“Yes, and maybe he is, but . . .” Vera looked to David. “Was that James Rubin?”
“I can’t say for certain, of course,” David said carefully. “But Idohave a friend named James, and I know he journeyed to Halbrook recently. I can also guarantee that the princess’s safety would have been his first priority.”
Venn’s forehead creased. “This would be easier if you’d just tell us everything.”
“Perhaps. But not necessarily safer. And I can’t do anything to further endanger my children. Please understand.”
He did. He respected that, even. But he still wanted confirmation. “Is there anything else you can tell me about this rebel group you’re not necessarily a part of?”
“Just that the princess has nothing to fear from them.” He hesitated, then added, “And, when you do see the princess, could you please let her know that Devendra needs her? Let her know that there are many who will stand with her. Let her know that she is the hope of many. And . . . please protect her.”
“I will.” Venn’s head tipped to the side. “Perhaps you should come with us to Duvan and meet with her yourself.”
David shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t. Once I’ve healed . . . I’m needed elsewhere.”
“What about your children?” Vera asked, worry pinching her tone.
“They’ll be protected. I have friends who can help guard them.”
“They would be safe with us in Duvan,” Vera said.
The skin around David’s eyes tightened. “I don’t think Duvan is all that safe.”
Venn’s instincts hummed. “What do you know?”
“Nothing. At least, nothing I’m certain of. I would warn you of specifics if I had them, but danger haunts the princess in the best of times. And with the serjan dead, I think Serjah Desfan will find new enemies who don’t want him permanently on the throne.”
Unfortunately, that all sounded true.
“Do you know anything about what’s been happening in Zennor?” Venn asked.
“The disappearances?” When Venn nodded, David Holm sighed. “Unfortunately, all I know is that it’s happening. I don’t know why, or who is responsible, but . . . it doesn’t bode well.”
No, it did not.
David stood, cradling Rebecca close. “I must return to Finn and Sarah. Thank you again for all you’ve done for them.”
Once they were alone, Vera let out a slow breath. “Considering what we’ve seen here, perhaps having a group of rebels fighting against Grandeur isn’t such a bad thing.”
Venn grunted. “Perhaps not.”
But battles were always messy, and it wasn’t always the soldiers who got hurt. Especially during a civil war—which was exactly what they seemed headed for.
They lingered at the camp for three days before Venn said they needed to leave. Salvation seemed stable enough, with Zander in command. The weekly taxes had stopped, the entrance fees had been eliminated, and Venn doubted anyone who was affiliated with the Hunt was still within the camp’s borders.
Venn and Vera packed their things, but before they left their tent, Venn wrapped a hand around her wrist and tugged her close.
The question in her gaze faded as he ducked his head and captured her lips with his own. He reveled in the feel of her hands against his chest, the warmth and softness of her mouth. He couldn’t help but deepen the kiss, drawing it out. His fingers sank into her hair, the blonde strands spilling over his hands in a gentle wave. Every hitch in her breath, every new angle her lips found to explore his—it fascinated him. Excited him. Humbled him.
When he finally drew back, they both breathed hard. Color suffused her cheeks, and her half-smile was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “What was that for?” she asked.
“My lips were lonely.”
She chuckled. “What about the kiss you woke me with?”
He rounded his eyes. “That was nearly anhourago.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
