“Secure,” Venn assured him.
“Fates,” Mark breathed. They all turned to look at him, but Mark stared right at Bennick. “You jumped off the roof to save us.”
“I did.” Bennick swallowed, shifting on his knees. “Are you all right?”
Mark nodded, still looking a little awed.
Gavril burst into the alley. He was limping a little and his eyes were frantic. “Clare? Bennick?”
“They’re fine,” Venn said, coming to his feet. “So am I, in case you were worried.”
Gavril paled at the sight of Clare’s bloody arm.
“It’s nothing,” she assured him. “The attacker missed.”
“Mostly,” Venn said.
Bennick shot him a glare. “Not amusing.” He focused back on Gavril. “Coordinate with the city guard. I want any surviving attackers rounded up immediately.”
Gavril bobbed his head and hurried away.
Mark’s eyes were still on Bennick as he eased forward. “You’re going to Mortise too, aren’t you?”
Bennick half-nodded, wincing as his head must have flared with pain. Still, his voice was kind as he answered Mark. “I am.”
Mark pursed his lips, but that couldn’t hide the slight tremble. “Will you keep Clare safe?” It was a plea, and Clare’s heart burned.
Bennick’s focus was entirely on the small boy as he sank to his knees and took Mark’s hand in his. Promise throbbed in his serious voice. “I give you my word—I’ll protect her and bring her back to you.”
Mark’s chin wavered and he jerked out a nod. Then he turned and wrapped his arms around Clare, his voice muffled against her middle as he said, “I love you.”
Clare swallowed hard and held him tightly, her eyes finding Bennick’s, brimming with wordless thanks. “I love you too, Mark,” she whispered.
Chapter 28
Clare
“No, like this.” Bennick stepped closer, making Clare feel like they were alone in the far corner of the training field. It was an overcast day, but that hadn’t kept soldiers from training. Still, they seemed far away—especially when Bennick touched her.
He curled his hand over hers, helping her form a fist. He tapped the first two knuckles. “These are the ones you need to lead with, then make sure you give the punch the full power of your body.” His fingers went up her arm, past the slight bump around her upper arm, where she still wore a bandage after the attack at the orphanage two days ago. His hand went all the way to her shoulder. “Right now you’re pushing from here, but that’s not enough.” His hand glanced down her side, tapping against her stomach. “The power needs to come from here.
It was hard to concentrate on Bennick’s words—his light touches stole all her attention.
“Let me show you.” He stepped behind her, his hand cupping her waist. Her body sparked and heat spread through her veins when his hard chest brushed her back. He set his hands against her hips, his palms heating through her dress. “Throw the punch again, but slowly. Feel what happens with the muscles in your body.”
She complied, careful not to overextend her arm. As she moved her fist forward, Bennick twisted her hips to follow her movement. The muscles over her abdomen rolled, adding a strength that hadn’t been in her punch before.
His warm breath fanned her temple and she could feel the hardness of his body against her softness. She’d seen enough shirtless men on the training field to know what shape those hard lines beneath his uniform made, and her cheeks heated. She could feel his heart pounding hard and fast against her back. Fates, was he as affected by this as she was?
Something had shifted between them. Perhaps it was the gentle kiss he’d brushed against her cheek the night of the ball. Maybe it had something to do with what had happened at the orphanage; him bringing her family to her, or how he’d knelt before Mark with all the seriousness of a soldier swearing fealty to a king and promised to keep her safe. But even if Clare couldn’t verbalize what it was, she relished the thrill that shot through her.
Bennick released her and stepped away.
Clare shook out her arms, wincing as she pulled the tender wound.
He caught her flash of pain and frowned. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” The graze from the crossbow bolt was a muted throb unless she stretched her arm too far.
Bennick’s frown remained, though it was slight. “I think that’s enough for today. We should get in some extra riding so you can be ready for Fury.”
Clare cringed. She was barely comfortable riding Jinn; facing Serene’s spirited mare shot anxiety through her. But Bennick was right. They had just under five weeks before they’d leave on the tour to Mortise and Clare would be expected to ride Fury several times throughout the journey.
She fell into step beside Bennick as they crossed the field, heading toward the stable. “How’s your mother?” she asked. She’d paid the lady a brief visit as Serene the other day, just to check on her after the ball.
“A little better.”
Something edged Bennick’s tone, and she studied his guarded profile. “Is something wrong?”
His eyebrows drew together. “No.” She gave him a look and he seemed to realize he was frowning. The corners of his lips pulled deeper. “Sorry. It’s nothing.”
“Bennick . . .”
He swallowed, his throat bobbing as he glanced away. “I never got the chance to ask . . . While you sat with her at the ball, did she talk about my father?” Wariness sharpened his question and Clare’s heartbeat quickened.
“She did, a little.”
When Clare said no more, Bennick looked at her. “You can ask me anything.”
There was a strange mix of resignation and openness in his low voice. It caused an ache inside her and her words came out muted. “Did your father hurt you when you were young?”
Bennick’s jaw locked, a muscle thrumming in his hard cheek. But he didn’t seem surprised by the question.
