Royal Spy (Fate of Eyrinthia Book 2)

by Heather Frost

  Serene’s mouth tightened. “We will take him to Duvan to stand trial.”

  “I can accompany you and bear witness to the council of his treason,” Tamar said.

  “Thank you.” Serene turned to the commander. “I would like you to leave several of your men with us, but I want you to return to Iden.”

  The commander’s eyes narrowed. “Very well. And what of the Rose?”

  “I have decided to accept his offer. He will come with us as our prisoner. Serai Nadir should be able to help us gauge his honesty, since she knows most of the people he will be informing us about.”

  The commander glanced at Bennick, who refused to look at him. “Fine,” Commander Markam said. “I will return to Iden with the Mortisian prisoners we were able to recover.”

  “No.” Serene once again looked to Tamar. “I would like to set them free, with you as a witness. Do you have the means of making sure they are helped to their homes?”

  The woman looked a little surprised, but there was relief and joy in her eyes as well. “Of course, Princess. It would be my pleasure. Thank you.”

  The commander blinked. “Forgive me, but we have nothing to gain by doing that.”

  “We have everything to gain,” Serene argued. “By freeing those men, we will show our compassion to all of Eyrinthia.” She then turned to her cousin. “Imara, I strongly suggest you return to Zennor.”

  “No,” the petite princess answered calmly. “I fully intend to look Serjah Desfan Cassian in the eye and know for myself if he deserves you.”

  Serene’s mouth twitched, but her eyes were serious. “That is your final word?”

  The Zennorian princess grinned. “You’re quite stuck with me.”

  Serene’s chest lifted on a breath, and she nodded. “Then our course is decided.”

  Clare stood alone on the quiet balcony that overlooked the grounds of Tamar Nadir’s manor, watching the sun rise. It looked like it always had, a subtle glow that spread over the sky, slowly dispelling the heavy darkness of night. Only this time, she was watching it happen from Mortise.

  The sun warmed her skin, but the dented tin soldier was cool in her hand.

  It hardly seemed real that she was in Mortise. That she had buried her brother yesterday.

  Bennick had pulled Eliot’s body aside so he could be buried in his own grave. It was a kindness she didn’t have the words to thank him for. Bennick and Venn had dug the grave and Wilf, Dirk, and Cardon had helped her and Vera prepare his body.

  She didn’t think she would ever forget what it had felt like, standing beside Eliot’s grave as his wrapped body was lowered inside.

  Bennick had stood beside her, his hand wrapped around hers. His silent strength, the comfort his nearness brought her . . . it was what kept her from feeling like she might float away.

  She had loved her brother, despite everything, just as he had loved her. In the end, despite his many betrayals, he had chosen to save her life. He had known what would happen when he shouted that warning—and he had done it anyway.

  After Eliot’s burial, Bennick had to leave to help prepare for their departure. Wilf had remained with her, just the two of them staring at the freshly covered grave.

  It was strange to think that mere months ago, she had thought this hulking bear of a man might be trying to kill her. Somehow, they had become friends.

  “Death is not easy to understand,” Wilf had said, his low voice softer than she had ever heard it. “Especially when one is taken unexpectedly. But you cannot let the grief overtake you. You can feel it, but don’t let it consume you.”

  “I won’t.” She pursed her lips. “I don’t know what to tell my brothers,” she admitted. “I want to send a letter with the commander, but . . . What can I say to them? He was a traitor.”

  “Tell them he died protecting you. That is the truth, and they don’t need to know the rest.”

  Tears built in her eyes and she slipped her hand in his, feeling the rough calluses on his skin. “Thank you, Wilf,” she whispered.

  He looked startled by the contact, but he did not pull away. And when he squeezed her hand a second later, a smile pulled at her lips.

  Even now, standing on Serai Nadir’s balcony, Clare smiled again as she remembered that moment.

  Footsteps sounded behind her, and her body tightened as Bennick joined her, a physical reaction to his nearness. She wondered if that innate awareness of him would ever go away.

