Royal Decoy (Fate of Eyrinthia Book 1)

by Heather Frost

  Bennick’s head snapped up, chest rising. “Clare has nothing to do with this.”

  Cardon leveled a look at him.

  Bennick’s face heated and he looked away. Apple trees lined either side of them, shielding them from view. When he was a child, he’d often lost himself among these trees, playing the long afternoons away. He was lost now, but in a different way.

  “You’ve been avoiding her for days,” Cardon said.

  Bennick ground the end of his staff deeper into the dirt and looked down the straight row of trees. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Have you ever done something, and—even though you had no other choice—you still regret what you did?”

  Cardon met the convoluted question easily. “Yes.”

  Bennick’s fingers tightened on the smooth wooden staff. “How did you come to peace with it?

  Cardon’s forehead creased. “I haven’t. But I know I made the only choice I could have.” His cocked his head. “This isn’t just about Clare, is it?”

  Bennick glanced away from his friend’s gaze.

  Cardon’s voice was quite. “I know you have regrets about your father. And Fates can see he has regrets about you. But you’re not him, Bennick. His flaws aren’t your flaws.”

  The words hit Bennick hard, pinching his throat. All he could do was offer a short nod of thanks.

  Cardon planted the end of his staff on the ground. “One thing I’ve learned is that the worst regrets don’t come from what we said or did. They come from what we didn’t say or do.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what happened between you and Clare, but she misses you. I catch her searching every room she enters and she’s always looking over her shoulder—looking for you.”

  Bennick wanted Cardon’s words to be true, but his stomach clenched. “I did something to someone she loves. Something I can never reverse.” He swallowed, throat bobbing hard. “I don’t know if she’ll be able to forgive me.”

  Cardon shifted his stance on the uneven ground, gripping his staff. “Don’t walk away leaving things unsaid. A man can never make a graver mistake.”

  Bennick huffed a laugh. “You sound as wise as Dirk.”

  “It was bound to happen after all the years we’ve served to-gether.” Cardon hefted his staff, spinning it so it whistled through the air. He stopped the motion almost at once and winced, shaking out his arm. “Promise me you’ll talk to her. I’m getting too old for this level of sparring.”

  Bennick cracked a smile, then clasped Cardon’s free hand. “Thank you.”

  Cardon’s grip flexed and his eyes were intent as he met Ben-nick’s gaze. “You’re not alone, Bennick. Never forget that.”

  A knot swelled in his chest and he tightened his hold on Cardon’s hand. Despite everything wrong with his father, Bennick had found good men he could look up to.

  He would always thank the Fates for that.

  Chapter 34

  Clare

  Clare didn’t dare advance beyond a trot with Fury. The powerful horse snorted and tossed her head often and each step was sharp. Clare’s skin was stained darker and she wore Serene’s riding dress, but Fury still knew she wasn’t the princess. Thank the fates the horse hadn’t decided to throw her.

  By the end of the ride, Master Lank was grinning. He helped her dismount, pride shining in his eyes. “A lovely job, Princess.”

  “Thank you.”

  He took Fury’s reins and they walked into the stable, moving away from the stable hands. “May I ask you something, Clare?” Master Lank asked softly. When she nodded, his question took her off-guard. “What happened between you and Ben?”

  Her stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”

  They entered the shadowed stable and Master Lank shrugged. “You’ve both been out of sorts and he doesn’t escort you to the stable anymore. Have you argued?”

  Clare scuffed her foot against the straw-strewn ground. “There was a misunderstanding. That’s all.”

  Master Lank sighed. “I know it’s not my place, but I can’t watch you both suffer without saying something. I’ve seen too much sadness. My son . . .” Grief swelled in his voice and he glanced away. “I don’t know if Gavril told you, but he used to be stationed along the Mortisian border, near Stills. During some border violence, Mortisians attacked the outpost. His wife, Bonnai, was killed in front of him. His daughter, just three months old, was killed by a fire the Mortisians set. Gavril nearly lost his life trying to save her from the flames. And still he lost her, too.”

