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Despite the itch to return to Clare’s side, Bennick was amused by the woman’s critical instructions.
The Hassan’s servants looked less amused and more harried. Serai Jabar’s men seemed used to it. They carried the large baskets carefully, and Bennick watched to make sure nothing more than flowers entered the manor—and that every man who entered returned, so no one was unaccounted for.
Serai Jabar also watched things with a sharp eye, though once the servants complied with her particular orders, she picked up a large bouquet and carried it over to Bennick. “You’re Princess Serene’s bodyguard, correct?” When he nodded, she thrust the flowers into his hands. “These are for her,” she said, her volume overloud. “I’m giving it to you now so she doesn’t have to carry it in the ballroom.”
“Thank you, Serai Jabar. The princess will love them.”
Her face scrunched. “What?”
He repeated his words, louder than before.
The woman nodded, and the dangling pearl earrings she wore wavered beside her short neck. “I did promise to bring my finest to honor her first ball on Dorma. That ballroom will outshine any in Duvan!”
He was only half listening as he kept an eye on the passing baskets of flowers. “This was a very kind and generous gesture.”
“What?”
Before he could speak again, one of her men approached. “That’s everything unloaded, Serai Jabar.”
He must have gauged his tone correctly, because she beamed. “Wonderful! Please pay the driver and his men.”
The servant obediently tugged a coin purse from his pocket as he walked to the head of the cart, where the driver stood beside his dusky gray horse. The man hadn’t wandered from the animal since they’d arrived. His hand rubbed soothingly against the animal’s long neck; the horse seemed rather impatient to be on his way.
Bennick could relate. But no matter how eager he was to return to Clare, he took the time to re-count all the servants in view, just to make sure none had slipped away.
“Will you escort me inside?” Serai Jabar asked of him loudly. “I’ve never been through the side entrance, and I’m not sure where to go.”
“Of course.” Bennick offered his arm, glancing back at the cart in time to see two men climb into the back. The driver hopped up onto his seat and steered the horse back toward the main gate. He lost sight of them quickly because of the thick trees.
Serai Jabar tugged at his arm. “Is anything wrong?”
“No.” In fact, things on Dorma had been perfectly peaceful. He was grateful; fates knew Clare deserved a little peace. He and Venn hadn’t relaxed their guard, of course—that’s why he was personally overseeing the Hassan’s security tonight. But the Mortisian guards were vigilant and committed to protecting the princess, which made Bennick’s job easier.
Bennick led Serai Jabar to the brightly glowing ballroom, then continued on his way toward the second floor. The bouquet the older woman had given him was still in his hand, and he couldn’t help but feel relief that there wasn’t a single rose in the arrangement—or in the cart she’d had delivered. Perhaps they didn’t grow on the island, or maybe she’d heard of the infamous assassin who had stalked the princess, and she’d avoided them purposefully.
He hadn’t thought much about the rose left outside the orphanage in Duvan. With Grandeur’s arrival and their rush to come to Dorma, the incident had been far from his mind. He knew a confrontation between him and Zilas was inevitable. Someday he’d find a taunting note and know that Zilas was back, and he’d have to face his half-brother. But for now, he enjoyed the reprieve.
He reached the suite on the second floor that had been given to Clare—orSerene, as the Hassans thought of her—and he greeted Walters, who was stationed at the door. The Devendran guard returned the greeting, and Bennick stepped into the room, nearly running into Venn.
His friend glanced down at the bouquet between them. “Oh, Bennick—you shouldn’t have.”
Bennick snorted as he kicked the door closed with the heel of his boot. “They’re for Clare. From Serai Jabar.”
“That’s the old lady who wouldn’t stop talking about her flowers the other day, right?”
Bennick lifted one eyebrow—and the flowers. “Astute of you.”
Venn chuckled. “I just wanted to make sure.” He glanced at the flowers. “Clare’s clearly made a good impression on the Mortisians here. She really handles this part of being the decoy well; the mingling and creating friendships . . . To be honest, it makes me want to stay on Dorma indefinitely. Everyone here adores her, so she’s safer here.”
Bennick couldn’t disagree with his observations; in fact, he completely agreed. If it were possible, he’d keep Clare here forever. Her spirits were higher, and they’d managed to steal more time together than he’d dared hope for. They’d managed to visit their place beside the secluded stream nearly every night.
“Do you think we’ll get any word from Serene?” Venn asked suddenly.
“I asked Cardon to send a message once they reached the castle,” Bennick said. “Just so we know they arrived safely.”
Venn didn’t look fully satisfied. “It feels wrong, not knowing exactly where she is. Not being with them while they face the unknown in Zennor.”
“I know. But Serene wouldn’t be dissuaded.”
