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Yahri’s eyes were unreadable, but she dipped her chin. “You’re right, of course. We can continue this discussion later and discuss our options.”
Discuss our options.He hated how that sounded. As if Mia—his precious little sister—was a problem that needed to be solved.
“Don’t let this trouble you now,” Yahri said, surprising him. He didn’t think she’d ever looked so gentle—so compassionate. “There is nothing to be done about Meerah just yet, and you have more immediate concerns.”
Desfan let out a slow breath at the reminder. Grandeur. Dinner. Fates, there was always something. He pushed to his feet. “Thank you, Yahri.”
“You’re welcome, Desfan.” He and Karim had nearly made it to the door when Yahri called out, “Wear your crown to dinner. It won’t hurt to remind Grandeur—and everyone else—that you’re the serjan.”
Desfan tossed a thin smile over his shoulder. “If I wear it, willyouremember I’m your serjan and stop pestering me so much?”
She snorted. “If you manage to make it through one day without needing my pestering, I might.”
After an exhausting dinner, Desfan headed toward Serene’s suite. Bennick had approached him at dinner and asked if he could visit with him and Clare before he retired for the night. Desfan imagined the impromptu meeting had something to do with Grandeur’s appearance—especially because Clare never came to dinner, and he caught Bennick shooting a hard look at the Devendran prince as he strode from the room.
Two guards trailed Desfan as he walked down the empty hallway. Desfan had already dismissed Karim for the night, since his friend had had such an emotional day. Fates, he wishedhecould be dismissed for the night. His crown dangled in one fist at his side, his head aching too much to hold it up.
Prince Grandeur wasnothis favorite person. The man smiled too thinly, and his gaze was scheming. And then had come his requests . . .
I heard about the camp, Salvation. I would like to help you solve the problem. I would like to instate one of my men to run things . . .
Desfan had managed to put off any commitments, but he knew the prince would be asking again soon, and he needed a good answer.
He wondered how Serene would handle her brother, if she were here. She’d probably manage effortless diplomacy, or a satisfying snap at her brother; with Serene, either was possible.
When he turned down the corridor that led to Serene’s suite, he spotted Imara’s door. He didn’t want to keep Bennick and Clare waiting, but after the long day he’d had, he needed to see Imara.
Taking a slight detour, he approached Kaz, who was standing guard outside the door.
The man bowed at Desfan’s approach. “Serjan.”
“Is she awake?” Desfan asked.
A crash sounded beyond the closed door.
Kaz shoved open the door, Desfan right behind him as they tore into the room. His heart raced and his palm itched for a weapon. He hadn’t yet allowed weapons to be worn at palace dinners, but he had a knife hidden in his boot.
He didn’t bother slowing so he could retrieve it.
He darted through the sitting room and into Imara’s bedroom, almost taking Kaz down in his haste to reach Imara.
The princess was sprawled on the floor, near the window that had been repaired after her would-be-assassin had jumped through it.
But Imara wasn’t under attack. She was alone. One hand was planted against the wall, and the other strangled the cane Desfan had given her. When she looked up and their gazes clashed, he saw the sheen of tears that made her dark eyes glitter.
At once, he knew what had happened; she’d tried to walk on her own, and she’d failed.
His pulse still pounded, the adrenaline rushing through his body not understanding that there was no threat to fight.
Kaz’s voice was quiet. “Do you need the physician, Princess?”
“No,” Imara said, her voice wavering just enough to make Desfan’s heart clench.
Kaz took a step forward, but Desfan gestured for him to retreat.
The bodyguard bowed and left, closing the door gently behind him.
Desfan stepped forward. “Would you like to return to your bed?” he asked softly.