  Clare pressed a hand over her mouth, her chest squeezing. “I didn’t know. How terrible. I’m so sorry.”

  Master Lank cleared his throat, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I tell you so you can understand the advice I’ve given him: life isn’t predictable. Tragedies happen, and there are consequences beyond our control. But we choose the people we want close to us. We choose to be lonely, or embraced. Don’t choose loneliness, my dear.” He handed her the reins and bowed before walking out of the stable, disappearing into the sunlight.

  Clare pursed her lips and tugged Fury forward, leading them deeper inside the stable. She found Fury’s stall and set about tending her, as Serene was known to do. She was brushing the animal’s shiny brown coat when a boot scuffed against the floor behind her. She twisted, freezing when she saw Bennick.

  He stood with one hand braced against the frame of the open stall, his throat bobbing once. “I’m sorry I missed watching you ride. Master Lank said you did well.”

  The brush stung her palm, she gripped it so tightly. Seeing him loosened the ache in her chest she’d almost grown accustomed too, even though his presence also made her stomach roll. “How did things go with the commander?”

  Bennick’s jaw tightened. “He won’t bother you again.”

  She wanted details, but it didn’t feel right to ask. The tense set of Bennick’s shoulders assured her she hadn’t been the only topic to rise between father and son. Besides, her breaths were getting shorter the longer they stood together. The air between them was strained, yet also charged, lifting the fine hairs on her body.

  “May I join you?” Bennick asked, an undercurrent running beneath the question.

  “Yes.”

  He eased into the stall and stroked Fury’s nose. The horse nudged his palm, obviously comfortable with him. “How is defense training going?” he asked, moving around Fury to search for another brush.

  I miss you.

  “Quite well,” she said instead.

  Bennick nodded once. “Good.” He didn’t look at her as he lifted a brush and set to work, the large animal standing between them.

  Having him so near, being alone in the closed space of the stall, wreaked havoc on her thoughts, feelings, and body. Her skin felt too tight, her pulse thrummed, and all she could think was how much she wished she hadn’t pushed him away. Perhaps she’d needed time, but now she needed him. She just wasn’t sure what to say—where to start.

  Resting a steadying hand on Fury’s warm back, she pulled the brush down with the other.

  Soft fingers glanced over hers and her eyes shot to Bennick. His hand slid back, held a breath away from her fingertips against the horse’s back. “I’ve missed you, Clare.”

  The softly spoken words warmed her. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  A thin smile crept into place. “You have?”

  Clare nodded, then bit her lower lip. The words began to spill from her. “I’m sorry for how I reacted.”

  He grimaced. “Please don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

  “Yes, I did. I was angry about a lot of things. Angry with myself. And I took it out on you.” She shook her head. “Avoiding you was wrong, I just . . .”

  “I understand,” he said gently. “And if you need space, I can give you that.”

  “I don’t want space from you.” The words were out before she realized their boldness. And though warmth touched her cheeks, she wouldn’t take them back.

  Bennick’s blue eyes spa
rked and he dipped his head, strands of sandy blond hair brushing his forehead. “I can tell Dirk not to worry about training you tomorrow.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He smiled, and an answering grin tugged her lips. Ducking her head, she pulled back her hand and renewed her efforts to brush Fury.

  “Serene!”

  Clare and Bennick twisted to face Ser Amil Havim, who stood at the stall entrance. The Mortisian’s smile spread wide, though an edge lurked in his dark brown eyes.

  “Ser Havim.” Clare inclined her head politely, but kept a grounding hand on Fury’s back. She hadn’t seen the emissary’s son since the ball and she’d rather enjoyed the reprieve.

  “I’m sorry I missed your ride—I would have liked to join you. Would you indulge me with a walk around the garden instead?”

  “No, thank you.”

  His eyebrows lowered. “I only want to talk.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything for us to discuss.”

