Page 13 of Royal Rebel

When Serene, Cardon, and Wilf had entered, Bennick softly told them what had happened. Their shock and compassion were almost too much to bear, and Clare was grateful when they soon disappeared, leaving her alone with Bennick.

When her tears finally faltered due to exhaustion, he’d carried her to her room and laid her on the bed. She’d grabbed his wrist before he could fully straighten. “Don’t leave me,” she begged, her voice ravaged from all the tears she’d cried.

Bennick leaned in, his blue eyes intense as he stroked away the tears on her cheek. “Never.”

He hadn’t left.

He was still here, in her bed, holding her. Both of them were on their sides, her back to his chest. He was curled around her in a protective, comforting embrace. His low, even breaths stirred the loose strands of her hair, and one bent knee pressed against her leg. They both still wore their clothes from last night; Bennick had only removed their shoes and his weapons before he’d joined her.

This wasn’t the first time Bennick had held her through the night. On Syed Zadir’s ship, after a nightmare, he had offered the same comfort. That didn’t lessen the intimacy of this moment, though. Not just because of the physical reality of sharing a bed, but the vulnerability of sharing her grief with him.

She pulled in a slow, wavering breath. It was morning. The sun had risen, and her brothers were gone.

It seemed unreal. Wholly wrong.

Bennick’s breathing changed—thinned. He stirred, his arm pulling her even closer. His head angled, ducking until his stubbled jaw gently scraped against her cheek and his mouth pressed a tender kiss against her neck, just below her ear.

Warmth spread through her hollow chest, and her eyes burned.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice rough with sleep.

The first words he gave to her, the morning after her world ended. She couldn’t think of a more perfect gift.

She slid her hand over his, which was flat against her stomach. She didn’t trust her voice, so she just pressed her hand against his, trying to ignore the slight crookedness of her fingers, which Salim had broken so many weeks ago.

Bennick pressed his forehead against the nape of her neck. Silence grew, but it wasn’t empty.

Beyond the bedroom door, the voices grew louder. The outer door of the suite opened and shut, and silence once again descended.

Bennick’s thumb moved in slow, soothing circles against the soft material of her dress. She never wanted him to stop. She never wanted to move from his arms. But this moment couldn’t last forever.

“I need to prepare for the coronation,” she whispered, her voice thin and scratchy.

Bennick’s hold tightened. “You don’t have to go. Serene said last night that she’d go herself. You can take all the time you need.”

She didn’t remember Serene saying that, but she certainly believed the princess had. Even though Serene didn’t always show her true self to the world, the princess of Devendra was fiercely protective and remarkably kind.

“Even if I don’t go,” Clare said, “youneed to.”

Serene was down two royal guards; Dirk had been killed during Ryden’s attack at the betrothal signing, and Venn was still missing. He and Vera had parted from Bennick and Wilf in Krid, a city in northern Mortise. They should have arrived at the palace before Bennick, Clare, and Wilf had—but they hadn’t. She prayed to the fates Venn and Vera were all right. She couldn’t lose anyone else.

“The coronation isn’t until this afternoon,” Bennick said quietly. “I don’t need to go anywhere yet.”

They both knew that wasn’t necessarily true. After the three-fold attack last night, there had been chaos in the Mortisian palace. Clare could only imagine that chaos was still being felt this morning.

Her thoughts flickered to Imara, who had been stabbed in the leg.Fates. She’d been so consumed in her own grief, she’d almost forgotten that. Hopefully Serene had been there for her cousin during the night.

“The coronation may not even happen today,” Bennick said. “From a security standpoint, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to delay.”

Silence stretched once more. Bennick’s love for her was a warmth that settled all around her. It gave her peace when all she wanted to do was scream.

Her lower lip trembled. “How long?” she asked, her voice cracking.

He knew what she was asking. His arm flexed as he drew her impossibly closer. “With the fastest messenger, it would have taken at least three weeks for the letter to make it here.”

Thomas and Mark had been dead for more than three weeks.

Her stomach pitched, and she blinked as her vision blurred. “I should have known,” she rasped.

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