Bennick’s jaw tightened. “He won’t bother you again.”
She wanted details, but it didn’t feel right to ask. The tense set of Bennick’s shoulders assured her she hadn’t been the only topic to rise between father and son. Besides, her breaths were getting shorter the longer they stood together. The air between them was strained, yet also charged, lifting the fine hairs on her body.
“May I join you?” Bennick asked, an undercurrent running beneath the question.
“Yes.”
He eased into the stall and stroked Fury’s nose. The horse nudged his palm, obviously comfortable with him. “How is defense training going?” he asked, moving around Fury to search for another brush.
I miss you.
“Quite well,” she said instead.
Bennick nodded once. “Good.” He didn’t look at her as he lifted a brush and set to work, the large animal standing between them.
Having him so near, being alone in the closed space of the stall, wreaked havoc on her thoughts, feelings, and body. Her skin felt too tight, her pulse thrummed, and all she could think was how much she wished she hadn’t pushed him away. Perhaps she’d needed time, but now she needed him. She just wasn’t sure what to say—where to start.
Resting a steadying hand on Fury’s warm back, she pulled the brush down with the other.
Soft fingers glanced over hers and her eyes shot to Bennick. His hand slid back, held a breath away from her fingertips against the horse’s back. “I’ve missed you, Clare.”
The softly spoken words warmed her. “I’ve missed you, too.”
A thin smile crept into place. “You have?”
Clare nodded, then bit her lower lip. The words began to spill from her. “I’m sorry for how I reacted.”
He grimaced. “Please don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.”
“Yes, I did. I was angry about a lot of things. Angry with myself. And I took it out on you.” She shook her head. “Avoiding you was wrong, I just . . .”
“I understand,” he said gently. “And if you need space, I can give you that.”
“I don’t want space from you.” The words were out before she realized their boldness. And though warmth touched her cheeks, she wouldn’t take them back.
Bennick’s blue eyes sparked and he dipped his head, strands of sandy blond hair brushing his forehead. “I can tell Dirk not to worry about training you tomorrow.”
“I’d like that.”
He smiled, and an answering grin tugged her lips. Ducking her head, she pulled back her hand and renewed her efforts to brush Fury.
“Serene!”
Clare and Bennick twisted to face Ser Amil Havim, who stood at the stall entrance. The Mortisian’s smile spread wide, though an edge lurked in his dark brown eyes.
“Ser Havim.” Clare inclined her head politely, but kept a grounding hand on Fury’s back. She hadn’t seen the emissary’s son since the ball and she’d rather enjoyed the reprieve.
“I’m sorry I missed your ride—I would have liked to join you. Would you indulge me with a walk around the garden instead?”
“No, thank you.”
His eyebrows lowered. “I only want to talk.”
“I don’t think there’s anything for us to discuss.”
Bennick took the brush from Clare’s hand. “I’ll escort you to the castle.” He didn’t look at Amil, but his words were clearly for his benefit.
“Wait. Please.” Amil took a step forward and Bennick shifted so he was slightly in front of Clare, clearly defensive. Amil glanced at him, but focused on Clare. “I know you must feel wary—”
“You gave me a poisoned necklace,” she interrupted, tone thin.
He winced. “I assure you, my father and I had nothing to do with that.”
“It came from your treasury.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “Yes, but it passed through many hands!”
Bennick spoke firmly. “Step back.”
The Mortisian darted a look to Clare. “Serene, please—”
“Now,” Bennick ordered.
Amil grit his teeth, eyes cutting to Bennick. “You dare address me like that?”
Bennick didn’t blink. “Yes.”
Amil’s eyes narrowed, but Clare stepped forward, her fingers brushing Bennick’s arm in a silent request to stay back. He remained an impressive force beside her; she could actually feel the threat of him, ready to spring if Amil even twitched in her direction. She faced Amil, her chin lifting imperiously. “Please leave, Ser Havim. I don’t wish to speak with you.”
His mouth thinned. “I hope you’ll reconsider our friendship, Serene.”
“I won’t.”
Amil’s expression locked. “I see.” He bowed his head, shoulders tight. “Good day, Princess.” He stalked away, a Mortisian guard peeling from the shadows to follow him, his hand on the hilt of his curved sword.
The muscles in Clare’s neck tightened as she watched Amil leave. She was beginning to wonder if Amil posed an even greater threat than his father.
Chapter 35
Grayson
Mia placed another ucea berry in her mouth. “Thank you for these.”
“They’re growing everywhere now.” Grayson plucked a red berry from the bowl sitting on the wooden table between them. They had the cell to themselves this morning, since Mama was out. The room was still cool, but the stove wasn’t needed. With summer finally touching Ryden, the dungeon wouldn’t be such an uncomfortable place.
The back of Grayson’s jaw ached from the tartness of the ucea berries, but Mia kept popping them into her mouth, clearly savoring the tang as she chewed. “Do you know what I miss?” she asked suddenly.
“What?”
She folded her arms on the solid square table and leaned forward, drawing Grayson’s full attention. “I miss the days you came back to me not bleeding. Those were good days. Rare, but good.”
He frowned. “I’m not bleeding.”
“You were.” Her gaze shifted pointedly to his left cheek.
The knife wound from Tyrell still ached, even though it was days old. The cut in his arm had been deeper, but both ached with the familiar pain of a knife-wound. The Syalla had burned through his blood for about fifteen eternal minutes, but had faded eventually. “I’m fine,” he assured her.
“Forgive me if I don’t always believe you.” Her fingers drummed against her bent elbows, her full pink lips pressed together. “Are you still taking something for the
