His eyes flicked to Amryn, where she sat on the balcony between Berron and Elowen.
“I’ll watch her,” Cregon murmured. “No one will hurt her. I swear it.”
Carver’s chest rose and fell too quickly. He needed to clean his hands before he could touch Amryn. He also knew he needed to get away from his father’s scrutinizing gaze before he fell apart. He swallowed hard. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“I won’t,” his father vowed.
Carver sent one last look at Amryn before he turned on his heel and marched to the washroom. He closed the door, noting the flecks of dried crimson that clung to the wood after he’d touched it. His hands were shaking. He didn’t think it was from adrenaline anymore.
He turned to face the basin, not bothering to pour in fresh water as he sank his bloody hands into the shallow bowl.
“You just killed him in cold blood because that’s what you are. A cold-blooded killer!”
His hands curled to fists, tendrils of red rippling out to stain the water. He could face more blood on his hands, if it meant Amryn was safe.
He just wasn’t brave enough to face himself in the mirror.
Chapter 33
Amryn
Elowendrewtheblankettighter around Amryn’s shoulders, even though the air on the balcony wasn’t cold.
There was an undeniable chill in Amryn’s blood, though.
“Are you sure you’re feeling better?” Carver’s sister asked, clearly fretting. “I can send for the physician. He might have something to help settle your stomach.”
“No, I’m fine.” Truthfully, Amryn was still trembling. The attack had been terrifying. She didn’t even know what had woken her, though she suspected it had been the bloodstone. She’d hidden it in her bedside table for the night, but she could have sworn she’d felt a sudden swell of alarm, so strong it had alerted her to the threat entering their room. Screaming had been instinct. The moment she’d felt the cold, killing calm creeping closer . . .
She shuddered at the memory.
She still didn’t fully understand how the bloodstone worked. It was sentient, at least to some degree, since it could choose to warn her of danger even if she wasn’t holding it. But to actually utilize its power, it seemed she needed to have contact with it. Touching it directly was her instinct, but even just in her pocket it had helped shield her from the knights. If she’d worn it to sleep, maybe she could have used it to mute the pain of those deaths.
Nausea swirled.
“Do you need some more water?” Elowen asked. She’d already fetched Amryn one glass, which she’d forced herself to drink.
“No, thank you.”
Berron sat in the wrought-iron chair beside her, watching her closely. He’d said nothing since Elowen had joined them outside, but he hadn’t left, which surprised her. She could feel his unease. He didn’t want to be under scrutiny. She wondered if it had to do with the fact he didn’t have his eyepatch. He’d allowed his long hair to fall into his face, but it clearly wasn’t enough of a mask to make him comfortable.
Amryn was so grateful he’d heard the fight. That even though things between him and Carver were strained, he’d come to help. She was especially grateful he’d stayed by her side in the aftermath. She didn’t like what he’d said to Carver, however. She’d felt how deeply those words had cut him.
She glanced up, looking into their suite. She was searching for Carver, but she saw Cregon first, speaking with one of the palace guards. The bodies were gone, and a couple of servants were still scrubbing blood from the floor. One rug was already rolled up, unsalvageable.
Amryn swallowed back another surge of bile.
Then she realized Carver wasn’t in the room. Her heartbeat quickened. She tried to feel for him, but it was difficult with so many people around and her own emotions so frayed. It might have been easier if she’d had the bloodstone, but it was still tucked away in the bedside table. Anxiety spiked. “Where’s Carver?”
She must have spoken loudly enough to garner Cregon’s attention. He moved to the open balcony doors. “He’s just washing up,” he said, clearly trying to soothe her. “He’ll be back soon.”
Amryn felt a blinding stab of guilt and shame, mingled with self-loathing. She immediately recognized it as coming from Carver. She pushed to her feet, letting the blanket that Elowen had wrapped around her fall. “I need to go to him.”
Cregon’s lips pressed into a line. “I think he needs a moment alone.”
“No. That’s the last thing he needs.” She stepped around Cregon, crossing the brightly lit room. She reached for the handle of the bathing chamber door but paused at the last second. She knocked instead. “Carver?”
There was a harsh silence. A sudden clamping down of his emotions. “I’ll be out in a moment. Stay with my father.”
