Truthfully, Carver hadn’t thought the Rising capable of such depravity. To kill innocents like they had today . . . It revealed how truly monstrous they were.
He and Rhone shared their report. Hatred shined in the emperor’s eyes as he learned Tam was in Zagrev. “I want her found,” he growled, his knuckles leeched of color as he strangled the arms of his throne.
Carver tensed. Now that he knew the full risk to Amryn if Tam was caught . . . Saints, he wanted justice for Argent, but if the cost was Amryn’s safety—possibly her life—there was no debate about what he’d choose. Which was why his tension only grew as Keats assured the emperor that every city guardsman was looking for Tam, as well as the rebels responsible for today’s attack.
Hector—who had been dutifully recording all of this—spoke for the first time. “Should we arrest Bram right now?”
Morelli frowned. “I would advise against that. We don’t know that he was involved in the attack on the square, but wedoknow he’s at work in the palace. I think it would be better to wait and trap him and his compatriots—including his superior—at the emperor’s ball as planned.”
“When is the tour for the Chosen scheduled?” Carver’s father asked.
“In one week,” Hector said. He knew, since he was the one leading the tour. It was an elaborate ruse, but Amryn, Ivan, and Samuel needed to “discover” where the Dagger of Hafsin was kept.
When the meeting finally concluded—after a good four hours where they debated their next moves, tried to guess what the Rising’s next steps might be, and discussed what reassurances the citizens of Zagrev needed after such a heinous attack—Carver and Cregon left the room together.
The corridors were surprisingly empty. Carver assumed most everyone wanted to be secured behind a locked door tonight, with their loved ones gathered close.
Stars glittered beyond the glass windows they passed. By mutual agreement, they stopped to check in on Ford. He was tired from blood loss, and infection was always a risk, but the physician seemed confident he’d be back on his feet in a couple of weeks. It would take a couple weeks beyond that to regain his full strength, however.
Ford also informed them that Carver’s mother had been by. Cregon was still grumbling about it as they approached Carver’s room. “Blazing Saints,” he muttered. “That woman is going to be the death of me. She’s given me more gray hairs than any of you have.” There were equal parts exasperation and affection in his tone.
As they neared the room, they heard Alora’s voice pouring through the closed door. Carver led the way inside.
He found his mother seated at Amryn’s bedside, struggling to talk through her laughter. “. . . he was completely drenched, mind you, dripping all over my kitchenfloor. And I said, ‘Carver, what by all the Saints happened?’ And he looked me dead in the eye, with a seriousness no seven-year-old should possess, and said, ‘Nothing. Why do you ask?’”
Laughter burst from Amryn, and something in Carver settled as he watched his mother and his wife laugh together.
Amryn wiped at her eyes, which glittered with tears as she struggled to breathe. She caught sight of Carver and laughed harder, her cheeks flushed and her scarlet curls wild around her face. Her beauty struck him once more. He could have stared at her forever, watching her laugh just like that.
“Carver!” His mother straightened in her chair when she caught sight of him, her voice still full of mirth. “And Cregon, my love!”
Carver crossed the room, aware of his father closing the door behind them. He embraced his mother, who had stood to greet him. He set a quick kiss to her cheek. “Father’s cross with you,” he warned.
“Well, I’m cross with him.”
“I can hear you both, you know,” Cregon drawled.
As Carver released his mother, he caught sight of Amryn’s small smile. Though her laughter had faded, her eyes remained bright. He didn’t hesitate to lean down, palming her cheek with one hand as he took her lips in a soft, too brief kiss.
When he pulled back, he saw his mother and father standing before each other.
Cregon set his hands on his hips as he eyed his wife. “I thought I told you to stay home.”
“You did. I just didn’t listen.” She placed a peck on his scowl, then patted his arm. “I brought my knife and four of your best men. I was perfectly safe.” Her eyes narrowed. “Amryn, however, wasnot,as you told me,fine.”
Cregon sighed, letting his arms fall. “She wasn’t in mortal danger—”
“Is that your definition offine?”
His lips pursed. “This is not an argument I’m going to win, is it?”
Alora huffed. “Very astute of you, High General.”
Cregon wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer so he could kiss her.
Carver fought a smile as he took a seat on the chair closest to Amryn. “How long has she been here?” he asked.
“A couple of hours.”
