“I think he came here with knowledge of the decoy,” Bennick finally said. “My instincts are screaming that he knew, and he hoped to find Serene here, thinking you would be at the dedication.”
Ice filled her veins at the thought. If Newlan hadn’t insisted that Serene be present at the dedication so a true royal could consecrate the new road, Serene would have been here. The Rose would have found her.
“When the Rose didn’t find her, he settled for sending a message using Ivonne.” His gaze met hers, his jaw tight. “Could James be the Rose?”
Shock jolted through her. “No.” The thought had not occurred to her, but was easy to dismiss. Serene trusted him, and his devotion to the princess was clear.
“Are you certain? He showed up here, knowing about an attack, and he was last seen with Ivonne. When we return, he’s gone, and everyone else was killed.”
“It wasn’t James. Trust me.”
Bennick let out a slow breath. “I trust you.” He spread a hand over his eyes, rubbing gently. “I hate all of this. What happened to Ivonne. The Rose knowing your name—targeting you specifically. The fact that your brother knows you’re the decoy, and he’s probably already told his leaders. And then there’s the prisoner exchange, and Rydenic princes in Mortise.” He shook his head, his hand dropping. “It just feels like we’re rushing toward something bad. I want to ignore all of it and just get you and Serene somewhere safe. I wish I could rush you to Duvan.”
“Newlan wouldn’t want that. It would look weak. Like we’re afraid.” Appearances were more important to the king than avoiding the increased dangers of traveling slowly, with plenty of publicized stops.
There was a moment of silence between them, their hands still joined on the table. Clare smoothed her free hand over his tense arm. “You need sleep,” she whispered.
His fingers tightened around hers, his voice low and raw. “I don’t know if I can close my eyes. If you had stayed here today . . .”
She brushed her thumb over his, cresting the knuckle in a gentle stroke. “I know.” She’d considered the same. She, Ivonne, and Vera may all have been killed. Or perhaps they would have stood a better chance. Wilf would have been here, and she couldn’t imagine anyone—not even the Rose—getting past someone so fierce.
Bennick dragged in a shaking breath, his free hand moving to rub his ducked brow. “Clare, if I’d opened that door and seen you on that bed—”
“Don’t.” She squeezed his hand. “It didn’t happen. And what happened to Ivonne . . . Fates, I can hardly believe any of this is real.”
He dropped his hand back to the table, his fingers curling into a fist. “We’ll catch him. I promise you, he’ll pay for what he did.”
There was a momentary pause, a silence that pulled them closer together. Bennick’s voice was pitched low when he finally spoke. “Does James know you’re the decoy?”
Her throat was tight as she lied. “No. He just knew I was the princess’s maid.”
“How did he know about the mercenaries?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he mention anything else to you? Anything else he might know?”
“No.” She eyed him. “I promise you, James is not an enemy to Serene.”
“Who is he to you?”
Finally, she understood the intensity in his low voice. Her face softened. “He’s only a friend.” And he clearly had feelings for Serene, which—judging from the widow’s braid hidden in her hair—the princess seemed to return.
Bennick dipped his head, acknowledging the words. But she had a feeling he still didn’t entirely believe her. Or perhaps he still thought James made a good candidate for the Rose.
He shoved the assassin’s note into his pocket and stood, pulling her gently to her feet. “We both need sleep if we’re going to face tomorrow.”
They walked closely together to the stairs, their shoulders brushing as they went. When they reached the base of the stairs, Clare tugged him to a stop, her fingers tight around his. His eyes dropped to her, a question in his gaze.
She leaned forward, rising on her toes so she could press a soft kiss against his lips. It was a simple kiss, a reassurance for them both in this dark moment, but when she eased back, Bennick’s gaze was warm, his breath heated. “Thank you,” he whispered, his expression full of awe, appreciation, and . . . love.
Left unable to speak, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. He buried his face in the curve between her neck and shoulder, his arms banded around her.
And even though shadows pressed in around them, all she felt was warmth and peace.
Ivonne was buried in a cemetery near the outskirts of Halbrook. Clare stood beside Vera, who clutched a bouquet of white daisies they had picked while the gravediggers prepared the spot.
The burial service was short and the grave marker simple. Serene had commissioned a more elaborate stone marker, which would be laid later. The princess had also offered Vera a chance to return to Iden, but Vera declined. She had no family to return to, and Clare understood her need to be kept busy.
While Vera knelt to arrange the wildflowers on her sister’s grave, Serene drifted to Clare’s side. “Would you walk with me a moment?”
She fell into step beside the princess, conscious of Bennick and Cardon shadowing them at a distance that afforded them privacy to talk. They tread over the soft grass, their black skirts too warm in the summer sun as they made their way to the back edge of the quiet cemetery.
“Thank you,” the princess said quietly. “For protecting James as you did. Claiming he was a friend of yours was smart. My brother, especially, would have been suspicious if you hadn’t spoken up so quickly.”
“He might already be suspicious.” Clare hurried to tell Serene about her private meeting with Grandeur a week ago, in Lindon.
