Cardon breathed deeply, feet spread wide. “Are you going to tell me what war is happening in your head?”
Bennick swiped a hand over his brow, knocking back damp strands of hair. “I’m fine.”
The older man snorted. “You’re just strangling that staff for no reason. I’m sure you also had no reason to spar here, rather than the training yard where Clare is.”
Bennick’s head snapped up, chest rising. “Clare has nothing to do with this.”
Cardon leveled a look at him.
Bennick’s face heated and he looked away. Apple trees lined either side of them, shielding them from view. When he was a child, he’d often lost himself among these trees, playing the long afternoons away. He was lost now, but in a different way.
“You’ve been avoiding her for days,” Cardon said.
Bennick ground the end of his staff deeper into the dirt and looked down the straight row of trees. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Have youever done something, and—even though you had no other choice—you still regret what you did?”
Cardon met the convoluted question easily. “Yes.”
Bennick’s fingers tightened on the smooth wooden staff. “How did you come to peace with it?
Cardon’s forehead creased. “I haven’t. But I know I made the only choice I could have.” His cocked his head. “This isn’t just about Clare, is it?”
Bennick glanced away from his friend’s gaze.
Cardon’s voice was quite. “I know you have regrets about your father. And Fates can see he has regrets about you. But you’re not him, Bennick. His flaws aren’t your flaws.”
The words hit Bennick hard, pinching his throat. All he could do was offer a short nod of thanks.
Cardon planted the end of his staff on the ground. “One thing I’ve learned is that the worst regrets don’t come from what we said or did. They come from what we didn’t say or do.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what happened between you and Clare, but she misses you. I catch her searching every room she enters and she’s always looking over her shoulder—looking for you.”
Bennick wanted Cardon’s words to be true, but his stomach clenched. “I did something to someone she loves. Something I can never reverse.” He swallowed, throat bobbing hard. “I don’t know if she’ll be able to forgive me.”
Cardon shifted his stance on the uneven ground, gripping his staff. “Don’t walk away leaving things unsaid. A man can never make a graver mistake.”
Bennick huffed a laugh. “You sound as wise as Dirk.”
“It was bound to happen after all the years we’ve served to-gether.” Cardon hefted his staff, spinning it so it whistled through the air. He stopped the motion almost at once and winced, shaking out his arm. “Promise me you’ll talk to her. I’m getting too old for this level of sparring.”
Bennick cracked a smile, then clasped Cardon’s free hand. “Thank you.”
Cardon’s grip flexed and his eyes were intent as he met Ben-nick’s gaze. “You’re not alone, Bennick. Never forget that.”
A knot swelled in his chest and he tightened his hold on Cardon’s hand. Despite everything wrong with his father, Bennick had found good men he could look up to.
He would always thank the Fates for that.
Chapter 34
Clare
Clare didn’t dare advance beyond a trot with Fury. The powerful horse snorted and tossed her head often and each step was sharp. Clare’s skin was stained darker and she wore Serene’s riding dress, but Fury still knew she wasn’t the princess. Thank the fates the horse hadn’t decided to throw her.
By the end of the ride, Master Lank was grinning. He helped her dismount, pride shining in his eyes. “A lovely job, Princess.”
“Thank you.”
He took Fury’s reins and they walked into the stable, moving away from the stable hands. “May I ask you something, Clare?” Master Lank asked softly. When she nodded, his question took her off-guard. “What happened between you and Ben?”
Her stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”
They entered the shadowed stable and Master Lank shrugged. “You’ve both been out of sorts and he doesn’t escort you to the stable anymore. Have you argued?”
Clare scuffed her foot against the straw-strewn ground. “There was a misunderstanding. That’s all.”
Master Lank sighed. “I know it’s not my place, but I can’t watch you both suffer without saying something. I’ve seen too much sadness. My son . . .” Grief swelled in his voice and he glanced away. “I don’t know if Gavril told you, but he used to be stationed along the Mortisian border, near Stills. During some border violence, Mortisians attacked the outpost. His wife, Bonnai, was killed in front of him. His daughter, just three months old, was killed by a fire the Mortisians set. Gavril nearly lost his life trying to save her from the flames. And still he lost her, too.”
Clare pressed a hand over her mouth, her chest squeezing. “I didn’t know. How terrible. I’m so sorry.”
Master Lank cleared his throat, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I tell you so you can understand the advice I’ve given him: life isn’t predictable. Tragedies happen, and there are consequences beyond our control. But we choose the people we want close to us. We choose to be lonely, or embraced. Don’t choose loneliness, my dear.” He handed her the reins and bowed before walking out of the stable, disappearing into the sunlight.
Clare pursed her lips and tugged Fury forward, leading them deeper inside the stable. She found Fury’s stall and set about tending her, as Serene was known to do. She was brushing the animal’s shiny brown coat when a boot scuffed against the floor behind her. She twisted, freezing when she saw Bennick.
He stood with one hand braced against the frame of the open stall, his throat bobbing once. “I’m sorry I missed watching you ride. Master Lank said you did well.”
The brush stung her palm, she gripped it so tightly. Seeing him loosened the ache in her chest she’d almost grown accustomed too, even though his presence also made her stomach
