Royal Spy (Fate of Eyrinthia Book 2)

by Heather Frost

  Desfan blinked, surprised by the unexpected question. “Yes. Why?”

  “He inventoried the olcain that was recovered at the warehouse. I went and recounted this morning.”

  Ah. Desfan’s expression relaxed into a neutral state. “Did you?”

  Karim stared Desfan down. When the silence stretched, he stalked around him and started opening drawers in his small desk.

  Desfan crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the nearest sandstone pillar. “Can I help you find something?” he asked mildly.

  Karim ignored him, just continued pulling out drawers. He even checked the hidden compartment in the middle drawer. When the thorough search of the desk yielded nothing, he moved for the bedroom. Desfan thrust his hands into his pockets and followed at a leisurely pace. By the time he entered the room, Karim had already jerked open the top drawer of his dresser and was rummaging inside.

  “You could ask me, you know.”

  Nothing from Karim. After another moment of searching, he grunted, slammed the top drawer closed, and jerked open the next.

  Desfan sighed. “You’re working yourself up for nothing.”

  Karim punched the drawer closed and rounded on him, his eyes narrowed. “Tell me there is no olcain in this room.”

  Desfan’s silence was answer enough.

  His hands fisted. “You promised.”

  “I’m not taking olcain anymore.”

  Karim’s eyes flashed angrily. “Then why did you steal two pouches of it from the kiv’s storage room?”

  Desfan strode to his nightstand and slid open the top drawer. When he straightened, he had two pouches of white powder in his palm. He tossed them to Karim, who snatched them from the air.

  “Both are full,” Desfan said. “I haven’t taken any drugs since that night.”

  The night he’d nearly died from taking too much. Karim had saved his life and he’d secured a promise that Desfan had not broken. Would never break.

  Karim’s throat bobbed and he looked up to meet Desfan’s eye. “Then why steal these?”

  “Someone in Duvan is expecting that olcain. We only caught some of the smugglers, and they didn’t know who sold the olcain, or who bought it. But with a few well-placed questions in the city, we could find the answers to both.”

  There was a beat of silence. “You planned to disguise yourself, walk the streets, and sell stolen olcain?”

  “If it helps, I was going to invite you.”

  Karim closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he pushed out a breath. “Do you want everyone in Duvan to take a stab at you? The council isn’t enough, you want to incite drug masters as well?”

  “I have a bad feeling about this olcain.” Desfan shook his head. “It’s dangerous, and the last thing I need is this flooding the streets. And I can’t help but think the timing is significant.”

  Karim frowned. “You think this could be one of the other kingdoms trying to weaken us?”

  “With my father ill and my attempts to forge peace with Devendra, Mortise is more vulnerable than ever. There is unrest in the city and protests tearing across the country. My gut tells me the olcain is a weapon wielded by an enemy who wants to see how far I can be pushed. It will drain Mortise of gold, hurt our trade with the increased security searches, and the worst part? It could be anyone in Ryden, Zennor, Devendra . . . or even Mortise.”

  Karim sighed. “Where do we start?” As ever, his loyalty was undisputed.

  “I’ve asked Arcas to search for Ori, the boy who was at the warehouse during the raid. He is connected somehow—an enemy to those who ran the warehouse, clearly, so he might be willing to work with me for protection.”

  “You expect the kiv to find that waif? Duvan is full of orphan boys.”

  “True, but Ori has a tattoo. Hopefully that will help lead us to him, since he’s probably affiliated with a gang.”

  “Wonderful,” he muttered.

  “Then of course there’s the part of the plan where I come in.”

  “I hate it already.”

  Desfan grinned. “I have some old contacts in the drug trade . . .”

  Karim grunted. “Isn’t that just fates-blasted perfect.”

  Chapter 13

  Clare

  Clare spun and delivered a kick to Bennick’s knee. He grunted with the impact, his leg nearly buckling, but she didn’t have a moment to celebrate the good hit. His wooden knife sliced toward her and she ducked, breathing hard.

  Lord and Lady Winsel’s garden made a perfect training ground. The grassy area past the flower gardens was flat, with surrounding trees and bushes offering privacy. If anyone thought it odd that the princess would practice defensive training with her bodyguard, they didn’t say anything.

  Wilf and Venn were out of view, watching the entrance to the area. They were prepared to ward off the talkative Lady Winsel, who had rarely left Clare’s side.

  They had been here for two days, and Clare struggled to focus on anything other than the fact that the rebels had her brother. The frustration of not being able to do anything, and the fear that he might already be dead, made it hard to be patient or kind when Lady Winsel refused to give her a moment of privacy. She thought that might have been why Bennick had carved out time for their training. He knew what weighed on her mind, because she had told him everything.

  She had decided to tell Bennick about Eliot’s capture even while she’d stood in that alley in Tarvin. The rebels had ordered her to silence, but holding that note in her hands, staring at her brother’s words . . . she knew it was too much to handle on her own. She didn’t need to handle it on her own, because for the first time in years, she had people she could rely on. And working with Bennick, rather than against him, would give her an advantage when it came to saving her brother’s life.

