. She stuck close to Venn as he led her across the grounds. She could see the royal stable in the distance to her right, leaving intricate gardens to fill the space between. The castle yard bustled with activity; servants and nobles alike milled around and barking dogs darted between the crowds.

  To the left was a wide expanse of dirt ringed by grass—clearly the training yard. Men were scattered across it, all of them locked in training. Some were sparring with wooden swords, others with real blades. Some threw daggers at wooden targets while others wrestled, knocking each other to the ground as spectators hooted and jeered. Most were not in uniform, and a great many had shed their shirts, revealing bulging muscles and skin slick with sweat.

  As Venn led them onto the field, the men took notice of Clare. They scanned her small form and a few smiles stretched—some even called out to her. She sped her step, keeping close to Venn’s ba
ck.

  Bennick drew even with her, scanning the waving men with a frown. “They’re harmless, but let me know if they ever bother you.”

  She bristled. “I can handle myself.” She’d been taking care of herself and her brothers for years.

  They reached the far corner of the field where trampled tufts of grass poked through the dirt. This corner was also empty, allowing them privacy to talk and train as they needed.

  Coming to a stop, Venn twisted to face them. “Do you need me to stay and protect you?”

  Bennick scowled. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

  Venn raised an eyebrow at his captain. “I was talking to you.”

  Clare fought a grin.

  Bennick rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine, Venn.”

  “It’s charming you think so.” Venn tipped his head at her. “Clare, it was lovely spending the morning with you.”

  “Likewise, Venn.”

  With a lazy two-fingered salute, Venn sauntered away, leaving Clare and Bennick alone.

  Chapter 9

  Clare

  Silence folded around them as Clare and Bennick stood staring at each other. The energy of the training ground hummed through Clare, grounding her somehow, even though they were alone in their corner. The men on the field laughed and shouted as they trained, the snap of wooden training weapons and grunts of exertion puncturing the air, the sounds wild yet somehow predictable.

  Clare knew all the anger she felt didn’t belong solely to Bennick. The king, the princess, the commander, even Ramus, the librarian who thought she knew nothing—she was upset with them all, and her fury was a slow burn that scorched her entire body. The emotional upheaval in her life had caused tears yesterday, but today she clung to her anger like a shield.