  He came to stand at the stone railing beside her, his eyes sweeping the view. Dawn had washed the trees with shades of yellow, orange, and pink. It made the surrounding forest seem otherworldly. “Were you able to sleep?” he asked.

  “A little. You?”

  He nodded, but she wasn’t sure she believed him. The purple shadows under his eyes were dark and he looked worn. “We’ll be ready to leave within the hour,” he said. “Serai Nadir will catch up with us in a couple of days. She wants to make sure the Mortisian prisoners are taken care of first.”

  “I like her.”

  “So do I.” He squinted toward the sprawling forest they would have to pass through. “Traveling together is the right decision,” he said, almost to himself. “Sending Serene on an alternate path, splitting our forces . . . It wouldn’t be wise. Serai Nadir has reviewed our stops, and we’ve made a few adjustments. I don’t care if it offends Desfan or upsets Newlan. We’ll only be staying with nobles Serai Nadir recommends.”

  “And we’ll be following the Rose’s advice as well,” Clare added quietly.

  Bennick’s jaw tightened. “Yes.” He glanced at her closed fist. “What do you have there?”

  She was sure he was trying to distract her, but she opened her hand anyway, revealing the toy soldier.

  A fleeting smile crossed Bennick’s face. “Mark would be glad to know you still carry it.”

  “It’s a piece of home.” The corner of her mouth lifted slowly. “It also makes me think of you.”

  He grunted, studying the chipped paint. “We’re both battered, I suppose.”

  She shook her head. “You may not be perfect, Bennick Markam, but you’re perfect for me.”

  He didn’t respond, and his gaze dropped.

  Clare felt a tug low in her stomach. “Something is bothering you,” she said quietly. “You haven’t been yourself since Wexon.”

  Since he’d interrogated the Rose.

  Tension bunched his shoulders, and she expected him to deny it.

  He didn’t.

  “I learned something about my father,” he said, the dawn outlining his strong profile. His throat worked, as if he had to force the words out. “It’s his fault, Clare. All of it. The reason the Rose hates me, why he specifically targeted you . . . It’s all his fault.”

  Her forehead creased. “I don’t understand. How is it his fault?”

  His jaw locked, his eyes on the horizon.

  Clare touched his arm, her voice soft. “You can tell me anything, Bennick.”

  He twisted toward her, his eyes shadowed, his expression almost sick. “The Rose is his son.”

  Clare could only stare, her breath frozen in her lungs. The words were impossible. Horrible.

  Bennick shoved a hand through his hair, his short laugh brittle. “Fates, it sounds insane, doesn’t it? The Rose and I share blood. He’s my half-brother. And my father knew the truth the entire time and didn’t tell me.”

  Her fingers tightened on his arm. “Bennick, I . . . I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t need to be sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. You have enough on your mind.”

  She increased the pressure on his arm, forcing him to face her. She met his gaze, her jaw set. “I love you, Bennick Markam. That means I’m always with you. No matter what comes, we face it together.”

  He swallowed, his fingers catching hers. “I spoke with Serene this morning.”

  The unexpected words threw her. “What did you talk about?”

  The skin around his
eyes tightened. “You returning to Iden.”

  She blinked. “I don’t understand. Why would I go back? I’m needed here. I’m the decoy.”

  “I know. But if you wanted to go back and mourn Eliot’s death with your family . . .” Bennick’s hand flexed around hers. “I can send Wilf and Dirk with you. My father isn’t far ahead—you can catch up to him easily. We’ll make it look like Serene is returning to Iden by using you as a decoy.”

  Her chest felt too tight. “Would that protect Serene? My going back?”

  “It might, for a while.” His brow furrowed. “But I don’t want you to think about her. I want you to make this decision for you. The king won’t release you from your oath, but you would be safe.”

  “Safer than here, with you?”

  A muscle throbbed in his cheek. “Yes.”

  Her heart pounded. “It seems you’ve thought this through.”

  “I have. Do you wish to go?”

  “Do you want me to go?”

  He stared at her, face nearly expressionless, it was so carefully blank. “What I want is irrelevant.”