  Bennick took the brush from Clare’s hand. “I’ll escort you to the castle.” He didn’t look at Amil, but his words were clearly for his benefit.

  “Wait. Please.” Amil took a step forward and Bennick shifted so he was slightly in front of Clare, clearly defensive. Amil glanced at him, but focused on Clare. “I know you must feel wary—”

  “You gave me a poisoned necklace,” she interrupted, tone thin.

  He winced. “I assure you, my father and I had nothing to do with that.”

  “It came from your treasury.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes. “Yes, but it passed through many hands!”

  Bennick spoke firmly. “Step back.”

  The Mortisian darted a look to Clare. “Serene, please—”

  “Now,” Bennick ordered.

  Amil grit his teeth, eyes cutting to Bennick. “You dare address me like that?”

  Bennick didn’t blink. “Yes.”

  Amil’s eyes narrowed, but Clare stepped forward, her fingers brushing Bennick’s arm in a silent request to stay back. He remained an impressive force beside her; she could actually feel the threat of him, ready to spring if Amil even twitched in her direction. She faced Amil, her chin lifting imperiously. “Please leave, Ser Havim. I don’t wish to speak with you.”

  His mouth thinned. “I hope you’ll reconsider our friendship, Serene.”

  “I won’t.”

  Amil’s expression locked. “I see.” He bowed his head, shoulders tight. “Good day, Princess.” He stalked away, a Mortisian guard peeling from the shadows to follow him, his hand on the hilt of his curved sword.

  The muscles in Clare’s neck tightened as she watched Amil leave. She was beginning to wonder if Amil posed an even greater threat than his father.

  Chapter 35

  Grayson

  Mia placed another ucea berry in her mouth. “Thank you for these.”

  “They’re growing everywhere now.” Grayson plucked a red berry from the bowl sitting on the wooden table between them. They had the cell to themselves this morning, since Mama was out. The room was still cool, but the stove wasn’t needed. With summer finally touching Ryden, the dungeon wouldn’t be such an uncomfortable place.

  The back of Grayson’s jaw ached from the tartness of the ucea berries, but Mia kept popping them into her mouth, clearly savoring the tang as she chewed. “Do you know what I miss?” she asked suddenly.

  “What?”

  She folded her arms on the solid square table and leaned forward, drawing Grayson’s full attention. “I miss the days you came back to me not bleeding. Those were good days. Rare, but good.”

  He frowned. “I’m not bleeding.”

  “You were.” Her gaze shifted pointedly to his left cheek.

  The knife wound from Tyrell still ached, even though it was days old. The cut in his arm had been deeper, but both ached with the familiar pain of a knife-wound. The Syalla had burned through his blood for about fifteen eternal minutes, but had faded eventually. “I’m fine,” he assured her.

  “Forgive me if I don’t always believe you.” Her fingers drummed against her bent elbows, her full pink lips pressed together. “Are you still taking something for the pain?” When he didn’t answer, her features pinched. “You didn’t go to a physician, did you?”

  “There wasn’t a need.”

  “Grayson . . .”

  He lowered his voice. “You know how my father is.”

  Mia’s mouth set and she looked away, eyeing the locked door. Her voice was so quiet, he nearly missed her words. “Sometimes I wish I could hurt him as much as he’s hurt you.”

  The muscles in the back of Grayson’s neck jerked. “I never want you near him.” He’d only seen them together once, in this very room, the day Tally had burned.

  “I don’t want to be near him, either,” Mia said. “But I hate how he treats you. How they all treat you.” Her throat constricted in a hard swallow, her eyes drifting back to his newest wound. “I hate that.”

  The loathing in her voice stung him. He ducked his head but she reached across the table and cupped his strained face with both hands. A rich brown curl had escaped the knot at her nape and brushed against her perfect, rounded cheek.

  They were opposite in every way. The realization wasn’t new, but it still hit him like a punch in the gut.

  Mia thumbed his high cheekbones until their gazes locked—cold stone and warm earth. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. I just hate to see you hurt.”