  She hadn’t said anything to Cardon while in Tarvin, for fear of alerting the rebels, in case they were watching her. But as soon as they returned to Lady Rendell’s, Clare had searched out Bennick.

  Something in her eyes must have shown him how urgent the matter was, because he had immediately asked Venn to take his place outside the tea room, where Serene and Lady Rendell were visiting. Clare wasn’t really surprised when Cardon followed her. The man had been eyeing her the whole ride back to Lady Rendell’s estate, his instincts clearly calling that something was wrong. Wilf, who had been standing guard with Dirk, also followed them into Lady Rendell’s library. And there, Clare had pulled out Eliot’s note and handed it to Bennick.

  His blue eyes scanned the words, his jaw tightening. When he looked up at her, his gaze burned. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  She did—without any mention of James or Serene’s letter, of course. When she explained how the rebel had dragged her into the alley, Bennick’s eyes flared.

  “Are you all right?” he demanded.

  Her chest felt tight and her eyes stung, the fear of that moment rushing back. “He didn’t hurt me,” she said. But she touched her aching cheek and Bennick’s gaze narrowed.

  He stepped closer and brushed strands of hair away, his fingertips running over the tender area. His shoulders stiffened. “He struck you?”

  “Not exactly.” She told him that she hadn’t managed to get a good look at his face because he had held her against the wall.

  Bennick’s expression hardened. “What did he say?”

  Clare swallowed hard, her words coming out in a rush. Bennick listened, silently passing Eliot’s letter to Cardon and Wilf to look over.

  When she finished, Wilf asked, “Can you confirm this is your brother’s handwriting?”

  She nodded.

  Cardon glanced up from the page, the skin around his eyes tight. “You didn’t tell me what happened because they may have been watching.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “Fates, I’m the one who’s sorry.” His brow creased. “I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

  Guilt threaded through her, but she bit her tongue. She couldn�
�t admit that she’d intentionally slipped away.

  Bennick looked to Cardon. “Where was Venn?”

  “With Vera.” Cardon winced. “I let him be distracted. We’re both to blame.”

  Clare’s cheeks flushed. “No, it was my fault for wandering.”

  “Assigning blame is useless,” Wilf said, waving the letter. “This is also useless. The rebels probably killed your brother the moment he signed it.”

  Pain knifed through her. “I have to believe he’s alive.” She turned to Bennick. “Please, you have to help me find him—without raising any suspicions. The rebels can’t guess that I’ve told you anything.”

  Bennick’s brows lowered, his blue eyes flashing with too many emotions to name.

  “Where would we even start?” Cardon asked. “They have no headquarters, at least that we know of.”

  “And we can’t send Tarvin’s city guard in search of this rebel, because we have no description,” Wilf added.

  “I’ll write to my father,” Bennick finally said. “He can start an investigation into Eliot’s disappearance. It won’t alert the rebels, because it would not be uncommon for the commander to be involved if a city guard member is missing.”

  “Eliot has a friend in the guard.” Clare spread a hand over her forehead, wracking her brain. “Fates, I can’t remember his name . . . But perhaps he knows something.”

  “I’m sure my father will question all of Eliot’s acquaintances.” Bennick blew out his breath. “The bit of good news is that our ploy is working. The rebels don’t know Serene has been taking a different route.”

  “True.” Wilf frowned. “Do you think any of the other maids will be targeted?”

  Bennick shook his head. “No. They picked Clare because she’s new.” His lips pressed together. “I’ll ask my father to increase the guard on Thomas and Mark.”

  Ice shot through her veins. “Do you think they’re in danger?”

  “I don’t know. But I would rather be overly cautious.” His eyes grew more serious. “The rebels will attempt to contact you again. You need to promise that if they manage to slip past us, you will come immediately to me—even if you feel it will put Eliot in danger.”

  Her stomach twisted, but she nodded. “I promise.”

  Two days later, and her insides were still in knots. But as she dodged Bennick’s attempt to grab her arm, she was grateful for the distraction of training, as well as the physical exertion. The chance to be alone with Bennick was an additional reward, though the longer they trained in Lady Winsel’s private garden, the more she wished they could simply talk. An idea had been churning in her mind, and she had not yet had an opportunity to share it. Though, in all honesty, she didn’t think Bennick would like it.

  She kicked at his shin and he took the hit as he stalked toward her, the training knife held low and tight to his body, ready to stab her.

  Her ribs hurt where he’d managed to land strikes throughout the training session. Thank the fates she’d managed to stab him a couple times, too. But she was clearly missing the more regular training she’d had at the castle—it had taken most of this training session for her to relax and fall back on her training.

  Bennick slowly circled her, his wooden knife held at the ready. She kept her knees slightly bent as she slowly pivoted to keep him in her center vision. “I’ve been thinking,” she said.

  “About what?”

  “Eliot.”

  The skin around Bennick’s eyes tightened, though he continued to circle her. “Anything in particular?”

  “I think there’s a way to help him, rather than simply rely on the commander’s investigation.” She leaped back, evading his strike, and managed to catch his arm with the tip of her mock blade.

  He eyed her. “Go on.”