  Her eyes did not leave his as she eased closer, their chests brushing. His breath caught, and her heart tripped. “I disagree,” she said quietly.

  His blue eyes were serious. “I don’t want you to feel trapped. Fates know you haven’t had enough choices, but I can give you this one.”

  “I rather love you for that,” she whispered.

  Tension bracketed his mouth. “Will you go, then?”

  Clare studied his face before shaking her head. “No. I want to help protect Serene. I want this alliance with Mortise to succeed. I need there to be peace, so Thomas and Mark don’t have to grow up afraid. I will see this through. With you.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m always with you, remember?”

  He searched her face, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t even breathing. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  He reached out with his free hand, his fingers sweeping back a lock of brown hair from her temple. He looped it behind her ear and then his palm cupped her cheek. Her heart thrilled when he dropped his chin and pressed his mouth to hers.

  His kiss helped to calm every storm in her heart, and she knew she would always love him.

  In the chaos of her ever-changing world, he was one thing that remained absolute.

  Clare’s head rested against the rocking carriage. She wasn’t asleep, but her eyes were closed and she let the conversation drift around her. Serene and Imara sat side by side across from her, and Clare knew without looking that Serene wore a maid’s dress. Clare had foregone the crown, but even her traveling gown was fine enough to mark her as the princess. Even though they traveled together, she still needed to be the decoy. The target.

  Vera sat next to her, and she had also been quiet for the past several minutes.

  Outside the carriage, horses snorted and soldiers spoke to each other, some even joking.

  Clare didn’t enjoy riding horses, but she wished she could be out there with Bennick. Even if it meant she might be within sight of the Rose.

  Fates, she still couldn’t believe they shared blood. In the end, it didn’t mean anything. Bennick was the best man Clare had ever known, and his character was unmarred by his relation to the Rose. But she knew it troubled him.

  The carriage rolled to a halt, and Clare opened her eyes. A peek through the curtains proved that they were still deep in the Mortisian forest.

  “What’s going on?” Imara asked, ending her earlier conversation with Serene. “Why are we stopping?”

  “I don’t know. It’s too soon to set up camp.” Serene frowned, then reached to push open the carriage door.

  She didn’t get far. Cardon was there, his hand out to stop her descent. “Stay inside, please.”

  Serene frowned. “What’s going on?”

  “A tree fell over the road. We can’t go around, and the road is too narrow to turn around. It will take us a little time to move it.” He looked back toward the front of their procession, and his eyes suddenly narrowed. His shoulders tensed. “Get back inside.”

  Unease wavered in Clare’s gut.

  Serene’s eyebrows lowered. “Why? What—”

  “In the trees!” Bennick’s shout boomed a second before the first volley of arrows hit the carriage, the soldiers, the horses.

  The animals shrieked in pain and men screamed. Clare heard Bennick yell orders, heard swords being drawn.

  Cardon shoved Serene inside, slamming the door closed and sealing them in. Serene grabbed the handle with a curse, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Clare jerked and Vera cried out when the next round of arrows slammed into the carriage. One shot through the curtained window, shattering glass.

  Serene growled. “We’ll all be killed if we stay here.” She turned back to the door and thudded her fist against it. “Cardon!”

  Clare’s heart thundered in her chest, and she could feel the blood drain from her face when she heard the yells of men, the clash of swords—the enemy was on the ground with them now.

  Serene muttered a curse and pounded the door again. She nearly fell when it was wrenched open. Cardon’s expression was fierce, and he grabbed Serene’s arm and hauled her to him. “Dirk brought the horses,” he gritted out. “You ride with me.”

  “But—”

  Locked in the shelter of Cardon’s arms, Serene was dragged away from the carriage, her words left unspoken.

  Wilf took his place at once. He grabbed Clare, lifting her like she weighed nothing. Worry cut through her—he hadn’t fully healed since his stabbing—but as he crushed her to him and carried her away from the carriage, she had a bigger concern. “Vera!”

  “Dirk will get her,” Wilf said, his voice rough.