If Serene were surprised by his increased paranoia, she didn’t show it. “Pushing him to his breaking point will take less effort than I thought. I’ll have to consider the best way to use his frustration and suspicions to the best advantage.”
For her part, Clare was just grateful he had already left. Ivonne’s death had delayed him, but he had still departed the inn last night. He was anxious to reach Lythe.
A part of her wondered if he was just anxious to be away from the tour. It was certainly a dangerous place to be.
Clare glanced over at Serene. “I know I probably don’t have a right to ask, but who is James really? How did he know about the mercenaries?”
Serene exhaled slowly. “I’m afraid my answer will only require more discretion on your part.”
“Do you love him?”
She drew up short. From the corner of her eye, Clare saw Cardon and Bennick also stop, keeping their watchful distance. Serene stared at her, shock in her gaze. “James is a friend. Only a friend.”
“Serene, you aren’t known for trusting people, but James seems to know everything about you. You told him about me, and he told me that you mean everything to him.”
She blinked. “He did?”
“Yes.” Now that she was talking, she couldn’t seem to stop. “You gave him a detailed outline of your alternate route, and when you learned he’d been wounded, I could see how worried you were. And then there is your widow’s braid. Is it for him? Is that why you’re hesitant to marry Desfan?”
The princess opened her mouth and promptly closed it. It took a long moment before she finally cleared her throat. “I may be slightly apprehensive about marrying Desfan, but that’s because he is a stranger. He could be an ally or an enemy. Frankly, he hasn’t been in court long enough for me to know anything about his political ideals or his aspirations, but I hope to determine what sort of man he is once I arrive in Mortise. Regardless, I will marry him, because that is what is best for Devendra. And though I can see how you would construe my connection to James as something romantic, I assure you, I do not love him, nor does he love me.” She started walking again, forcing Clare to move to keep pace
with her.
The princess’s voice remained low. “That is all I can say, unless I have your promise that you will never speak of this to anyone else.”
Curiosity rose within her. “You already have my promise. I’ve been keeping your secrets since Iden.”
“This is different.”
“I won’t betray you, Serene. I promise, this will stay between us.”
Serene folded her arms over her chest, her head lowering. “I do trust you, Clare. And I’m grateful for your discretion thus far.” She swallowed. “What else did James say to you?”
“He warned me about the mercenaries. He said someone on the Mortisian council hired them. He wasn’t sure, but he thought it was someone called Zephan. He also said he had men in the crowd, and that they would try to help you if something happened, but that they didn’t know about the threat.” Clare eyed the woman beside her. “James is not a simple farmer.”
“No, he’s not. He is one of the key captains of a rebellion against my father.”
Clare stopped walking. “He’s a rebel? A rebel captain?”
Serene twisted to face her. “Yes.”
“But . . . the rebels are trying to kill you.”
“There is a faction of rebels who want me dead, yes. But James is part of another faction.” She arched a brow. “And if you think that’s surprising, I can’t wait to tell you who the rebel leader is.”
Somehow, she already knew, but that didn’t keep the shock from her voice. “You’re the leader of the rebels?”
“You didn’t think I was crafting plans of retribution against my father and brother without actual help to see them through?”
Honestly, Clare didn’t know what to think. She shook her head. “You’re the leader of a rebellion.”
“Yes. James is one of the most senior leaders in my rebel force.” They began walking again, and Serene kept her voice measured so her words would remain too quiet for Bennick and Cardon to catch. “Both factions are remnants of the civil war that happened ten years ago. Both groups want to see my father dethroned. The big difference is, the rebels who are trying to kill me—the group your brother joined—don’t care who they hurt, how much damage they cause. They don’t have a plan for who will sit on the throne. They want revenge, anarchy, and chaos. The event that sparked their increase in violence was my betrothal to Desfan. They see an alliance with Mortise as the ultimate betrayal. Their primary target shifted in that moment from my father, to me. If I’m dead, there is no alliance. Then they can tear down my father, or start a war with Mortise. While I want my father off the throne, I do not want my kingdom ravaged by needless bloodshed and war. And I’d prefer to still be breathing in the end. That is what my rebels are fighting for. We will kill, but only if it is strictly necessary. We don’t want war with Mortise, we want peace. And we don’t want to destroy Devendra—we merely want to take my father’s crown, so we can heal the damage he has caused.”
Clare’s head was reeling with Serene’s revelations—the sheer scope of the princess’s plan. Back in Iden, when Serene had taken her into her confidence, she had no idea how far-reaching her plans were. How many people were involved already. She had a whole network of rebels, all of them dedicated to overthrowing Newlan and placing Serene on the throne. Devendra’s first ruling queen.
Serene glanced back, a small smile flickering into place. “I think Cardon and Bennick are getting curious—they’re inching closer.”
Clare glanced over her shoulder, a prickle of guilt rising as she saw Bennick.
We’re stronger together. No secrets.
She shook her head, focusing back on Serene. “Why didn’t you tell me about the rebellion?”
“It was one thing for you to learn the truth about my mother and decide to spy on my brother. Quite another matter to join a rebellion. I didn’t want to force you.” She lowered her voice even further. “Besides, not many in the rebellion even know I’m the leader. It’s safer that way—for them and for me.”
