Venn took the empty seat across from Vera, and with only one look she knew he would have questions later.
“You shouldn’t have asked him questions,” Venn said, his voice quiet in the darkened room.
They sat on the floor by the room’s only window, silvery moonlight spilling over them. They were on the second floor of the inn, and Finn and Sarah slept on the room’s only bed. Vera held Rebecca, who slept soundly after being fed. “If we don’t ask questions, how are we going to learn what’s going on?” she asked in a whisper.
Venn’s brow creased. “Zander could have been a threat. He still might be.”
“I don’t think so. He seemed genuine.”
“Regardless, these are strange times.Dangeroustimes. He may have resented being asked anything.”
“True, but I think he was sincere.” She pursed her lips. “So much about his story doesn’t make sense, though. Why would King Newlan condone such horrific actions?”
“Maybe he doesn’t know. Or perhaps he’s desperate enough to crush the rebellion that he doesn’t care who is hurt. I’ve heard some men say that King Newlan has never truly gotten over the civil war—that Ivar Carrigan’s betrayal, and the betrayal of all who followed him, is a wound he never healed from. He might have chosen to strike the rebels, and strike them hard.”
“But entire families being murdered?” Vera shook her head. “Even if Zander’s son was a rebel, there’s no excuse for killing his family.”
“The fire could have been a coincidence,” Venn murmured. “If Zander could have confirmed it was the Hunt, he would have given evidence.”
“You’re not convinced of that.”
Venn sighed. “No, I suppose I’m not. But it’s hard to believe things in Devendra could have devolved so dramatically. We haven’t been gone that long.”
“I’ve been thinking about Grandeur,” Vera said. “Do you remember when he joined us for a short while on the princess’s tour? He was on his way to Lythe, to inspect the army at the military outpost. But the king had also put him in charge of hunting the rebels.”
“I’d forgotten that part of it,” Venn admitted. “But to create an all-new military force—the Hunt? That seems overdone. The prince should be using the city guard to look for traitors. And nothing should be done on his authority, only the king’s.”
“Isn’t it possible that Grandeur’s power has gone to his head?”
Venn’s dark eyebrows tugged together. “Yes, it’s possible. But even in the darkest days after the civil war, Newlan never condoned the killing of a traitor’s family.”
“What if Newlan isn’t aware?”
“It’s possible, but not probable. Not if this many people are fleeing Devendra. And even if the Hunt isn’t openly killing families . . . the house fire Zander told us of is a strange coincidence.”
Vera huffed out a breath. “All of this is strange. The increase in refugees. The hostility toward you on the road. The fact that there’s an entire refugee camp in the heart of Mortise.” She shook her head. “Maybe we can learn more there. Serene will want to know.”
Venn nodded his agreement.
Vera glanced toward the children sleeping on the bed beside them. “If we can’t find their father . . . Venn, I can’t leave them with strangers.”
“We won’t.” he said, softly but firmly. “We’ll try to find him in Zahdir, or at least try to learn his fate. But if we can’t find him, we’ll take the children with us to Duvan.” He glanced down at the infant cradled in her arms. “I’ve been thinking we should maybe stay here another night,” he added. “I thought it could be good for the children to rest a little, and the innkeeper told me there’s a healer in town. Maybe he can look over Rebecca, make sure she’s well.”
“That’s a good idea. We could use more supplies as well.”
Venn’s dark fingers reached out to skate gently over the baby’s downy hair. “She’s a strong girl,” he whispered. “All three of them are so strong, to have lost so much.” He shook his head, his voice even quieter than before as he said, “No child should have to be this strong.”
“You lost your father as a child,” she said quietly.
“Yes, but it wasn’t anything like how they lost their mother. And I barely have any memory of him—I was too young.”
“Do you remember anything about him?” she asked.
Venn frowned, his eyes going distant. “I think what I remember is more of a feeling, than an actual memory. I know he held me, and I sometimes think I remember the warmth of that. The security.” He shot Vera a thin smile. “I learned not to talk about him around my mother. She’s the strongest woman I know, but there was always a . . . sadness, I guess. But a hard sadness. I didn’t want to hurt her, so I stopped asking questions a long time ago. I know he was a soldier, and that they met while he served at the border. He brought her home to Iden when his outpost duty was finished, but he still left often. My older sister remembers him better than I do. She said he would stay with us for weeks, sometimes, but that usually he would come and go in the night. He worked at the palace for a while, I think.”
The past faded from his eyes as he focused back on Vera, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I know my mother didn’t want me to become a soldier, but she knew how badly I wanted it. She arranged to have me attend the military academy, probably in hopes that I’d decide to be an officer instead. Safer that way, you know. She wasn’t thrilled when I told her I was going to be a royal bodyguard, but she was proud of me when it happened. And I think she liked that it kept me close to home, at least.”
“Not at the moment,” Vera pointed out.
