Page 105 of Royal Rebel

The other men looked at him, and there was a beat of silence before one of the men cleared his throat. “Of course we don’t envy him. Still, he’s the serjan, and his first duty is to us—Mortise.”

“Of course,” Desfan’s defender said. “But I think it would be better for us to stand with him, rather than stand over here tearing him apart.Thatis what will build a stronger Mortise.”

Imara could have applauded, though the other men didn’t seem as impressed by the man’s speech. “You’ve spent too much time on Dorma, Kashif,” one of them said. “Things in the world are turbulent.”

“I’m well aware,” Kashif said, his voice firmer than before. “I nearly died from the injuries I sustained at the attack the night before the coronation. An attack that was organized by Amil Havim—a man who should have been loyal to Desfan and Mortise. He—in his hatred of our serjan—killed his own people. He allied with Devendran rebels, emptied our prison of dangerous prisoners, and he allowed the royal treasury to be raided. The damage he caused to Mortise is still being calculated, andhe wasone ofus.” He paused, then said emphatically, “I believe that bears thinking about.”

The air bristled with tension, but before anyone could speak, a lovely Mortisian woman approached the group. Her elbow was looped with Clare’s, and Venn trailed them.

The Mortisian woman smiled at the men. “I hope we’re not interrupting, but I wanted to introduce the princess to my husband, if I might steal him.”

“Of course,” one of the men said at once. “Kashif—we’ll speak later, I’m sure.”

Kashif tipped his head, though his mouth was tight as the men walked away. Still, he managed a smile as he faced his wife and bowed to Clare. “Princess Serene, it is an honor.”

“I’m relieved to see you’re well,” Clare said, adopting Serene’s tone and air so well, Imara could almost believe itwasher cousin standing there. “Your wife kept me informed of your progress every time I visited her.”

Kashif’s wife beamed. “The princess has been most kind. And Sidrah adores her, of course. And her bodyguards.” She shot a quick look back up the beach, where Bennick was admiring yet another shell from the small girl.

Much of Kashif’s tension melted away as he looked lovingly at his daughter. “She is a marvelous judge of character, so that speaks highly for you and your guards, Princess.”

“Thank you,” Clare said. “Ilah told me Sidrah can be quite shy.”

“She is at ease when among friends,” the woman—Ilah—said. She focused on her husband, her eyes going serious. “I was surprised to see you speaking with Faqir and the others.”

Kashif grunted. “They weren’t my first choice for company. As soon as we can be away from Duvan, the better. I miss the peace of home.”

Ilah brightened. “I was just telling the princess about Dorma, but you’re right—there is no other place so peaceful.” She turned to Clare. “Princess, you must come visit. And you’ll stay with us, of course.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Clare said. “I’m not sure when I’ll be able to make the trip, however.”

“The invitation is open,” Ilah said. “Whenever you’re able, we’d love to host you. I can introduce you to all the nobles on the island. They would be good allies for you to have, I think. They don’t have as much political sway as the members of court here, but they are strong families.”

“Thank you,” Clare repeated.

“Serjan,” Kashif called out.

Somehow, Imara had missed Desfan’s approach. He looked a little preoccupied—perhaps from his conversation with Ranon—but he offered a pleasant smile as he angled toward the small group. “Ser Hassan, is it?” he asked.

Kashif bowed. “I’m honored, Serjan.”

Desfan smiled a little. “I don’t know if you remember, but when I was a boy, my family dined with yours during one of our trips to Dorma.”

“I recall,” Kashif said. “Though I’m surprised you do. You were young, and you must have had many dinners on Dorma.”

The corner of Desfan’s mouth twitched. “Yes, well, not all of those dinners included such fabulous desserts.”

Kashif chuckled. “I think my mother found the best baker in Eyrinthia to work for her. I miss those delicious creations . . .”

The conversation continued for another few moments, though Imara caught Desfan glancing at her more than once. Finally, the Hassans excused themselves, leaving Desfan and Clare standing together.

Desfan lowered his voice; if Imara hadn’t been sitting so close, she would have missed his words to Clare. “You’re very impressive. You do so well with all of this.”

Clare’s eyes widened slightly. “Thank you, Serjan. And thank you for allowing this.” She gestured to the children, who were mostly still eating.

“Of course. It was an inspired idea.” Desfan twisted to face her completely, his voice lowering further—Imara had to strain to catch each word. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but I’m sorry about your brothers. You have my deepest sorrow.”

The Mortisian phrase was clearly uttered with full sincerity; Desfan was one who knew too well the grief of loss. Imara’s heart tugged, feeling pain for him and Clare. But she also felt a stirring of pride. Desfan didn’t know Clare well. He didn’t need to take the time to offer comfort and empathy—but that was exactly who he was.

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