None of the merriment seemed to touch Gavril. He occasionally quirked a partial smile at something Venn said, but he sat with shoulders hunched as he nursed his mug. The burns on his face and neck garnered more stares in the common room than Bennick had expected, and if he noticed the stares, Gavril certainly must.
When they’d been younger, Gavril had often acted in the role of an older brother to Bennick. He’d ridden with him, sparred with him; even though four years separated them, Gavril had gone out of his way at the academy to make sure Bennick settled in. Gavril had always been soft-spoken, but quick to laugh. Now the laughter, the softness—it was gone. Stripped away in a horrible instant that had taken everything from him.
“You know something I do know about Zennorians?” Venn asked, breaking into Bennick’s thoughts.
Cardon sighed. “I think you’re about to tell me.”
Venn snatched up his long black ponytail and dragged it above his head so they could all see it. “Did you know a Zennorian warrior wears his hair long in times of peace and shaves his head for war?”
“I did not,” Cardon said carefully, mouth twitching.
“It’s true!” Venn threw his ponytail down. “My sisters wanted me to shave my head when I entered the academy.”
“Why didn’t you?” Bennick asked.
Venn had two sisters, one older and one younger, both married and living in Iden near their mother, Zoya, one of the kindest people Bennick had ever met. Venn’s father, a Devendran soldier, had died in battle when Venn was only two years old. But even though Venn’s life hadn’t been perfect, Bennick couldn’t help but think him lucky; Bennick’s family was far more fractured, even though his parents were still living.
Venn snorted. “My mother said if I entered the academy with the intent to make war, I couldn’t go. So I kept my hair long, and I always will, even though she rolls her eyes at me.”
“You mean because she rolls her eyes at you,” Gavril said dryly.
Venn laughed and Bennick and Cardon chuckled.
Gavril’s thin smile flashed, disappearing too quickly. But it had been there.
Bennick leaned back, the wooden chair creaking under his weight. “Maybe I’ll slip up in practice and rid you of your long locks.”
Venn gasped. “You wouldn’t!”
“I can’t have my men care too much about their hair.”
“You’re just jealous.” Venn straightened suddenly. “Let’s talk about Clare.”
Bennick shot a pointed look at Gavril, who was taking another sip from his mug.
Venn rolled his eyes, silent communication that clearly said, I won’t tell him she’s the decoy—I’m not that drunk! While Gavril was trusted, the king didn’t want any of the palace guardsmen to know about the decoy. Venn cleared his throat. “You certainly watch her closely, Bennick.”
Cardon cracked a smile. “You do stare at her.”
Bennick’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“Please,” Venn thrust out a hand and looked to the other men at the table. “He’s never paid so much attention to one of the princess’s maids. You’ve all seen it. Personally, I’m quite interested.”
Bennick frowned. “Venn—”
“He has a point,” Cardon said, lifting his mug toward his lips.
“Thank you!” Venn’s hands thumped the table, drawing looks from surrounding patrons. “What do you intend to do about it, Bennick?”
His hands fisted below the table. “Nothing. Our positions make it impossible.” The stare he sent Cardon and Venn communicated what he couldn’t say in front of Gavril: Clare was the decoy. There could never be anything between them. The king would not allow it.
Gavril thumbed the handle of his mug, his voice low. “When you have feelings for a woman, they don’t go away.” His words quieted them all, even Venn.
The muscles in Bennick’s neck tightened. Gavril never talked of Bonnai, his dead wife. It was a subject none of them broached.
Gavril’s shoulders rolled inward as he peered at Bennick, the lamplight catching the purple-red burn marring his face. “If you care for Clare, you need to tell her. If she feels the same, you’ll make things work. But don’t wait. Life is not as lasting as it seems.”
The night was half gone by the time they returned to the castle. Gavril walked toward his barracks and Venn, Cardon, and Bennick entered the castle through a side door, their boots echoing in the empty corridor.
“I think the night was good for Gavril,” Cardon said.
Bennick nodded. “We should do it again.”
Murmurs of agreement went up. The castle was quiet at this late hour. Guards nodded to them as they passed, but even the servants were mostly abed. When the corridor split, Bennick took a left toward the royal wing.
“Where are you going?” Venn asked. He and Cardon halted, studying him in the dim light.
“Just checking in with Wilf,” Bennick said. It was a captain’s duty. It had nothing to do with the fact that Wilf was guarding Clare.
Venn and Cardon exchanged a knowing look.
Bennick rolled his eyes and turned away, but he heard them trail after him. A few moments later they reached the top of the staircase and entered the long corridor outside the princess’s rooms. Wilf stood at the door with two palace guards, and all three of them looked up as Bennick and the others approached.
Wilf grunted, his thick arms folded over his broad chest. “I figured you’d all be passed out drunk by now.”
“No,” Venn answered smoothly. “We’re not you.”
Wilf growled.
Bennick glanced at the closed door. He caught the faint glow of light spilling from the crack underneath and his brow furrowed. “Has
