A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Apparently the emperor invited the Amins to the palace after he returned from Esperance. He wanted to tell them in person about Cora’s death, as well as Kian’s.”
His words easily brought back the memory of the disastrous wedding feast in Esperance, where Cora’s brother, Kian—among others—had attacked the emperor and the Chosen. He had been executed while they all watched. And Cora had been murdered soon after. Sorrow for the Amins rose swiftly. To lose both their children in such violent ways was unimaginable.
“They’ve been staying at the palace as the emperor’s guests ever since,” Ivan said. He shook his head, the ends of his blond hair brushing his sharp cheekbones. “I intended to visit them when I returned to Sibet, to assure them Cora had beenavenged. It is a bitter comfort, perhaps, but the only one I could think to offer them.”
“That’s very good of you,” Amryn said. Saints, Ivan had more kindness in him than most would suspect.
The skin around his eyes tightened. “I did not expect them to be here. But it is my duty to speak with them."
With the bloodstone muting the emotions of others in the room, it was easy enough to pinpoint his nervousness. “I’ll come with you,” she offered.
Surprise arrowed through him. “You would do that?”
“Yes. If you’d like me there.”
His relief was so strong, she felt it like a punch. “Yenn. Please.” His ice blue eyes warmed. “Thank you.”
Amryn followed him through the crowd. The emperor’s steward had apparently pointed out Cora’s parents, which was how Ivan could recognize them in the crowd. As they made their way across the room, Amryn spotted Samuel and Sadia. Her blood chilled when she saw they were speaking with Rhone Quinn. She quickly averted her gaze from the knight. She didn’t want to chance catching his gaze and risk having any sort of conversation with him. Her interview with his father had been enough interaction with the knights.
The bloodstone, hidden beneath the collar of her dress, vibrated gently against her skin. A reminder that the shield around her was firmly in place. Still, she was grateful when Ivan shifted to keep his body between her and Rhone.
Moments later, they stopped in front of a middle-aged man and woman standing near the edge of the room. They were dressed regally, and Amryn suddenly remembered Cora’s mother was a princess, sister to the king of Hafsin. The woman was older, but still very pretty, even with the slight gauntness in her cheeks and the dullness in her eyes. Despite the age difference, her resemblance to Cora was startling. She even seemed to share Cora’s more timid personality. Her gaze drifted over them, not quite meeting their eyes. Her sorrow and anguish clung to her like a heavy shroud, smothering every other emotion.
Cora’s father didn’t seem much better off. He stood beside his wife, but the wineglass in his hand trembled. His grief was carved into his face, lining his skin prematurely. Amryn wondered how many of his white hairs had appeared since losing his son and daughter.
He, at least, met their gazes.
“You may not know me, Lord Amin,” Ivan said by way of greeting, his voice gentler than Amryn could ever remember hearing it. “But I am—”
“I know who you are.” Cora’s father’s flatly spoken words hung between them, a clear accusation wrapped in scathing condemnation.
Amryn stiffened, the sharp blade of the man’s rage slicing deep.
The stringed music drifting from the corner of the room seemed out of place in this tense circle, but Ivan met the challenge without flinching. “I wanted to offer my deepest condolences for the loss of your daughter. And for your son.” He waited, but there was no response from the Amins. Cora’s father simply stared, while his wife didn’t even seem aware of them.
Amryn’s heart ached for them. And for Ivan, who was unsure of how to proceed.
He cleared his throat. “Cora had a beautiful soul. I was fortunate to have known her, even for a short time. The world is a darker place without her light.”
Cora’s mother finally stirred. Her eyes slid to Ivan’s, the listlessness in her expression enough to make Amryn shiver. “You didn’t know her. You were a stranger to her. A husband in name only. A man she didn’t choose or want.”
Ivan’s throat flexed as he swallowed. “I regret that I will never truly know her. But even if we were little more than strangers when she died, I can still mourn her loss.”
Cora’s mother’s gaze sharpened. “Your mourning is a mockery of our own,” she snapped.
“Sofina,” her husband murmured.
The woman shuddered, as if she could not stand his gentle tone. She glanced away from them all, blankness overtaking her expression once more.
Ivan was still as stone beside Amryn. “I do not mean to cause you any more pain. I only wished to assure you that I avenged Cora’s death. I killed her murderer, so her spirit can know peace in the afterlife.”
Sofina Amin looked at Ivan, her expression unreadable. But her pain . . . that cut deeply. Without a word, she turned on her heel and walked away, her long skirt trailing over the stone floor behind her.
Lord Amin’s mouth thinned. His fierce grief stabbed through the bloodstone’s muting effect, making Amryn’s heart constrict. “My wife is but a shell of who she was,” he said, his voice so full of emotion it cracked. “Our children were her one true joy, and my sole purpose. We are empty without them.” He took a step back, a new edge entering his voice as he stared at Ivan. “Do not seek us out again. We do not want your empty words, or your useless vengeance. We cannot forgive youfor having our daughter’s final hours in this world when we did not. Just leave us to our grief. It’s all we have left.” He strode away, moving in the same direction his wife had gone.
Ivan’s face was horribly blank. But beneath the surface, his pain and guilt tangled.
Amryn reached out and took Ivan’s hand, squeezing once. “They’re in mourning,” she said gently. “They didn’t mean any of that.”
