Rhone cast him a look, and Carver knew they were both perfectly aware of the truth.
Neither of them was as indifferent as they were pretending to be.
The corner of Rhone’s lip twitched. “You have the curiosity of a knight, Carver.”
“No. I have the curiosity of a general.”
Rhone chuckled. “Perhaps. We fight in different ways, but the goal is the same—the defense of the innocent and the protection of the empire.”
Except when it came down to it, Carver answered to the emperor and Rhone answered to the Holy Superior of the Church. That alone made them fundamentally different. Also, Carver did all he could to protect the innocent, while Rhone hunted them indiscriminately.
They entered the bustling square. There were the usual hagglers and shoppers, as well as musicians and other street performers. Clusters of people choked the entire square. Carver had no idea how he’d find Amryn, but he instinctively started scanning the crowd for fiery red hair.
Rhone straightened beside him, both of them pausing as a handcart laden with crates of grapes rolled in front of them. “Prince Samuel recounted his miraculous healing during his interview, but when I asked him about it the other day, he recalled more. Specifically, how itfelt.” Rhone’s brow grew lined as they resumed walking. “The wound was knit unnaturally, of course. That alone felt strange.Wrong. But he said he sensed a shift in the healing, toward the end. It changed from an overall feeling of warmth to something sinister. He knew in that moment that, just as easily as his body was repaired, it could have been torn apart again.”
The back of Carver’s neck prickled. Had Samuel somehow felt the bloodstone overtaking Amryn’s will? That could explain the menacing edge he’d detected. Carver hadn’t felt anything sinister when Amryn had healed him of Tam’s poison. Mostly, Carver remembered feeling panic. It had grabbed hold the moment he realized Amryn was somehow pulling the deadly poison into herself. He’d felt fear, too. That she was saving him, at the expense of herself, had terrified him. But Samuel’s wound had been far more grievous. Perhaps it had taken longer to heal, so he’d had more of a chance to feel the bloodstone as it had taken more and more from Amryn.
Carver knew Rhone was waiting for a response. He cleared his throat. “What do you think could cause such a shift?” he asked.
“There are a few possibilities. We already know the empath is dangerously powerful. Most healings I’m aware of must be done in immediate proximity—through touch. And yet, all in the temple were healed at the same time. That is unprecedented strength.Terrifyingstrength. It’s possible Samuel was simply reacting to the inherent threat in such immense power.” Rhone’s mouth tightened. “If the empath was Tam, the ominous feeling also makes sense. But the healing itself doesn’t, since it was one of her men that stabbed Samuel.” He shook his head. “It’s possible there were multiple empaths in the temple, though that still doesn’t explain the absolute power. Unless . . .”
Carver glanced at him. “Unless what?”
Rhone released a breath. “There is another explanation. It delves into lore that few even . . .” His voice trailed off, his eyes sharpening.
Carver tensed. Not just from Rhone’s words—Saints, was he about to talk about the bloodstones?—but because the knight had stiffened.
He followed Rhone’s gaze, cutting through the laughing crowd to see a man skirting its outskirts, headed for an alleyway across the square. There was nothing about the man’s clothes that drew the eye, but his skulking gait didn’t fit the mood of the others in the market. Alertness shot through Carver. “Do you recognize him?”
“No,” Rhone said. Like Carver, he’d merely seen the man and felt an instinctual suspicion. The man might be nothing more than a petty thief. No one truly dangerous. But pickpockets lost themselves in crowds, while this man was avoiding them. Simple observation screamed he was up to nothing good.
The man stopped at the mouth of the distant alley, joining a woman who had been waiting in the shadows. A woman who turned for the briefest of instants, and Carver froze. It had been a mere flash. The swing of a long black braid. The curve of a dark cheek. But even that short glimpse of her profile was a punch to his gut.
Tam.
The man shifted in front of her in the next second, blocking her from view. If it had been her at all.
“What?” Rhone asked.
Carver realized his hands were fists, his body coiled tight. His reaction had been immediate and visceral. Fury throbbed in each heavy heartbeat. All he could see were the images that had haunted his nightmares. Argent, tortured. Dead. Because of him.
No. Because ofher.
“Tam.” The name hissed from between clenched teeth.
Rhone’s entire demeanor hardened. There was no mistaking his rage as he heard the name of his brother’s murderer. “Where?” the knight ground out.
Carver just started walking, sidestepping anyone who got in his way.
Rhone shouldered to his side, though he still followed Carver’s lead through the square. “Are you certain it was her?” the knight asked.
Yes.But the glimpse had been fleeting, and reason insisted he admit, “I don’t know. But I think so.”
Rhone growled low in his throat. “Why would she risk coming to Zagrev? She has to know she’s the most wanted criminal in the empire.”
Carver didn’t care about her reasoning; he was just intent on capturing her. But her association with the suspicious man pointed at one possibility. “She could bemeeting with a rebel contact.” Perhaps to get help in disappearing. She had to know how vehemently she was being hunted.
The crowd parted just enough to allow him a glimpse of the alley’s mouth. The woman was angled away from him, her hands gesturing wildly as she faced the man. He said something in return, then strode deeper into the alley, disappearing from view. Before following him, the slim woman turned, as if to make sure she wasn’t being followed. And in that moment, there was no doubt. Carver would never forget that face. A woman he had once felt pity for.
