Rix’s emotions scrambled, flashing too quickly to accurately read. “Yes,” he said.
Old hurt flared. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She’d cried for Tiras. On sleepless nights, haunted by nightmares, she’d clung to Rix and she’d asked him why Tiras had left her.
Rix had never said a word about this.
He eyed her now, looking sick. “You don’t understand. The night Tiras brought you home . . .”
She nearly stopped breathing. This was a night she and Rix had never talked about. Not once. She’d been seven years old. Snared by Tiras’s manipulation, she’d hardly been aware of anything. Because he’d cut off her emotions. Forced her to disengage from her own mind and body so she wouldn’t relive their mother’s murder—or the savage deaths of the knights who’d killed her.
Rix’s fingers curled into her shoulders. “Tiras had you at his mercy. You wouldn’t even look at me when I called your name. And when I tried to hold you in my arms, he stopped me.”
“Why?”
Old grief and helplessness churned inside him. “He said he needed to make sure I wasn’t the one who’d sent the knights after you.”
Her eyes widened. “But . . . our father betrayed us. Tiras knew that.”
“I think he wanted to make sure I’d had no part in it.” Rix glanced away, but not fast enough to hide the moisture in his eyes. “He told me what happened. That my sister was dead. That you’d almost died, too.” A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Tiras wanted revenge. He said both of you deserved it.” Finally, he looked back at her. “He was going to hunt down Ferrin and kill him. And he was going to take you with him.”
Shock enveloped her. “Why?”
Rix swallowed hard. “He said that, since you were forced to wear your mother’s blood, you should get to wear your father’s, too.”
Nausea swam in her gut. Now it was her turn to look away. She had no memory of any of this, but her skin was crawling. “How did you stop him?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. Because even though Tiras had only been twelve years old, Rix would have been no match for his empathic nephew.
“I didn’t stop him,” Rix said grimly. “Ibeggedhim. Dropped to my knees and pleaded with him to look at you. To see what he’d done.” Old pain raked through him. “You were standing there in a torn and bloodied nightgown. Your bare feet were shredded by the miles you’d walked, because he didn't think to get you shoes. And your eyes were so vacant . . .” He shook his head, as if that could dislodge the memory. “I was desperate. I couldn’t lose you.” Torment filled him as he met her gaze. “I know your mother loved him, but I swear, I would have killed him if he’d tried to take you from me.”
They both knew he would have failed.
Amryn’s stomach knotted. “But you convinced him to let me stay with you.”
“Somehow. Some flicker of humanity must have remained in him. I managed to convince him that he couldn’t give you the care you needed. I begged him to leave you in my care.” A flicker of guilt. “And yes, I did tell him not to come back. I told him you would be better off without him. He was already possessive of you—I feared how that would grow if he remained in your life.”
While hurt remained, she couldn’t summon any anger at Rix. Not when she knew he was probably right.
His voice was softer than before as he said, “He told me if I failed to protect you, he would come back for you. And that he’d kill me in retribution.”
Ice filled Amryn’s veins at the reminder. But at least she understood a little better why Tiras wanted her now—he’d never wanted to let go of her in the first place. A chilling thought, all on its own.
“He must have learned about Esperance,” Rix murmured. “Heard your name listed among the Chosen. Whether he knows I escorted you there myself or not, he clearly considers our deal broken.”
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m not going to let him hurt you.”
Rix said nothing, but she knew what they were both thinking.
If Tiras decided to kill Rix, Amryn wouldn’t be able to stop him.
Chapter 50
Carver
DinnerwentaboutasCarver expected. Alora and Elowen tried to keep the conversation flowing while Keene cracked jokes and Wren and Fowler remained oblivious to the tension in the room. Cregon said little. Rix said even less. Torin made attempts at polite conversation, but the looks he kept sending Carver made it clear he didn’t like any of this.
Amryn kept biting her lip, casting glances at her uncle. She’d taken the seat beside Carver, much to his relief. Wren had claimed the chair on Amryn’s other side, so Rix was seated across from them. His attention seemed torn between watching Amryn and glaring at Carver.
He knew a conversation was coming with Rix, and he had no idea what he was going to say. But he needed to make peace with Amryn’s guardian. Even if it looked like Rix would prefer to use his steak knife on Carver.
After dinner, they all moved into the sitting room. Fowler and Wren pulled Amryn into a game of dice. They even invited Torin to join in.
