One of the waiting rebels waved them forward. “Hurry,” he urged, his voice hushed.
Jamir strode forward, his feet crunching against gravel. The rocky path led to a tree-lined wall that towered above them. Amryn’s pulse quickened as she spied the open gate. It was much closer than she’d expected.
She stepped into the warm night air. The floral scents of jasmine and hyssop were a sharp contrast to the mustiness of the prison. Faint strains of distant music floated through the air. On the far side of the palace, people were still dancing at the emperor’s ball, blissfully unaware of what was happening in the shadows around them.
Janson took Amryn’s elbow, guiding her forward. She walked with him, her darting eyes assessing. Jamir was in front of her, along with two rebels. The other three walked behind her and Janson.
Amryn’s palms dampened, her heartbeat thumping an unsteady cadence in her chest. If she was going to run, she needed to do it now. There would not be a better chance, now that she was out in the open and the gate loomed ahead.
Using her thumb, she twisted the ring on her finger, getting it into position.
Janson’s grip on her arm suddenly clenched. “Blazing Saints,” he cursed under his breath.
Amryn followed his gaze.
A shadow wavered beyond the open gate. A person, she realized.
“I told you to wait for us at the city gate,” Janson hissed.
“I didn’t want to risk being left behind.”
Amryn stiffened. It was a voice she’d never forget. A low, smooth tone dripping with cool confidence and edged with disdain.
The slim shadow moved closer, disengaging from the darkness that had hidden her from view. The moonlight illuminated her face, and Amryn’s heart clenched as Tam Ja’Kell smiled. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on all the fun.”
Chapter 60
Carver
Theywerenearlytothe prison. Carver ignored the stinging cut on his ribs as he ran down the hall, urgency pulling him to move faster. Ford, Ivan, Samuel, and three soldiers followed, none of them protesting the rapid pace.
Ivan and Samuel had told them everything as they’d rushed through the deserted corridors of the palace. Amryn had been sent to help free Jamir. The rebels were relying on her to get them into the prison. Clearly, the king of Xerra was more important to the Rising than Jamir had led them to believe.
Carver’s head was still spinning with how utterly wrong this night had gone. He hated the thought of Amryn being isolated with the rebels. Of having to lie and pretend. She may not be in immediate danger—thank all the Saints the plan was for her to remain at Jamir’s cell while the others fled—but he knew she must be nervous. Scared.
I’m coming, sweetheart.
His pounding footsteps matched the pounding rhythm of his pulse as the prison entrance came into view.
Two guards were stationed there, as expected. Their faces registered shock as they saw Carver and the others tearing toward them.
“Open the door!” Carver shouted.
One of the guards fumbled the keys, but hurried to obey. Carver focused on the other as he drew closer. “My wife—was she here?”
“Y-Yes,” the guard stammered. “She said she had a messagefrom—”
“How long has she been down there?” he demanded.
“I—I’m not sure.” Flustered, the guard glanced at his older companion, who was just swinging open the unlocked door. “Less than a quarter of an hour, surely.”
Carver’s heavy breathing thinned.Too long.“She was going to Jamir’s cell?” he confirmed.
“Yes,” the guard holding the door said. “I tried to dissuade her, but she was determined.”
Carver ground his teeth. “I need an escort to Jamir’s cell.Now.”
“I can take you,” the older guard offered at once. He stepped into the prison, grabbing a lit lamp that was hanging on a hook. Carver and the others hurried to follow.
