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Bennick made a soothing sound in his throat as his lips brushed the back of her neck. “You couldn’t have known, Clare. Don’t invite more pain.”
Her lungs seared with the pressure of holding back tears. “I don’t know what to do.”
She couldn’t even bury her brothers, because they’d turned to ash. Her baby brothers were gone, and she was in an entirely different kingdom.
Bennick kissed her shoulder, keeping her tethered despite the storm that was trying to tear her apart. “You don’t have to do anything, Clare.”
They remained on the bed for nearly an hour before Clare asked, “What will everyone think of you spending the night in here?”
“They’ll think I care about you.”
She frowned a little. “You don’t sound concerned.”
“I’m not.”
“We’re supposed to keep this a secret.”
“I know.” Bennick’s thumb was still tracing circles, though his hand had shifted so the soothing pattern was drawn against her side. “But all the bodyguards already know.”
She jerked in his arms. “Theydo?”
He only tucked her closer. “It’s fine. Apparently they guessed the truth before we even left Iden. They won’t betray us. They know I’m still dedicated to protecting Serene.”
He sounded so calm, her anxiety settled a little. “We still need to be careful. What about Serene, or Bridget?”
“After last night, they’ve probably guessed, if they hadn’t already figured it out.”
She craned her head around so she could eye him. “If the king finds out, you could lose your position.” Or his life, if Newlan decided to interpret Bennick’s actions as treasonous. Technically, King Newlan owned her; she’d pledged her life to him in her service as the decoy. Until she died, she was nothing more than Newlan’s servant. Now that he couldn’t threaten her brothers, there really wasn’t any punishment she feared—except what he might do to Bennick.
“He’s in Iden,” Bennick said. “And if word did make it back to him . . . I’m not sure how much I care anymore.”
That made her stomach tighten. Before she could express her concerns, there was a soft knock on the door.
Bennick kissed her cheek, then gently rolled away. He rose on the other side of the bed and crossed the small room to the door.
He opened it only a crack, but Wilf’s gravelly voice traveled easily. “Is she still sleeping?”
“No, but she’s resting.”
Wilf grunted. “I asked Bridget to order food for her.”
“Thank you.”
“Cardon and I can attend to everything. You stay with her. She shouldn’t be alone.”
There was an undercurrent of old grief in Wilf’s words, and Clare’s broken heart fractured a little more. Wilf had lost his wife years ago, and he’d mourned her deeply—and not always well. He’d drunk to excess, gambled away most of his coin, and lost his position as captain of Prince Grandeur’s bodyguards.
“I won’t leave her,” Bennick said, assurance in every word.
Clare pushed up from the bed and walked with bare feet to join him at the door. Bennick watched her, something like caution in his gaze, but he opened the door a little wider so she could see Wilf.
The giant towered over them. It looked like he hadn’t slept much, either. There were wrinkles in his uniform, and his pox-scarred face was hard. His eyes, when they met hers, went soft. “I’m sorry for your loss, Clare.”
She dipped her chin. It was the only acknowledgement she could afford at the moment. “Is the coronation still happening?”
Wilf frowned. “I haven’t heard anything official yet, but everyone seems to be proceeding as if it is.”
Bennick glanced at her. “You’re not going.”
