Page 187 of Royal Rebel

“I’d love that, too. When we return to Iden, I’ll make arrangements.” A shadow swept over his face. “I hope they’re safe. Just knowing what Grandeur has been doing there—the Hunt, and all their crimes . . . It doesn’t really sound like the home we left.”

Clare agreed. Thinking of Devendra itself was strange. The kingdom felt so distant. Devendra—more specifically, Iden—had been her entire world before becoming the decoy. Knowing her brothers were no longer there only added to the feeling of dissonance. Without them, she wasn’t sure where home was, now.

Venn frowned as they reached the unguarded suite. “I wonder where Walters is.”

“Perhaps he’s inside.”

Venn’s steps slowed, urging Clare to hesitate as well. “Let me go first,” he said.

The tang of the air changed. Clare stiffened, a sense of warning spiking. “Venn . . .”

“Just stay out here,” he said quietly. “It’s probably nothing.” But he drew the dagger at his belt as he opened the door. He moved in slowly, and Clare remained where she was for half a beat before following.

The sitting room was empty, the lamps glowing weakly. There was no sign of Walters, Vera, or Bridget.

Venn glanced at Clare, exasperation in his gaze, but he didn’t order her back. He remained silent as he moved toward the small bedroom Vera used. He prodded the door open with his fingertips and peeked inside.

Clare peered around him, but there was nothing to see—the room was empty.

Venn’s brow furrowed, his tension obvious as he walked to the main bedroom. He paused at the door, and Clare soon realized why.

The door was mostly closed, but wasn’t actually latched.

The small hairs on the back of her neck lifted as Venn nudged the portal open. He instantly stiffened, and Clare sucked in a sharp breath.

Vera was laid out on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Red roses were placed all around her, and her blonde hair had been carefully combed out across the pillow. One red blossom was in her mouth, crimson petals open, mimicking an open mouth, silently screaming.

Grief tore through Clare. Her knees trembled, and her stomach lurched. Images of Ivonne’s body flashed over what she currently saw. Fates, Ivonne—now Vera.

Venn was like stone, frozen and hard. Then, with an agonized cry, he flew forward and grabbed Vera’s arm.

Clare gasped when Vera’s hand flashed up, wrapping around Venn’s forearm.

She was still alive.

Clare staggered as relief hit her like a crashing wave.

“I told you not to move, Vera.”

Clare spun at the words, flinching when she saw Zilas emerge from behind the door. But even though her body reflexively retreated, her training took over. This wasn’t an enemy to run from.

This was an enemy she needed to fight.

She shoved the door into him. It connected harshly and Zilas grunted, but the blow didn’t do more than rock him. His hand flashed out and he snagged her elbow, wrenching her into his arms. She struggled, until Zilas’s blade pressed into her side.

Stilling, she looked up to see Venn—still clutching Vera’s arm, but angled toward Clare, that dagger still clutched in his hand.

The smile in Zilas’s voice was clear. “I told Vera we’d play a little game. If she holds still and keeps that rose in her mouth, I won’t kill her. And I won’t kill you, Venn, if you don’t try to stop me from taking Clare. So. Are we all going to play the game, or is everyone going to die tonight?”

His chest rose and fell calmly against her back. Clare shuddered in his hold.

Venn’s grip on Vera was desperate, his eyes dark as he glared at the Rose.

Zilas chuckled. “No grand words, Venn? No useless promises? I think Bennick would be disappointed in you.”

Venn’s knuckles were white as he clutched the dagger. Indecision tore his expression; he was poised to fight, but unable to act. Not with Zilas holding a knife to Clare’s side. His eyes darted beyond Zilas, through the partially opened door.

“Looking for Bennick to help you?” the Rose asked. “I’m afraid he won’t be helping anyone tonight.”

---