  She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “Well, I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day. That it’s good the rebels don’t know about Serene taking another path. It gave me an idea. We could set a trap for them. When they reach out, they’ll clearly want me to betray the princess—and I can, without ever risking her. I can—”

  “No.” His voice made the word wholly final.

  Her grip on the wooden knife clenched. “Serene would never be in danger. I can be the bait.”

  “No,” he repeated.

  “But—”

  “Risking your life is unacceptable.” Tension bracketed his mouth. “You’re the decoy, Clare. Deliberately putting yourself in danger would be the same as betraying Serene—it would be treason in the king’s eyes.”

  “It wouldn’t be the same thing. Not exactly. And if we could set a trap for them, then we would have a much better chance at saving Eliot.”

  Bennick shifted back a step, their gazes level. “I don’t know how else to say this, but no. I’m not risking your life.”

  Frustration rolled up her throat, making her words come out tight. “I can’t just do nothing. This is my brother’s life.”

  “I understand that, but I’m trying to keep you alive. That is my job.”

  “And Eliot means nothing?”

  True bafflement sparked in Bennick’s eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Your history is messy,” she pointed out, her tone sharp.

  Before Bennick had become the captain of the princess’s guard, he’d been a captain in the city guard. In a horrible, drunken accident, Eliot had killed his partner, and Bennick had been responsible for deciding his punishment. He had personally flogged him, rather than sentence him to death.

  Bennick drew back from Clare. “I won’t deny that Eliot and I have a complicated past, but that has nothing to do with this.”

  “Are you sure?” she shot back.

  “Yes,” he said firmly. “Your brother might hate me for what happened—he certainly blames me—but I have no malice toward him. The only reason I refuse to use you as bait is because I’m trying to keep you alive. That is my priority. You will always be my priority. And Eliot would agree with me on this.”

  She didn’t drop her stare, but her eyes suddenly stung. Shame for lashing out at him, fear for her brother—they swam inside her, sapping the fight out of her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, shoulders slumping.

  Bennick said nothing for a short moment. Then he spoke, his voice quiet. “You’re worried about your brother. I understand.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not just that. I have to help him. This is my fault.”

  His forehead creased. “Nothing about this is your fault.”

  “The rebels targeted him because of me. Because of my proximity to the princess. How is that not my fault?”

  He stepped forward, one hand settling on her shoulder. “Don’t take this on yourself. You’re not to blame.”

  She wanted to believe him. And maybe there was a part of her that did. But the knot remained in her stomach and she blinked back tears. “We argued. Eliot and I . . . Our last conversation was an argument. He told me it was too dangerous. He begged me to leave the castle. I couldn’t, but he didn’t know that. He believes I ignored him, and now . . . they tortured him.”

  Bennick squeezed her shoulder. “No matter what, Eliot loves you. He wouldn’t want you to feel this guilt. And he wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger, either.”

  “But if we could safely lay a trap for them . . . would you consider it?”

  His shoulders fell as he expelled a slow breath. “Capturing them won’t necessarily save your brother.”

  “I know. I know he could already be dead, but . . . I can’t just do nothing. Please understand.”

  “I do. And I promise, if there’s a way to lay a trap for the rebels without endangering you, I’ll consider it.” His eyes sharpened. “But you have to promise not to do anything without me. We will do this together, or not at all.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him in for a tight embrace. “Thank you,” she breathed against his strong chest.

  His arms locked around her, his head d
ucked by her ear. “I have your word, then?”

  “Yes.”

  When they finally pulled apart, she felt steadier than she had in days. “Thank you,” she said again. “Not just for this, but for writing to your father. I know how hard it is to ask him for help.”

  The corner of Bennick’s mouth lifted. “Well, when it comes to you, I think I’m capable of anything.” He nodded to the wooden blade in her hand. “Let’s test your offensive skills, then we’ll go back to the garrote.”

  Clare’s sore body wanted to refuse, but she ignored that and lunged. Bennick dodged the training blade, but kept striking. He did not make things easy for her, and she appreciated that. She had been in enough dangerous situations to know that an attacker would not make things easy for her. Besides, it gave her deeper satisfaction when she did manage to hit him.

  They spun and twisted around each other on the grass, and Clare saw a perfect opening. She kicked out, aiming for his unguarded middle, but Bennick snatched hold of her ankle and jerked her off-balance. Her arms swung out, strangling her wooden knife as she fought the pull to topple.

  Bennick still held her ankle and he smiled as she hopped on one foot to keep her balance. “You should definitely approach all attackers like this. You are utterly disarming.”

  She exhaled sharply, wisps of loose hair fluttering around her flushed face. “And you’re utterly annoying.”

  His features softened as he continued to view her. “On second thought, I want to keep this image for myself.”

  Pleasure spread warmth through her chest. “Clearly, you’re also ridiculous.”

  He grinned. His hold was firm, but still managed to be gentle.

  She arched a brow, very much like Serene. “Are you going to let go?”

  His head tipped to one side, blue eyes calculating as he studied her. “Maybe. For a price.”

  His flirtation sparked tingles all over her body, tightening her flushed skin. “What price?”

  His fingers flexed around her ankle as he leaned in, his voice dropping. “A kiss.”