Page 58 of Royal Rebel

“Fates,” Venn said into the brief silence that fell after Bennick stopped talking.

Wilf had not yet returned with Serene and Cardon. Bennick and Clare had briefly shared how Clare had been rescued after losing her in Krid, and their journey to Duvan on theSeafire, Captain Zadir’s pirate ship. They also told them about Dirk, as well as the events leading up to Desfan’s coronation.

Bennick, who sat in a chair across from them, glanced at Clare. She knew what he was silently asking; he wanted to know if she was ready to tell them about her brothers.

Her heart clenched. She gave a slight shake of her head.

Bennick’s eyes softened, then slid back to Venn. “Desfan is starting his rule with some challenges. Unfortunately, as this is Serene’s future kingdom, we’re definitely sharing in them.”

Vera, who sat between Clare and Venn on the long settee, let out a slow breath. “I’m so glad you’re all right, Clare. But poor Imara. And Dirk . . .”

Venn swallowed, his eyes going hard. “We’d heard about Prince Liam and Prince Grayson’s attack during the betrothal signing, but we didn’t know about Dirk.”

“He’s buried on the palace grounds,” Clare said softly. “If you’d like to visit him.”

Venn’s jaw was tight, but he nodded.

Vera set a hand on Venn’s knee. Without hesitation, he rested his hand over hers.

It was a simple gesture, but it communicated so much. Despite everything, warmth spread through Clare’s chest. She was glad Venn and Vera had resolved things between them; they’d both been miserable when Vera had pushed Venn away.

The door to the suite opened and Serene swept inside, followed by Cardon and Wilf. Everyone rose from their seats, and Serene threw her arms around Vera. “Thank the fates you’re all right,” the princess said. Then she hugged Venn. “We’ve all been so worried. Desfan sent out men to try and locate you.”

“We had to make a slight detour,” Venn said. “It took a little longer than expected.”

Serene stepped back. “Tell us everything.”

Once everyone was settled, Venn began their tale, with Vera chiming in occasionally. Clare knew they were leaving some details out, but she wasn’t worried—she could get the story of their rekindled romance later. For the moment, she listened as intently as the rest of them while Venn told them how he and Vera had left Krid only to stumble upon three young Devendran children in desperate need.

The love Venn and Vera felt for the children was obvious, and Clare felt a flicker of fear for their fates, since they weren’t here. But that fear was quickly assuaged when Vera assured them the children had been returned to their father—a man named David Holm—and they were all safe in Salvation, a refugee camp for Devendrans that had been established outside the walls of a Mortisian city called Zahdir.

As their story unfolded, it quickly became clear that things in Eyrinthia were dire.

Refugees were fleeing Devendra to escape the Hunt, an organization led by Prince Grandeur. The military group specialized in apprehending anyone suspected of rebel activity or association. Arrests, torture, wrongful imprisonment . . . the stories turned Clare’s stomach.

Venn and Vera also told them about the animosity they’d witnessed—and experienced—between Zennorians and Devendrans. They’d heard rumors that many refugees who fled into Zennor’s northern jungles were never seen or heard from again. The Devendrans they’d met on the road were extremely distrustful of any Zennorian; even Venn, who was only half-Zennorian, and been attacked for nothing more than his lineage.

The more they spoke of Salvation—the camp that should have been a refuge—the more Clare felt herself pale. It hadn’t been a sanctuary at all, but a trap used by the Hunt to capture any rebels who had fled to Mortise for safety.

“We rid the camp of the corrupt leaders,” Venn told them. “And we left a good man in charge, named Zander Fellnor. But I carry a letter from him to you, Princess, and to the serjah—well,serjan, now. Zander is asking for assistance.”

“Of course,” Serene said. Her expression was inscrutable, but Clare knew her well enough now to see her tension, as well as her racing thoughts. “I will personally talk with Desfan and plead our needs.”

Ourneeds. Once again, Serene was proving to be a devoted princess. Those refugees had fled Devendra, but she still considered them hers.

Cardon muttered a curse. “How can Grandeur do this?”

“He’s changed,” Wilf said, his voice a deep rumble. “He isn’t the boy he once was,” he continued, his words reminding them all that he’d once been Grandeur’s bodyguard. “He’s taken on his father’s fears and anxieties.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Cardon said. “He’s breaking laws laid out in the Garvins Treaty. Conducting a military operation in a foreign land—especially without the approval of the reigning monarch—is strictly forbidden. It’s grounds for war.”

“I don’t think Grandeur cares about breaking any laws,” Venn said, his expression darkening. “The prince has condoned torture of innocents and torn apart families. I don’t know if he’s mad with power, or just simply mad, but he must be stopped. I don’t know how much the king knows of his activities, but Newlan must be informed.”

“I’ll write to my father,” Serene said.

“You need to tell him everything,” Vera said. “Including the fires.”

Clare jolted at that word. “Fires?”

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