Curiosity bloomed. “Is it part of your gift?”
When Amryn hesitated, Ysabel bit her lower lip. “It isn’t. But it can’t be taught, can it?”
“No.”
Ysabel was still sitting on her cushion, the various braids in her tangled bun glinting in the sunlight that filtered through the vent above them. As she peered up at Amryn, her unease was clear. “It has something to do with the darkness in you, doesn’t it?”
A chill skated over Amryn’s skin. She didn’t answer, but her silence was answer enough.
Ysabel frowned. “You need to be careful, Amryn. Whatever I’m sensing inside you . . . it’s insidious.Dangerous. If you do not find a way to remove it, I fear it will overtake you completely.”
The square was too bright and too loud after the quiet of Ysabel’s tent. Amryn squinted as she made her way to Elowen’s side. She was unsettled, and the bloodstone had never felt heavier around her neck.
“How was it?” Elowen asked, a smile on her face.
“It was . . . fine.”
“You mean it was a farce,” Ford grunted.
Ivan’s attention remained firmly on Amryn, his concern swelling. “Are you all right?”
He saw far too much. Amryn forced a smile. “Of course. You should take your turn.”
Ivan looked uncertain, but when Elowen encouraged him, he ducked into the tent.
Elowen and Ford spoke lightly, bickering without heat as they clearly resumed an earlier conversation. Amryn let her eyes wander over the square, Ysabel’s warning ringing in her ears.
Amryn knew the bloodstone was dangerous, but she didn’t have a choice. If she stopped using it, Rhone would realize what she was.
She was using it for more than that, though. Every day, it became easier to rely on the bloodstone. To use it to mute the emotions she didn’t want to feel and toenhance the ones shedidwant to pick out of a crowd. Sudden guilt pooled in her stomach. She’d promised Carver she wouldn’t use the bloodstone beyond what was necessary. It was a promise she wanted to keep.
She eased back the shield the bloodstone had helped her make—and nearly buckled under the weight of the crowd’s rioting emotions. A spike of joy at finding an item to buy. A jolt of victory at making a sale. Needles of jealousy as someone watched the woman he wanted dance with another. The sharp desperation of thieves. The awful pangs of hunger. Anger. Grief. Determination. Sorrow. Frustration. She felt it all.
She pinched her eyes closed, her breaths thready as she pulled the bloodstone’s protective shield back into place. The peace was instantaneous.
She shivered, her throat going dry. She had no idea if it was the sheer size of the crowd that had made things so painful, or if she’d become too dependent on the bloodstone. What if she was losing her ability to handle the onslaught of emotions on her own? Her skin crawled at the thought. What if using the bloodstone was weakening some part of her?
A low, off-key hum came from the amulet around her neck. It almost felt like the bloodstone was irritated.
Amryn’s palms dampened, but she clenched her fingers around her fan.
Later. She’d try to drop the bloodstone’s shield later, when she wasn’t surrounded by hundreds of strangers—
“Ryn.”
Despite the heat of the day, ice drenched her veins at the soft whisper of that long-ago name. Of thatvoice. Deeper than she’d ever heard it, yet still somehow familiar.
It had come from right behind her.
A tremble began in her legs as she slowly twisted to face the man she recognized instantly, even though he’d been a mere boy the last time she’d seen him.
Dark hair. Green eyes a shade darker than her own. A jaw that was angled sharply, similar to their father’s. Strength exuded from him, even as he stood in stillness before her. Watching her. Waiting.
The tremble was in her lips now. It infiltrated her voice as she whispered her brother’s name. “Tiras.”
Chapter 38
Carver