“When did you form this rebellion? In Zennor?”
“That’s where I got the idea, yes. After learning the truth about my mother’s murder, I wanted to go to my uncle and tell him everything. But if I would have gone to him, he would have declared war on Devendra. He loved his sister that much. I couldn’t risk it. The bloodshed would have been too much, and my mother would not have wanted that done in her name. So I began plotting a better way to ensure my father and Grandeur paid for their sins, without killing innocents in the process. I needed help—especially when another rebellion rose and began hurting people.”
“How did James learn about the mercenaries? Is he a spy?”
“Among other things. Before I left Iden, I asked him to look into threats that may come from Mortise. Clearly, he found one. Someone on the Mortisian council wants me dead badly enough that they would hire mercenaries—which don’t come cheaply—and they want me killed before I can even reach Mortise. Probably because they don’t want my death traced back to them. I will need to learn more about Zephan. I trust James will be looking for further proof of the councilman’s guilt as well.”
Serene looked once more to Clare, her expression almost wistful. “In Zennor, I saw what it was to lead a people with kindness, humility, and respect. My uncle is the kind of king who truly serves his people. My father governs as if he’s afraid his people will turn against him again. He imposes taxes people struggle to pay, he punishes even a hint of disobedience as if it were full-on treason, and he focuses on making friendships with his nobles. As if by making the rich richer, and the poor poorer, he thinks to keep balance somehow. All he’s done is give bloodthirsty rebels more reason to want revenge.
“I do not want Devendra ruled by his iron hand. I want a kingdom that flourishes, and I want that even more than I want revenge for my mother’s murder. Which is why I’ve taken these last three years to build a network of allies who will help me remove my father and brother from the castle. I will have justice for my mother, but I will also make sure Devendra is protected. I will not have things devolve into war—not if I can help it.”
She looked at Clare. “I know you will keep this confidential. You’ve proven yourself. I’m sorry you were put into a position where you had to handle messages for James, because the contents were treasonous. That was unfair of me. But I’m asking you now: would you consider joining me?”
“You mean, become a rebel?”
“Yes. I would value your help and opinions, and you’re in a unique position. As you pretend to be me, there are things you might hear and see that I would never know unless you told me. As my spy, you would be invaluable to the cause.”
Clare hesitated. So many of the things Serene had said sounded right. The future she painted for Devendra looked beautiful, and she agreed with what Serene was trying to accomplish. But this would be a line she could not uncross. Rebellion against Newlan, if discovered, would lead to her death—just like rebellion had led to her father’s death. Where would that leave Thomas and Mark? And what about Bennick?
While she had already agreed to spy on Grandeur, Serene was right—this decision was bigger. Her current spying only pertained to the prince, and aligning with Serene helped protect her family. Choosing to spy for the rebel cause was another matter entirely.
This was a choice that would alter her life forever. She couldn’t make this decision on a whim. And choosing to become a rebel without telling Bennick . . . That seemed wrong.
“You don’t have to say yes,” Serene said. “And you can take time to think it over before giving me your answer. It’s not a small thing I’m asking. I do feel that I can say that many of those in my network are servants, commoners—the people powerful men like my father tend to overlook. The people who work hard every day to provide for their families and want peace for their kingdom. Those are exactly the type of people who will actually manage to change the world. I feel you fit in with them perfectly.”
“I will continue to guard your sec
rets,” Clare said. “But I don’t know if I can become one of your rebels. If I was discovered, my brothers would be in terrible danger. I don’t know if I can risk them.”
“I understand. And if you change your mind, you have only to tell me. But if we succeed, you won’t have to worry about the safety of your brothers again. They will be safe from my father and my brother, and they will live in a Devendra that knows peace.”
“Thank you,” Clare whispered. “Not just for that, but . . . for what you’re daring to do.”
Serene looked toward the blue sky above them. “That means a great deal to me. As does your friendship. Thank you.”
Her heart tugged, because somehow—as impossible as it had seemed in the beginning—the princess had become her friend. And in times such as these, friends meant everything.
Chapter 35
Mia
Mia jerked from sleep, her heart pounding. She wasn’t sure what had awoken her. The room was dark and the door to Mama and Papa’s room was closed. Everything was silent. It was the middle of the night.
There was a muffled thump against the outer cell door and Mia clutched the neck of her thick nightgown to her throat.
There was a rough, barking order, and then the key rattled into place.
Her stomach dropped and she lunged for the dark lamp at her bedside, gripping it in both hands. It could be a weapon. She kicked her blankets aside and slipped off the bed, her feet hitting the cold stone floor with a jarring thump.
She thought about crying out, but Papa and Mama had drunk heavily before going to bed. They wouldn’t hear her. And obviously the night guard would be no help, because he was unlocking the door for whoever was coming.
The door swung open and a tall, dark form staggered inside, one hand flashing out to brace against the wall.
Mia clutched her lamp and blinked against the torchlight coming from the hall, but too soon the door closed, plunging the cell into darkness.
Heavy breathing came from the shadow near the wall. “Mia?”
Royal Spy (Fate of Eyrinthia Book 2) Page 33