Prologue
Venn
Devendra
Venn dragged a hand down his face as his boots scuffed the carpeted halls of Lord Francin’s manor. Dawn would break soon, and he was exhausted from being up all night, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not until he saw Vera.
The knuckles on his right hand throbbed. He shouldn’t have hit the Rose. Bennick had invited him to the interrogation in order to keep him from snapping; instead, Venn had been the one to crack under the assassin’s taunts.
But the Rose had nearly killed Vera tonight. He’d attacked Clare and Wilf, too. It was a miracle they were all still breathing, and even acknowledging that fact made Venn’s chest ache. He had no idea how Bennick was coping; the night had been bad enoughbeforelearning the Rose was his half-brother. Venn couldn’t imagine what his friend must be feeling right now.
He rounded the final corner that brought his room into view—the place he’d carried Vera after the Rose’s attack. Two guards stood at attention, and seeing them in place released some of the tension in his shoulders.
He kept his voice low as he approached. “Has the physician been back to check on her?”
The nearest guard answered, his quiet voice strangely loud in the otherwise silent hall. “Yes, about two hours ago. She was awake.”
Relief rushed through him.Thank the fates.
When he’d last seen Vera, she’d been unconscious. The Rose had thrown her across the room, and she had a large knot on the back of her head. Venn had felt utterly useless; all he could do was sit on the bed beside her and hold her limp hand, terrified that each shallow breath would be her last.
He was a soldier. He didn’t do well when the enemy was something he couldn’t fight.
Knowing she’d woken should be enough. He should leave her alone to sleep, and not risk disturbing her.
But he needed to see her with his own eyes. To know for himself that she was really all right.
He stepped past the guards and gently opened the door.
On the far side of the room the curtains were open, letting in the purple-gray light of pre-dawn. Vera was curled in the bed, her back to the door. Her blond hair trailed over the pillow, a haunting reminder of how they’d found Ivonne after the Rose had killed her in Halbrook. But he could hear Vera’s breaths and see each one with the steady rise and fall of the blankets.
He hadn’t lost her. He wouldneverlose her. That was a vow he made to himself, here and now. He would give his last breath for Vera Smallwood, no question. No hesitation. Because he loved her.
He hadn’t confessed the depth of his feelings yet; she’d needed space after her sister’s death. He understood that. It had hurt when she’d distanced herself, when all he wanted to do was hold her, but, fates, he understood. Her pain was still too fresh, too overwhelming. But when she was ready for his comfort, he would be there.
He would always be there for her.
Venn eased the door closed behind him and softly moved across the room. He didn’t want to disturb her, so he didn’t sit on the edge of the bed. Instead, he grabbed a wooden chair from the corner and carried it over. When he set it silently beside the bed, Vera was staring up at him.
His mouth eased into an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I was trying to be quiet.”
Her lips were pressed together, her eyes unblinking. It was the flattest expression he had ever seen on her, and sudden wariness pinched his spine.
He sat on the edge of the chair, his pulse pounding faster as he studied her shielded gaze. “How do you feel? Are you in pain? I can send for the physician.”
“No.” Her voice was low and revealed none of her thoughts.
Venn swallowed dryly. His hands itched to touch her, but instinct screamed that would be a mistake.
He hated that they’d lost their footing since Ivonne’s death. It made all of this so fates-blasted difficult.
He leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, his empty hands dangling. He forced a thin smile. “Clare is safe.”
“The physician told me.”
Her voice had never been so emotionless, and it sounded so wrong; Vera was everything light and cheerful. Her pain at losing her sister had gutted him, but this flatness . . .
It scared him.
