Intrigue sparked in his eyes as he took the paper, his long, warm fingers brushing hers. He flipped open the note and scanned the words.
Patience. Your time will come. Be careful.
The scrawled message had been written in Serene’s left hand, giving it an unrefined look. A messy nobleman’s scrawl, or a peasant’s untried hand—it truly was anonymous. “My cousin Imara taught me that,” Serene had said, true affection in her voice. “She’s a master at this sort of thing.”
Grandeur’s eyes narrowed on the written words and Clare swallowed. “It could mean anything,” she said, pouring out the practiced phrases. “It’s vague, and yet . . . I keep thinking of your fears about Serene, and what she might plan for Devendra. I can’t let harm come to my family.” An edge she couldn’t control entered her voice. “I would do anything for them.”
“You did the right thing,” Grander took her hand with his free one. His fingers flexed around hers, dark and strong. When he peered at her, she almost believed his words. “I can protect you and your family, Clare. I can protect all of Devendra. But I need your help.”
Though it wasn’t part of the plan, she couldn’t stop herself from whispering, “Maybe Serene is innocent. Perhaps you should talk with her—tell her your fears.”
She wanted him to agree. To prove that he could still be considered a friend, despite the evidence stacked against him.
Grandeur shook his head. “I can’t tip our hand. Besides, she’d only deny her treasonous intentions.”
“But surely this note isn’t a sign of treason—”
“As you said, it could mean anything. We must treat it as the threat it could be.” He dropped her hand and tucked the note into his pocket.
Clare straightened. “What are you going to do?”
“This isn’t enough evidence to place before my father. We need to watch Serene. Catch her if—when—she truly turns treasonous.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, head ducked so their gazes were level. “I need you to watch her.”
Clare shook her head slowly, her eyes still locked with his as she gave the response Serene had laid out. “But we leave for Mortise soon. You won’t be around to help me.”
“You won’t be cut off.” Grandeur pulled back his hand, only to twist off one of his many rings. It was heavy and thick with a crest on top: a bird with wings outstretched. “This was my mother’s. Use it to seal any letter and any city guardsman within Devendran borders will see it safely to me. Convey anything that could be useful in bringing Serene’s plans to light, and I swear you and your family will remain safe.”
She hoped he didn’t notice the sweat on her palm when she took the offered ring. He’d believed her so quickly. Almost like he trusted her.
A waver of doubt, lined with guilt, thickened her throat. What if Grandeur truly was a friend, and she had somehow misread the conversation in the garden? What if he’d been playing the spy, too?
But what if he was an enemy?
Grandeur looked at her full on. “There’s no turning back from this, Clare. Are you sure?”
Her pulse drummed and her heart clenched.
He was right. There was no turning back.
“Yes,” she breathed. “I’m sure.”
Clare walked briskly toward the garden’s exit, hands still trembling over what she’d done. Grandeur had left in the other direction so they could take separate exits in case anyone watched.
The desire to talk to Bennick was strong, reaching past the strain between them. But Clare had promised Serene she wouldn’t share any of this. Besides, Bennick could do nothing against Grandeur or Newlan and Clare didn’t want to put him in danger. For now, she would follow Serene’s lead. Despite their rough history, she trusted the princess.
Clare quickened her step, anxious to shrug off this encounter and focus on her normal routine—as both Grandeur and Serene had urged her to do. She had defense training with Dirk; Bennick had turned the task over to the older guard, after the truth about Eliot had come out. In many ways, training with Dirk was harder because his style was different. She was grateful for the added challenge. It kept her focused on the moment, and she needed that more than ever.
Rounding one of the final corners, Clare hit into a hard chest. Steel hands grabbed her arms, steadying her. She opened her mouth to apologize, but when she looked up the words caught in her throat.
The commander stared down at her, a frown twisting his face. “Miss Ellington.” His hold tightened. “Just the person I hoped to find.”
Fear lanced through her chest and her breath came out too harshly. “Release me.”
Slowly—deliberately—he lifted a finger at a time and peeled his hands away.
Clare took a step back and gripped her gray skirt in her fists. “Let me pass.”
The commander didn’t move. “We never had a chance to discuss what happened at the ball.”
Anger tightened her skin and she gritted her teeth. “I was trying to help your wife.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “My wife’s well-being isn’t your concern.”
“Nor does it seem to be yours.”
His blue eyes—like Bennick’s, but far too cold—narrowed. “Just because you look like Serene doesn’t make you the princess. You have no authority. And I think we both know the king wouldn’t take well to you parading around as his daughter, issuing orders in her name.”
Clare matched his glare. She had no words for this man—this monster. She stepped around him, but his hand snagged her wrist and jerked her close.
Her pulse tripped as his fingers squeezed. He leaned in, his voice low and dark. “If you interfere in my affairs again, I’ll tell the king you abused your illusion of power. You’ll be at his mercy, and I don’t think he’ll have much to offer.”
“Do you think he’d show you mercy?” Clare shot back.
His brows slammed down. “What?”
“You disobeyed the king’s orders. You told Bennick about me. I wonder if the king would
