“It wasn’t important for you to know.”
“It’s important to me.” Leaving her family to live in the castle had been hard enough, but to leave for another kingdom . . . Her hands fisted at her sides. “I never agreed to leave Devendra.”
“You agreed to do whatever the king orders, Miss Ellington.” His tone was stern, brooking no argument.
They climbed two flights of stairs and eventually stepped into a wide corridor, abandoning the narrow hallway. As they neared a guarded suite, Clare heard the princess’s unmistakable voice ringing against the stone walls. “I won’t stand for it! I draw the line here, Bridget! You will hand over my pillows or I will scream until I pass out!”
Bridget’s voice rose. “My lady, your father ordered the rooms to remain untouched. Only your most private things should be moved to your new chambers, to keep from raising suspicions. It’s for your safety.”
“That imposter will not sleep with my pillows!”
Bennick stood outside the open door, hands clasped behind his back. He turned at their approach, his stubbled jaw tensing briefly. He dipped his head. “Miss Ellington.”
She looked pointedly past him and into the princess’s open chamber. The main room was spacious and bustling with maids making final preparations to move the princess. Serene still argued loudly with Bridget.
Behind Clare, the commander grunted. “I don’t think the king would appreciate the shout she’s using to complain about his great secret.”
“No,” Bennick said. “I doubt he would.”
Princess Serene noticed her audience. She immediately stopped her rant, snatched up a large pillow that had fallen—or more likely been thrown—and marched forward. She stopped in front of Clare, who did her best not to cringe back. “Don’t you dare go through my things.” Without awaiting a reply, Serene swept past and Bridget hurried after her, toting a large bag stuffed to the brim with clothing and anything else the princess had deemed necessary to remove from the room.
Bennick poked his head into the suite, his tone mild. “Cardon, remain with the room. I’ll send Wilf to relieve you soon.”
Clare was surprised when she recognized the guard he spoke to. He’d been there during the hallway ambush. The long scar on his cheek stretched as he cast her a short smile before nodding to Bennick. “Good luck with the princess, Captain.”
Clare startled at the title. Bennick was too young to be the captain of the princess’s guard. The scarred guard—Cardon—was probably ten years his senior. How was Bennick his superior?
Nothing about the blue-eyed guard made sense, she decided. Nothing.
Bennick twisted to go, but paused when he noticed Clare watching him. Fates, when had she started staring? He cleared his throat. “How’s your head, Miss Ellington?”
She gave him a flat stare, shooting venom into her tone. “Well enough, Captain.”
A muscle in his cheek jumped.
“Bennick!” The princess’s shout rang down the hall.
Bennick straightened, eyes still fixed on Clare. “I’m relieved to hear that, Miss Ellington. I hope you sleep well.” He inclined his head before striding after the princess.
The commander took his leave as well and Clare stepped into the princess’s suite. It was similar in design to the commander’s apartment, but more elaborate and decidedly feminine. The main area was dominated by a fireplace, a low fire crackling inside the hearth and lanterns glowing along the walls. A settee and some arm chairs gathered around a low table, creating a cozy center for the room. Flower arrangements and small sculptures artfully dotted the space and fine rugs spread over the stone floor in shades of blue and cream. There were five doors that led to other chambers but only one was open, allowing a glimpse into the bedroom.
Clare realized Cardon was watching her. His eyes and hair were deep brown and his smile caused the pale pink scar on his cheek to wrinkle at the corner. “It’s good to see you again, Miss Ellington. I wanted to thank you for saving the princess’s life last night. It was very brave of you.”
It had been the stupidest thing she’d ever done, but she didn’t tell him that.
Cardon bid her goodnight, assuring her he’d be in the hall if she needed anything. She knew he was really there to make sure she didn’t leave.
Once he was gone, Vera—the kind maid from before—stepped out from the bedroom. She offered Clare a short curtsy. “Miss Ellington.”
“Please. Call me Clare.”
The girl nodded and clasped her hands in front of her. “Since the princess can’t spare another maid, I’m afraid you’re left with only me.”
It was Clare’s first bit of fortune. Out of any of the maids, Vera was the nicest. “I’m relieved to hear it,” she admitted.
Vera smiled, color brushing her cheeks. She helped Clare out of the heavy gown and gently removed the cosmetics from her skin before leading her into the princess’s bedroom. It was large and decorated in silver, cream, and varying shades of purple. The space was scented with lilacs and undeniably beautiful, but when Clare climbed under the covers she struggled to find sleep.
Every nicety in the castle could never soothe the pang of homesickness in her chest.
Chapter 8
Clare
Clare unfolded the sheet of paper carrying the day’s itinerary while Vera twisted her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. Vera’s hands were gentle, but it felt strange having someone else do her hair. Still, the seventeen-year-old maid had looked mildly offended when Clare suggested she do it on her own, so she tried to relax under the girl’s ministrations.
They were in the princess’s dressing room, one of the five rooms that broke off from the main sitting room. There was the princess’s bedroom and a room for the maids, which would only house Vera for the foreseeable future. Another room was a private washroom with a large brass tub and rows upon rows of soaps, lotions, and perfumes. The final room remained closed and locked, and Vera revealed it was the princess’s private study. The locked door
