Page 106 of Royal Rebel

“Thank you,” Clare whispered, her voice thicker than before. “I appreciate that. It has been . . . difficult.”

He tipped his chin. “I remember how lost I felt. How painful every new day felt.”

“I’ve experienced loss before,” Clare admitted. “My parents, when I was a child, and then my older brother more recently. But Thomas and Mark . . . they were so young. Their loss feels different—worse.”

Desfan’s eyes were full of compassion. “Fates. I didn’t realize how many people you’ve lost.”

She cracked a pained smile. “I know you understand what it’s like to lose your family. I’m sorry you do, though.”

“I’m sorry for both of us.”

There was a short pause. Then Clare sighed. “It feels like I should be better at this by now.”

“I don’t think mourning ever gets easier. Every loss is so different. But we learn ways to cope—and ways not to.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a self-deprecating smile. “I could give you a long list of thingsnotto do.”

Clare met his smile, and there was undisguised admiration in her eyes. “You’ve survived, though.”

“I have. And so will you.” He reached out and touched her arm. To any onlookers farther up the beach, it might appear like an affectionate gesture between two people betrothed to marry. What Imara saw was so much deeper than that. It was a sign of compassion, strength, and understanding between a man who had once lost his entire family, and a woman who was currently wading through that same unimaginable anguish.

“Your grief will always be there,” Desfan said. “I know you know that, from losing your parents. 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.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was a little rougher than before. “I went through a time when I was sure the weight of my grief would kill me. I’m sure you’ve experienced the same. But those moments don’t have to last forever. You can walk through them. And you don’t have to walk through them alone.”

Tears stung Imara’s eyes, and she didn’t care if anyone noticed. Those words—spoken from Desfan’s soul—were beautiful. Powerful.

Clare seemed just as affected. Her breathing hitched thinly, her eyes shining with moisture. “Thank you, Desfan. I needed to hear that.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “We all need reminders from time to time. And if you ever need someone to talk to—or someone to listen—I’m here.”

“Thank you,” she said again. She wiped quickly at her eyes. “And thank you for allowing Latif to go to Devendra for me. I know that must not have been easy.”

“It wasn’t. But I think it was the right decision. If the man can bring you any measure of peace, that matters more than anything. In any case, I would prefer to concentrate my revenge on King Henri.” The darkness in his eyes and the hardness of his jaw left little to the imagination on that score. The serjan was interested in blood.

Imara couldn’t blame him. If someone had taken one of her little sisters and locked her away, Imara woulddestroythe Rydenic king.

“I was so relieved to hear that your youngest sister is still alive,” Clare said, her voice so soft it barely reached Imara. “It’s a blessing from the fates.”

“Yes,” Desfan said. “It will feel more real once she’s home, though.”

“I hope she returns quickly and safely.”

“Thank you.” He glanced toward Imara, and she tried not to look like she’d been blatantly listening to them.

She was sure she failed.

Clare followed his gaze and sent Imara a small smile before excusing herself. She moved back up the beach—toward Bennick—and Desfan came to sit beside Imara.

“I trust you’ve been enjoying yourself?” he asked.

“It’s amazing the things one overhears when stuck in one place.” She nodded toward the Hassans. “You can trust them, I think. Ser Hassan defended you among his peers. They were less kind in their opinions about you.”

“I believe that. Despite being serjan, I’m not a very popular figure in Mortise.”

A stray hair tickled her cheek, but before she could lift her hand to swipe it away, Desfan leaned in, his knuckles brushing the swell of her cheek as he moved to tuck the errant strand behind her ear.

Her skin tingled from the innocent touch.

Fates, shehopedit looked like an innocent touch to anyone who might have witnessed it. Thankfully, most everyone had moved up the beach so they could eat, so she didn’t think anyone even noticed.

When Desfan pulled back his hand, Imara thought his breath thinned. His tone was unaffected as he asked, “Did you overhear anything I should be worried about?”

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