A yell outside cut her off, and the carriage lurched to a stop. The rain continued to beat against the roof, but Amryn could just make out the creaking of the other carriage coming to a halt behind them. Horses chuffed and whickered in protest, and shouting voices rose.
Amryn tensed. She didn’t feel a threat, but she didn’t trust herself when she was surrounded by so many people. Emotions blurred too easily, making it difficult to pick out anything specific. But she did feel an edge of annoyance. A slice of disappointment. And a low but growing alarm.
Her pulse quickened. The incessant churning in her belly didn’t help her feel any better about what she was sensing from those outside the carriage.
She searched for Carver, and a wave of relief washed over her when she brushed up against his familiar emotions. The better she knew a person, the more easily she could discern what they were feeling, even in a crowd. Right now? Carver burned with irritation.
“Why have we stopped?” Mira asked, alarm coloring the maid’s voice. “It isn’t time for the midday meal yet, surely?”
Ahmi leaned toward the nearest window, her fingers swiftly unpicking the knot that secured the canvas flap.
Jayveh’s nausea spiked, making Amryn’s own stomach roll.
“I’m going to be sick,” the princess gasped. She fumbled for the latch on the carriage door, one hand clapped over her mouth as she gagged.
“Princess, wait!” Mira cried. She scrambled from her seat, reaching for the princess’s discarded cloak; they’d all shrugged them off the moment they’d settled in the carriage that morning.
Jayveh did not wait. She shoved the door open and all but fell out of the carriage, already doubled over and throwing up.
“Jayveh!” Amryn fought the urge to retch right along with her friend, even as she leapt down beside her.
The pouring rain slammed into Amryn and she sucked in a breath. The rain wasn’t particularly cold, but it was heavy. She was drenched in seconds, struggling to breathe against the punishing weight of the onslaught.
She staggered once before finding her footing on the muddy road. She wrapped an arm around Jayveh, who rocked into her as she continued to heave.
From her periphery, Amryn saw two of Jayveh’s bodyguards swing down from their horses and rush forward. Their alarm knifed through Amryn.
She also felt Carver’s panic.
“Amryn!” His hand landed on the small of her back, then slid until his arm encircled her. “Get back inside!” he shouted over the rain.
“Jayveh’s sick!” Her words were hardly necessary, since Jayveh was still throwing up.
Carver’s hold on her tightened. “What’s wrong?”
“Morning sickness,” Amryn explained quickly, feeling his spike of dread and wanting to assuage his fear that something was truly wrong with Jayveh.
There was a tug of sympathy deep in his chest, then Carver moved to Jayveh’s other side, helping to brace her. Amryn shouldn’t have been surprised that he would stay. That he’d hold Jayveh without flinching, even as she retched. His innate kindness and selfless compassion had shocked her once, but they were part of why she’d fallen in love with him.
Jayveh’s guards hovered nearby, watching anxiously and helplessly as the princess’s vomiting continued.
Amryn closed her eyes, her grip on Jayveh tightening. Her gift of healing wasn’t one she used often, but it was easy enough to isolate the roiling in Jayveh’s gut and pull it into herself. Her own nausea increased, but she felt Jayveh’s decrease in response. She didn’t completely understand how it all worked. Her mother had died before Amryn was old enough to ask her detailed questions, and her uncle had only been able to explain so much, since he wasn’t an empath. Amryn knew there were limits—her mother had been clear on that—just as she knew that any hurt or sickness she took on would be fleeting.
However brief, she still felt the pain of it. In this case, she felt a rush of heat invade her cheeks, her mouth filled with saliva, her palms dampened, and her stomachlurched. She hadn’t taken all of Jayveh’s sickness, but she’d dulled it enough that her vomiting ceased, and the princess was finally able to catch her breath.
Jayveh trembled as Mira threw a cloak over her. Carver helped the maid secure it, then he guided Jayveh to sit in the open doorway of the carriage. It wasn’t a perfect shelter from the storm, but it was something.
Ahmi appeared with Amryn’s cloak, which she took gratefully, though she only slung it over her shoulders. Her hair was already soaked, and she didn’t want to block the slight breeze that teased her skin. It helped temper the waves of nausea still rippling inside her. It also helped to move a few steps away from the pile of vomit on the road.
Carver crouched before Jayveh, holding one of her hands. “Deep breaths. You’re all right.” He glanced over at her guards, who still hovered nearby. “Set up a perimeter.”
They nodded and vanished into the misty rain.
“Why did we stop?” Jayveh asked, her voice a little raw.
Frustration bled through Carver as he said, “The road is washed out up ahead. We’re stuck here for the moment.”
Mira came forward with some water, which Jayveh accepted gratefully. As she rinsed her mouth, Carver straightened.
