“I know what you did. I saw it! I tended his wounds, and nothing you say will change his pain!”
Bennick shoved a hand in his hair, his face haunted. Seeing his sudden grief didn’t make her feel any better. “I’m sorry.” The words throbbed with remorse. “I’m sorry for what you went through. What he went through. But—”
“It was your job,” she flung at him.
He cringed and she spun away, disgust ripping through her. She made it all of two steps before he snagged her wrist.
Clare reacted exactly as he’d taught her. She slammed back into his chest, taking him off-guard. She elbowed him in the ribs and jerked her captured wrist against the weak point of his thumb and suddenly she was free.
Before she could dart away he threw his arms around her chest, locking her arms down.
But he’d trained her for this position, too. She dropped her weight, and when he stumbled she stomped his booted foot. He grunted, but wasn’t knocked off-balance. She pushed up on her toes and reared her head back, willing to knock her skull against his jaw despite the pain it promised her, but he jerked to the side.
He knew every move she’d make—he’d taught her everything she knew.
But he wasn’t in a position to stop every attack. Even with her arms pinned, she wasn’t helpless. She sank her fingernails into his thighs and he hissed into her hair. “Stop before you hurt yourself.”
That only enraged her more. She dug her nails deeper, pinching his skin through his uniform, dragging a harsh breath out of him. His hold on her flexed, clamping around her elbows. He pulled at her, but her clawed grip didn’t break. “Clare,” he grunted. “You—”
“Let go of me!”
“You need to listen,” he ground out.
“I’ve heard enough—”
“He killed a man!” His shout cut through everything—the air, the struggle—her heart.
Clare stopped thrashing. Blood drained from her face, making her dizzy. She panted for breath, nails still embedded in his legs. “You’re lying.”
Bennick’s mouth was at her ear, quieter now. “I could have had him executed, but I didn’t.”
Her fingers cramped, but she didn’t loosen her grip. “Eliot wouldn’t hurt anybody.”
“He didn’t mean to. It was an accident. He showed up for duty fates-blasted drunk. His partner, a soldier named Ferrell, didn’t want him to get in trouble, so they still went on patrol. Slaton wandered away only an hour into the shift and Farrell alerted another patrol. They searched everywhere, thinking Slaton might have been attacked. They found him in an alleyway, crouched down like he might be hurt. Farrell rushed forward and Slaton whipped around, striking out blindly.”
Clare’s insides churned. No . . .
Pain frayed Bennick’s words. “Farrell had a wife. Two young children. I had to look in their faces and tell them he’d never come home.”
Clare’s eyes pinched closed and she sagged against his chest. Her fingers curled away from his legs, the sharp nails now digging into her palms. “Fates, no.”
Bennick’s arms no longer crushed her—they supported her. “I had no choice. He killed his partner. He didn’t mean to, but he did.” Bennick twisted her in his arms until she faced him, her tears splashing between them. Every muscle in his body was tense as he looked down at her. “Soldiers were demanding his life, but I could see his regret. I couldn’t order his death and I didn’t want to imprison him for life.” His voice roughened. “I swear, I showed the most leniency I could.”
Clare’s breath hitched and she buried her face in his chest. She cried and he held her, one hand cupping the back of her head, his chin brushing her hair. He murmured apologies as his palm rubbed up and down her spine, and every soothing word he spoke stung. Bennick wasn’t the monster she’d imagined from Eliot’s accounting. There never had been a monster. Bennick had saved Eliot’s life. Why hadn’t Eliot told her the truth? Or had his pain, guilt, and regret become so twisted it warped every detail of what had happened?
Eventually, her crying eased. Her fingers knotted in Bennick’s uniform and she pressed her forehead more firmly against his chest. “He never told me.”
Bennick’s chin shifted against the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”
Clare pushed gently away and he let his arms fall. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”
“Don’t apologize. You were defending your brother.”
Her vision blurred with tears. “I wish he would have told me the truth.”
Bennick’s fingertips grazed her unbruised cheek, deftly wiping the tears away. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just searched her face. “What can I do? What do you need?”
She needed the world to stop spinning. Everything she’dknown had been flipped once again. The hate toward Bennickwas gone, leaving a pang of regret and a cloud of pain. Sheneeded space and time to process what he’d told her. Ramus would be waiting for her in the library, but she couldn’t imagine facing a lesson now. “I want to go to my room,” she finally said.
Bennick didn’t offer his arm, but he escorted her up to the princess’s rooms. They didn’t speak until after he’d opened the door for her. Only then did he face her. “I’ll cancel your lessons today.”
She shook her head. “I can’t afford to lose a whole day. At least not riding.”
“I’ll cancel everything else, then.” His throat bobbed. “May I ride with you?”
Clare’s stomach knotted. “I . . .”
Hurt flashed in Bennick’s eyes before he lowered his head with a nod. “I’ll have Venn escort you.” He pivoted on his heel and walked away.
Her voice wouldn’t work to call him back.
Chapter 30
Grayson
Drenched in sweat, Grayson swung his sword at his attacker. The soldier knocked the blade aside with his own but cursed as he stumbled back, arms shaking from the staggering weight of Grayson’s continuous blows.
A week had passed since having tea with Iris in her poison garden, but the tension in his body lingered. Between her threats and