  His jaw flexed beneath her hands. “I know how I look.”

  “You’re the most beautiful part of my world.”

  The words shouldn’t mean anything, but Grayson’s heart tripped. He tensed when her knees bumped his beneath the small table. He shifted in his chair, drawing his legs back, but he couldn’t make himself pull free of her touch.

  “Do you remember the stories I used to tell you about fate-sent guardians?” she asked. “Immortals destined to protect a chosen mortal? I used to think that’s who you were—my guardian. I wasn’t even sure you were real at first, you were that perfect to me.”

  His pulse sped, thudding heavily in his ears.

  Mia hesitated, then her eyes softened. “You’re still perfect, Grayson. You’ll always be perfect to me.” She leaned over the table, the ucea berries forgotten as she used her hands to ease him closer.

  Grayson didn’t breathe. He didn’t think. He did nothing as her lips touched his. Her mouth was soft and hot, gentle but real. She tasted like ucea berries and everything he’d ever wanted. Her satin lips pressed against his mouth and heat shot through his veins.

  Mia was kissing him.

  Shock froze him for a moment, but then reality hit. This was the line he’d sworn to never cross. The one temptation he’d always resisted, because giving in was wrong. Horribly wrong.

  He yanked back, losing her kiss and touch. Thrusting his head aside, he could feel his face burning. His fists clenched uselessly in his lap.

  Mia fell back in her chair, her hands dropping to her lap. “I . . . I’m sorry.” The words rang hoarse.

  Pain swelled his throat. “Don’t.” He couldn’t hear that she regretted the kiss.

  Silence smothered the air between them. A muscle in his temple ticked, exacerbating the ache that throbbed there.

  “It’s all right,” Mia finally whispered.

  It wasn’t. He grit his teeth, having no idea how to apologize to her.

  She swallowed, head ducking as her shoulders rolled in. “I should have realized by now that you don’t . . . care for me that way.”

  Grayson’s eyes cut to her, his stomach clenching. “You—” His tight throat trapped his voice.

  She cringed, her chin still tucked. “I promise I won’t do it again.”

  The words tugged at his core when they came out, too rough and low. “Mia, I love you.”

  She stilled. Her eyes tracked up and he tensed when he saw the moisture veiling her stare. “What?” The single word cracked out of h
er.

  “I love you,” he repeated.

  Mia’s chest rose sharply and her wavering lips pushed together. “Then why . . .?”

  “Because I can’t love you.”

  She flinched, and it broke him.

  Grayson pushed out of his chair and rounded the table. She followed his every movement, turning in her chair so she faced him when he crouched before her. Her fingers were knotted in her pale blue skirt, her knuckles bleached of their brown tone. He folded his gloved hands over hers and raised his head, meeting her gaze. “My father is the one who locked you in here.”

  Her small nose scrunched. “That doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me.”

  “Why?”

  His lungs caught. “You were only a child when he stole your life. How can I take advantage of that?”

  Her chin jutted stubbornly. “You better have a stronger excuse than that, Grayson Kaelin, or I might hit you.”

  His mouth twitched, but the weak smile died almost at once. “I’m not good, Mia.”

  Her hands twisted beneath his, suddenly gripping his fingers. “You’re worthy of love.”

  “I’m not worthy of you.”

  “Is that what you think?” She shook her head, glancing away. “I’m not perfect.” She swallowed hard and her next words came out scratchy—torn. “There are things I’ve done I can never be forgiven for.”

  His hands tightened on hers. His mind flashed back to the confessions she’d cried while under the influence of fever. I’m a killer. He still didn’t believe it, but clearly she did. “You were a child,” he argued quietly. “There’s nothing you could have done—”

  “Stop.” She blinked through her growing emotion, shaking her head. “That doesn’t matter. You’re what matters. Every time you chose to follow your father’s orders, you chose life. I can never think less of you for that, no matter what you had to do. You’ve survived, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Her voice caught. “I can’t live in a world without you.”