“I know.” Bennick didn’t expound, but he turned to Venn. “Walk with us.”
Venn eyed the tense space between Clare and Bennick. “Is that an order, or are you begging me?”
Bennick shot him a look. “Venn.”
His hands flipped up. “All right, all right.” He glanced back at Vera. “Will you say a few kind words at my burial if I’m caught in their clash of wills?”
Vera’s cheeks pinkened. “Of course.”
Venn grinned and led the way out. Bennick held back, waiting for Clare to go next. Her shoulders hardened as she strode after Venn. Bennick exhaled slowly as he closed the suite door and fell into step behind her.
Their footsteps clipped over the stone floor, the only sound between them. They’d gone down two short staircases in the servants’ passage when Venn cleared his throat. “I’m going to assume from this horrible silence that your first impressions yesterday weren’t pleasant.” He shot a look over his shoulder. “I thought you found her in that tavern already unconscious. How could you offend her when she was unconscious?”
“Venn,” Bennick warned.
Venn rolled his eyes.
Clare’s eyes narrowed. So Venn didn’t know Bennick had accompanied her home. She didn’t know exactly what that meant, but she marked it.
They reached the end of the corridor and Venn pulled open a thick wooden door, greeting the two guards on the other side as he passed.
Clare blinked at the sharp sunlight as she stepped into the castle yard. She stuck close to Venn as he led her across the grounds. She could see the royal stable in the distance to her right, leaving intricate gardens to fill the space between. The castle yard bustled with activity; servants and nobles alike milled around and barking dogs darted between the crowds.
To the left was a wide expanse of dirt ringed by grass—clearly the training yard. Men were scattered across it, all of them locked in training. Some were sparring with wooden swords, others with real blades. Some threw daggers at wooden targets while others wrestled, knocking each other to the ground as spectators hooted and jeered. Most were not in uniform, and a great many had shed their shirts, revealing bulging muscles and skin slick with sweat.
As Venn led them onto the field, the men took notice of Clare. They scanned her small form and a few smiles stretched—some even called out to her. She sped her step, keeping close to Venn’s back.
Bennick drew even with her, scanning the waving men with a frown. “They’re harmless, but let me know if they ever bother you.”
She bristled. “I can handle myself.” She’d been taking care of herself and her brothers for years.
They reached the far corner of the field where trampled tufts of grass poked through the dirt. This corner was also empty, allowing them privacy to talk and train as they needed.
Coming to a stop, Venn twisted to face them. “Do you need me to stay and protect you?”
Bennick scowled. “I’m not going to hurt her.”
Venn raised an eyebrow at his captain. “I was talking to you.”
Clare fought a grin.
Bennick rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine, Venn.”
“It’s charming you think so.” Venn tipped his head at her. “Clare, it was lovely spending the morning with you.”
“Likewise, Venn.”
With a lazy two-fingered salute, Venn sauntered away, leaving Clare and Bennick alone.
Chapter 9
Clare
Silence folded around them as Clare and Bennick stood staring at each other. The energy of the training ground hummed through Clare, grounding her somehow, even though they were alone in their corner. The men on the field laughed and shouted as they trained, the snap of wooden training weapons and grunts of exertion puncturing the air, the sounds wild yet somehow predictable.
Clare knew all the anger she felt didn’t belong solely to Bennick. The king, the princess, the commander, even Ramus, the librarian who thought she knew nothing—she was upset with them all, and her fury was a slow burn that scorched her entire body. The emotional upheaval in her life had caused tears yesterday, but today she clung to her anger like a shield.
When Bennick opened his mouth, she already knew she was going to cut off whatever explanation he’d prepared. “Miss Ellington—”
“Can we begin the lesson?”
His tense shoulders strained against his uniform, his gaze intent. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about—?”
“Quite sure.”
His brows slammed down. It looked like he was going to argue, but then he placed his hands on his narrow hips, his tone carefully measured. “In the event of an attack, your priority is to stay out of the danger as much as possible. You have guards for a reason—we do your fighting. You never engage in our fight.”
Her jaw firmed. “So if I see someone coming for your back, I let them stab you?”
“Yes.”
She could do that. She also recalled how Serene had acted in the hallway ambush, her knife drawn and looking for a place to enter the fight. Clearly, the princess needed this lesson.
Bennick shifted his weight and elaborated. “If you come into the fight, you’re only going to distract me, or Venn, or whoever is trying to protect you. Then we all die. Fighting is always your last resort. And your last defense—if running or fighting aren’t possible—is to pretend you’re dead. Understood?”
The finality in his voice needled ice through her blood, but Clare nodded.
A shout on the field jerked her attention. A soldier had just hit the ground and he was cursing hotly, rubbing his abdomen while his sparring partner laughed and swung his practice blade through the air.
“Clare?”
Her gaze shot back to Bennick. “What?”
He pursed his lips. “The second thing to remember is focus. You need to concentrate on the moment you’re living. Let everything else go. Third—never freeze. Freeze, and you’re dead.”
There was no warning.
Clare sucked in a breath when Bennick snatched her wrists and pulled her arms forward, his fists making unbreakable manacles. Her heart
