Page 165 of Royal Rebel

The man hadn’t liked Desfan since.

Desfan hadn’t seen Ayma in years, and he had no idea if she and her husband were involved in Fang’s business now, but he hated to think of anyone being abducted—especially an innocent infant. His eyes narrowed. “Who has them?”

“A Zennorian named Sahvi,” Fang said tightly.

Sahvi. A name Desfan kept hearing—from Jamal, from the kivs who continued to investigate the olcain, and even Liam.

“He’s the one who brought olcain to Duvan on such a large scale,” Fang explained, though Desfan had already known that.

“I think it’s time I met this Sahvi,” Desfan muttered.

Fang shook his head. “You can’t go against him just yet. He’s hiding somewhere in Duvan—even I don’t know where. But I know where he’ll be in ten days.”

“Where?”

“My warehouse. His men took control of it, along with my home. It took a great deal to arrange this appointment with you; I’m watched constantly.” For the first time, Desfan saw fear in Fang’s eyes. “Sahvi controls all I have and he’ll continue to manipulate me as long as he has my family.”

“Why did he do this?” Desfan asked. “What does he want from you?”

Fang shifted his weight, obviously debating how much to share.

Desfan’s eyes narrowed. “I can only help you and Ayma if you tell me everything.”

The criminal scrubbed a hand through his hair, his exhale sharp. “For the last several weeks, many of my associates have gone silent, only to eventually go missing entirely. At first, I assumed they were fleeing due to your tightening security in Duvan. Now, I suspect Sahvi used them as he’s attempting to use me, and then—when he got what he wanted—he killed them.”

“What does Sahvi want from you?” Razan asked, repeating Desfan’s earlier question.

“He wants me to smuggle goods from Duvan to Zennor.” Fang hesitated, shooting a look at Desfan. “According to the men I overheard, it’s a portion of the treasure stolen from you, Serjan.”

Shock rippled through him. “How did a drug master from Zennor end up with my treasure?”

“I don’t know,” Fang said. “But if you want to reclaim it—and capture Sahvi, so you can ask your questions—then help me.” Desperation tinged his next words. “Help me save my daughter and her family. Please.”

Desfan looked at Karim, then Razan. Finally, he focused back on Fang. “Tell us everything you know of Sahvi’s plan.”

Chapter 38

Clare

Clarehadonlybeenon Dorma for two days, but she’d already fallen in love with it. The island was breathtaking. It was larger than she’d expected, with lush jungle surrounding the sprawling main port city of Madihr, and the other smaller cities and villages she hoped to visit one day.

Madihr was even more colorful than Duvan, which was no easy feat. Clare was used to the cities of Devendra, which were all varying shades of gray stone, and mostly dark woods. In Mortise, buildings were made of golden sandstone, or painted in vibrant shades of crimson, indigo, emerald, and coral. On Madihr, Clare had yet to see a door that was plain, or a fountain without exquisitely patterned tilework. Once, the chaos of the varying colors might have overwhelmed her Devendran tastes. Now, they made her feel alive.

She was grateful Desfan had been so understanding of her need to leave Duvan. He’d helped make all the arrangements so she could leave with the Hassans, the very day after Grandeur had arrived at the palace.

The Hassans were wonderful hosts. Their estate was private and beautiful, and Ilah especially relished showing Clare—or Serene, as she thought of her—every beautiful thing Madihr had to offer. They had attended a play last night, and a tea this afternoon with some of the local ladies. Ilah planned to host a ball, to welcome the princess properly to Dorma and introduce her to all the influential families of Madihr.

She never would have dreamed to visit a place like this. The foods, the markets, the sights, the smells. Thomas and Mark would have delighted in all of it. Sometimes, Clare felt a stab of guilt for the joy she was experiencing. But Desfan’s words that day on the beach kept floating back to her:Your grief will always be there. But you get to choose how you carry that grief. It can overwhelm you, or you can accept it as a part of you and continue to live.

She would miss her brothers for the rest of her life. Sometimes, the pain of missing them would be excruciating. But she would survive, just as Desfan had survived. That meant facing each new day as it came. It meant reaching out for Bennick, Vera, or Venn when she needed them, and not isolating herself. It meant feeling her grief, but not succumbing to it.

So, when Ilah asked if Clare wanted to visit one of Madihr’s museums, she hadn’t hesitated to accept the invitation.

As she wandered the galleries, she wished she knew a little more about art. But even with her untrained eye, she could see the paintings were masterful. There were stunning landscapes, depictions of old battles, and portraits of previous royals—including a portrait of Desfan, when he was only a couple of years old. But while the paintings were stunning, it was the sculptures that completely staggered her.

Clare had never seen such works of art. The outdoor statues in Devendra were weathered and crude compared to this protected stonework. The marble had been molded to look like living flesh, and the emotions that had been captured in their poses and expressions heldhercaptive. She couldn’t look away from the carved hands—with details as minute as fingernails—or the veined throats that somehow looked real, despite the striations in the stone.

Bennick trailed behind her at an expected distance for a bodyguard. Venn was with him, though his focus was on Vera, who had lingered on the other side of the room to study a painting of a jungle.

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