Amryn patted his bicep, where her palm rested as they danced. “Ivan is a good man.”
Muscles bunched under her hand. “Not good enough for my sister.”
“Would any man be good enough for her?”
His response was caught between a grunt and a huff.
Amryn’s lips twitched. “You can threaten him a little, if that will make you feel better.”
Carver adopted an affronted look. “You don’t think I could scare him away?”
“No,” she said honestly. When he scowled, she added, “You’re very fearsome, but Ivan’s determined. As is your sister.”
He muttered a curse.
Amryn’s lips twitched. They continued to dance, and though Amryn didn’t want to be aware of the passage of time, she knew that soon they would need to part ways.
The rising nerves in Carver made it clear his thoughts followed her own.
“Everything will be fine,” she murmured. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I’m always going to worry about you,” he said softly. “Protecting you will always be my first instinct.” His eyes gentled as he searched hers. “You’re holding my heart in your hands, sweetheart.”
Warmth spread through her chest.
Carver eased her closer, and Amryn went willingly, letting her cheek rest above his heart. Their steps slowed, and the rest of the world melted away.
Until the song ended.
Applause filled the space the music had left behind, a jarring end to their private moment.
Carver drew back, reluctance threading through him. He brushed a kiss against her temple. “Be safe,” he whispered.
“You, too.”
Ivan walked Elowen over to them, and Carver met the prince’s stare. “Don’t leave her side.”
“She will be safe with me,” Ivan assured him.
Carver tightened his grip on Amryn’s hand, then, with obvious difficulty, he slowly released her. Her heart thudded as she watched him make his way around the other dancers, headed for the treasury.
A half hour later, it was Amryn’s turn to leave the garden behind.
Her stomach twisted nervously, but she tried to breathe past her anxieties. Their plan was good. She would be with Carver again soon. And what she did now would ensure Rix and Torin’s safety. While Bram might never forgive her, at least this way he wouldn’t lose his life—or be able to hurt anyone. If he surrendered without a fight, she might even be able to eventually secure his freedom.
Amryn pulled in a slow, bracing breath. The low hum of the bloodstone offered comfort, but when she slipped her hand into her pocket, she chose instead to touch her mother’s prayer coin. She could still feel the imprint of it on her fingertips as she and Ivan met Samuel on the edge of the garden. The Prince of Wendahl was tense, but she felt the determination throbbing inside him. Any misgivings he’d had about betraying the Rising had died after the attack at Market Square. He hadn’t been there, but he’d been sickened by the cruel and senseless violence.
With only one last look toward Sadia—who was under the watchful eye of Hugo, one of Carver’s trusted men—Samuel followed Amryn and Ivan out of the garden.
They entered the palace through a side door and moved through a quiet corridor. The palace seemed strangely vacant, since most everyone was out in the garden. It was almost eerie, walking along the deserted hallways. The palace was so vast, there were still areas she hadn’t explored, but Bram had made sure they’d memorized this path.
Amryn’s pulse thrummed too quickly as they reached a closed door with a faint glow emanating along the floor. According to Bram, the small drawing room was generally forgotten by the nobles and subsequently neglected by the palace staff. That, combined with the fact it was located near the treasury, made it ideal for the Rising’s meeting place tonight.
A single palace guard stood outside. Amryn assumed he was a rebel, even before he greeted them with a nod and wordlessly opened the door for them.
Amryn exchanged a last look with Samuel and Ivan. She could feel their unease. Samuel’s was more anxious, while Ivan’s felt hardened. She forced herself to take a steadying breath before walking into the room.
The space was dimly lit, shadows painting the walls and corners. Long settees and cushioned armchairs were spaced around the room, but none were being used.The air was thick with a restless sort of anticipation. Bram stood in the center of the room, addressing the six men with him. All of them wore the black uniform of the palace guard.
