Her body shook and she planted her forehead against his chest, sagging against him. His hand wrapped around the back of her head, holding her there against his drumming heart.
Bennick lifted his chin. “I’ve never heard of an Ogai spider. How did you know it, Wilf?”
The bedding stopped flying as Wilf finished his search. “I saw my share while fighting in Mortise,” he said, his voice a low rumble that filled the room. “It was long ago, but the Ogai is hard to forget.”
Clare shuddered. Fates, how would she ever sleep in this bed again?
“Someone tried to kill Serene with demon spiders from Mortise.” Venn’s swallow was audible. “Where would one even find them in Devendra?”
“The shadow markets,” Wilf said at once. “You can buy anything in Lower Iden if you know who to ask.”
Bennick eased back from Clare, fingers brushing her wet cheek, prompting her to look up. “Go with Vera. We’ll search the entire room.”
Clare finally noticed Vera standing inside the room, her blonde braid resting over her shoulder. The maid’s eyes were locked on Wilf, who stood beside the bed, dagger lifted, the second spider still skewered on his blade. Clare’s belly lurched, but it wasn’t the dead spider that chilled her blood. It was the feral gleam in Wilf’s eyes.
“Clare?”
Her gaze flew to Bennick. Concern bled from him but she managed to pull away from his comforting hold. “I’m fine,” she whispered, though fates knew she wasn’t.
His eyebrows drew together but he didn’t question her. She slid past him, grateful to reach Vera, who wrapped an arm around her back and helped draw her from the bedroom.
They sat on the settee in the sitting room, a single lamp glowing in the dark. Clare pulled her feet up, knees pressed against her chest. Her toes curled into the cushion, safe off the floor, and a tremor shook her. Her thoughts—which had been consumed by the terror of the spiders—were now racing. Tripping.
Bennick, Wilf, and Venn spoke in low tones in the other room, their words an indistinguishable murmur.
Vera’s face was pale in the semi-darkness. “First the Night Sigh, now this—how is someone getting so close?”
Clare’s fingernails bit into her palms. “Wilf said the spiders are from Mortise.”
“Night Sigh is, too,” Vera murmured. “Do you think that’s a coincidence?”
Clare’s lips pursed. “Wilf knew about the spiders and he wasn’t afraid to kill them.”
“Wilf isn’t afraid of anything,” the maid snorted.
Clare’s expression didn’t change. Her thoughts were no longer jumbled, but perfectly clear.
Vera saw the steadiness in Clare’s eyes and read the thoughts there. Her features pinched. “You think Wilf had something to do with this?”
Clare swallowed past the dryness in her throat. “As a guard he has access to the room. He was on duty when the Night Sigh was brought in. And he seemed to know where to purchase those spiders.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” she protested softly. “Wilf is a trusted bodyguard!”
“Doesn’t he make you uneasy?”
“Of course! He’s terrifying. But he’s no traitor.”
Ice needled through Clare’s veins. “He doesn’t want the alliance.”
“He’s not alone in that,” Vera pointed out. “People are fighting in the streets about it.”
“But he’s unstable—volatile. I watched him attack Bennick, Venn, and Cardon on the training field.” Not to mention she still clearly remembered the fury in his gaze as he’d strangled her the night she’d saved Serene’s life.
What if Wilf’s anger hadn’t been because he thought Clare was one of the assassins, but because she’d saved Serene’s life? What if Wilf had been allied with the assassins? Would he go that far to stop the peace? Did his hatred run that deep?
Vera shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense. Wilf can’t be trying to kill Serene—he knows you were the one in that bed.”
She nodded slowly. “You’re right. But if I die and he can frame Mortise, then the peace is ruined. And he wouldn’t even have to sacrifice Serene to do it. Just me.”
“You’re forgetting something,” Vera said.
“What?”
Vera eyed her. “Bennick trusts Wilf. Don’t you trust Bennick?”
“Of course I trust Bennick. But I know what Wilf means to him. He may not see things clearly.”
“And you do?” she asked.
Clare had no answer. Adrenaline still spiked through her and she wasn’t sure if it sharpened her thoughts or made her jump at shadows.
But when Bennick and the others stepped out of the bedroom, declaring it safe, Clare couldn’t ignore the prickle that rushed over her skin when her stare connected with Wilf’s.
Something dark lived in his eyes, and it stared back at her.
Chapter 22
Eliot
The Thorn was packed tonight. People swarmed the common room, voices booming, and music poured from the musicians in the corner. There were no empty tables, so Eliot stood against the back wall. With the King’s Ball set for tomorrow night, the whole city was in a festive mood.
Eliot couldn’t fight his scowl as Michael, his best friend, went to grab them drinks at the crowded bar. He’d been scowling since he’d received the letter from Clare, each word pounding inside his skull. Snatches of it repeated constantly. I’m doing well. The princess’s bodyguards have my confidence.
Eliot didn’t trust anyone to keep Clare safe in that den of vipers—certainly not the princess’s lead bodyguard, Markam.
Don’t worry. I’m safe.
She wasn’t safe. Eliot knew the danger anyone close to the princess faced. Fates, the same day Clare had left to live at the castle, Eliot had learned about an attack on a royal carriage. He’d known it was the carriage that had taken her away. He’d quizzed his captain in the city guard until he’d learned that a castle maid had been involved in the attack, but that she had escaped with her life.
Eliot hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Michael asked, his voice rising over the din.
Eliot straightened and accepted the offered