  Clare managed a peek around his shoulder and saw that Imara’s bodyguards were already grabbing her, and that Dirk was waiting beside them, ready to grab Vera.

  Her heart pounded as she took in the rest of the chaos that she managed to see. Bodies and arrows littered the ground. “Bennick?” she gasped.

  “He’s fine,” Wilf growled, tightening his hold on her. “Stay in my arms.”

  He wasn’t really giving her a choice. His hold was crushing, and he was hunched over her. She didn’t notice any more arrows flying. Was it because they were fighting on the ground now, or because they’d already managed to kill most of their attackers?

  Her stomach heaved when she saw a soldier on the ground, riddled with several arrows. His eyes were vacant.

  Beside him, Zephan also lay dead, the Mortisian traitor’s hands still bound.

  Panic gripped her. Fates, where was the Rose?

  They reached the horses. Cardon shoved Serene onto the nearest one and then he swung up behind her and gathered the reins. With little urging, the horse bolted down the road, hooves pounding up clouds of dust as they headed back toward Serai Nadir’s manor.

  Wilf threw Clare into the saddle and she scrambled in her long skirts to find her seat as he jumped on behind her. The poor horse let out a protest at the combined weight, but Wilf ignored that as he shoved the reins into Clare’s hands. “Steer us up the road,” he ordered, the rasp of steel announcing the draw of his sword.

  Clare kicked the horse forward, her grip on the reins too tight as the horse shot forward. She gripped hard with her knees, desperate to keep her seat as she bounced along with the animal’s fast gait. Throwing a glance over her shoulder and past Wilf’s hulking mass, she saw Vera alone on a horse, quickly gaining on Clare.

  Imara was on her horse, one of her guards riding behind her to protect her back. The other Zennorian guard remained with Dirk, the two of them turning to face the attackers who rushed toward them, screaming at each other in Mortisian.

  Stop her! Get the princess!

  They wore no uniforms, but it was clearly a well-organized trap.

  Heart in her throat, Clare searched through the fighting, past the abandoned carriage. Her heart nearly stopped
when she finally caught sight of Bennick and Venn on the road, fighting together to keep the attackers at bay.

  They were outnumbered, fighting three men each. And there weren’t enough Devendran soldiers left standing.

  Wilf’s chest was hard behind her, and his sword caught the light as he swung the blade, striking out at an attacker who lunged for them.

  The horse threw its head and stumbled, trying to jerk away from the enemy.

  Then suddenly Wilf was gone, dragged off the horse by one of the attackers.

  Clare cried out his name and fought to keep her seat on the stomping horse, but Wilf was already rolling to his feet, his sword swinging in a wide arc that kept his attacker back.

  The horse continued to sidestep, and Clare could not pull him into submission. His eyes were rolling, his head tossing as he nearly hit into one of the trees.

  The branches swayed, then snapped, and Clare screamed as one of the archers dropped from the leafy canopy and landed behind her on the horse.

  Fear exploded in her chest and Clare tried to shove him off, but one steely arm clamped around her chest, pinning her arms and pulling her close against him.

  His horrible voice rasped in her ear, “Got you, Princess.” He jerked the reins from her and wheeled the horse around.

  Clare struggled, desperate to get away, not caring if she fell off the panicked horse.

  Wilf roared like an enraged bear, fighting the men that blocked his way to her. And beyond him, Clare spotted Bennick in the same moment he spun and caught sight of her.

  Even from this distance, she could see the fury flare in his eyes.

  The man behind her whistled sharply, a trilling sound that pierced through the sounds of battle.

  It needed no interpretation. It was a call to finish. A call to retreat. They had gotten what they came for.

  At least, they thought they had.

  They thought she was Serene. This was an abduction.

  “No!” Venn’s gutted shout jerked Clare’s attention, and fear blasted through her when she saw one of the Mortisian attackers had also gotten onto Vera’s horse. Though the girl screamed and struggled, the man held her fast as he galloped for the trees.

  Venn bolted after her, but there was no way he would reach her. Not before she disappeared into the forest.