When he turned back to her, Amryn stood with her arms folded across her middle. “I love you,” she told him.
Such simple words, but he would cling to them as he finally put his best friend to rest.
Chapter 65
Amryn
Ithadbeenfourdays since Carver had left. If no complications had arisen, he would be arriving wherever Tam had chosen to lead them, possibly right at this moment.
Four days had never felt so long.
The funeral rites were in full effect for Emperor Vayne. He was receiving the holiest of honors, which included three days of constant vigil—where loved ones sat beside his perfumed body and prayed for his soul—followed by three days of public mourning—which included more prayers, special sermons, and the hanging of black cloth over front doors. When all that was done, the emperor would be entombed in the crypt of his forefathers, former kings of a simple country once called Craethen. During the long hours Amryn sat with Jayveh, she wondered if their spirits lingered. If they were aware of Lorcan Vayne’s empire, and if they approved of what he’d done. If they wanted him buried beside them.
Not that the dead had any choices. Even the emperor, once the most powerful man in the world, had been forever silenced.
Jayveh hoped Argent would return in time for the burial, but Amryn knew the reality would be much grimmer. Soon, her friend would have a second funeral to preside over.
Amryn had sat with her as the princess prayed beside the emperor’s wrapped body. While Jayveh wept, Amryn held her hand and offered a silent, simple prayer of comfort for her friend. It was one her mother had taught her.
She also said a prayer for Bram. His body had been burned unceremoniously along with the other rebels who had died the night of the emperor’s assassination—including King Jamir and Chancellor Janson. Such senseless, useless death. And still, there was more.
Cora’s mother had been found dead in her cell the morning after Carver left Zagrev. Poison had blackened her tongue. A ripped seam in her ballgown made it easy to determine how she’d smuggled it into her cell.
Lord Amin had been found with the small capsule in his hand, tears streaking his face. “I can’t do it,” he’d told the guards. “I can’t face them in the Beyond. Not as a failure.”
Hector had handled the nobleman’s interrogation, and the broken man held nothing back. He’d alternated between tears and rage as he’d confessed that he and his wife had been trying to kill the Chosen for weeks. It had become an obsession once the emperor had returned from Esperance and had informed the Amins about their son’s execution and their daughter’s murder.
“My wife couldn’t stand it,” Lord Amin explained. “The emperor sacrificed our children for his foolish venture. We lost everything. It wasn’t right. The emperordeservedto fail. Everyone who supported him deserved to lose their sons and daughters, too.”
They had used a large part of their fortune to hire the small army of mercenaries that had attacked the Chosen in the jungle. And when the Amins learned the Chosen were coming to Zagrev, they’d used the rest of their fortune to hire assassins to kill them in the palace.
Sofina had been the one to demand violent deaths, to match those her children had suffered. They had tried to kill Jayveh first, wanting to land a painful blow to the emperor. But it was after they’d seen Ivan and Amryn at the emperor’s feast that they’d changed targets.
“He was married to our Cora,” Lord Amin seethed. “He even professed to be sorry for losing her, while standing in front of us with another woman!”
They’d tried to kill Amryn—and Carver, by extension—in an effort to hurt Ivan. When that had failed, they’d set their sights on Ivan. They’d even allowed the use of poison to ensure the deed was done. And still, the assassins had failed.
By the night of the ball, the Amins were ready to snap. The final break had come during the emperor’s speech.
“He didn’t care about Cora,” Lord Amin had all but snarled. “He didn’t care about Kian. Our children were no longer breathing, yet he stood there smiling,telling everyone Esperance had been a success? He spoke so easily of replacing the dead Chosen—as if our daughter could be replaced! And he dared talk about Jayveh and Argent having a child, when our children would never be parents? It was obscene!”
Killing the emperor and Jayveh had been their final, desperate act. A plan they’d thrown together while everyone else in that garden danced.
Lord Amin admitted they’d been carrying the poison to bring about their own deaths for a while. “We were prepared,” he told Hector. “Prepared to meet our children, once we avenged them.”
After all the violence and death, the very air in the palace felt heavy. Amryn was struggling under the weight of all the emotions she felt, even with the bloodstone helping to dampen the worst of them.
Berron seemed in a darker mood than ever. Amryn knew he wasn’t taking Janson’s betrayal well. He had worked closely with the chancellor for months. He’d respected him. When Berron’s gaze had fallen on Amryn, she’d felt his needling of guilt. She worried that he blamed himself for her being hurt by Janson’s treachery. But when Amryn had tried to speak with him, Berron had slammed the door in her face. It had been a while since he’d done that, and it caused her heart to ache.
Rix and Torin were also dealing with a churning maelstrom of emotions. She had finally told them about her betrayal of the Rising in Esperance, and she’d shared what details she could about infiltrating the rebels here in the palace. She knew they were shocked and upset. Rix was furious that she’d endangered herself—especially when she explained she’d done it to earn pardons for them. Torin seemed mostly hurt that Amryn hadn’t confided in them sooner. But most of all, she hated feeling their disappointment.
She knew Rix was further upset that she hadn’t told him sooner about a knight being in the palace, and that she’d found a way to protect herself from detection. At the last moment, she decided not to tell him about the bloodstone; she simply told him she’d discovered a way to weave an emotional shield that protected her. He was incredulous and confused, and nothing she said dulled the sting of his hurt. She was trying to give Rix and Torin space, especially since they were also mourning Bram’s death.
Amryn was endlessly grateful for Carver’s mother. She had visited Amryn a couple of times since the emperor’s ball, fussing and fretting as only a mother could. Tonight, she’d insisted on ordering dinner up to Amryn’s room when she found out Amryn had missed the afternoon meal. Alora had ordered enough forIvan—who had been Amryn’s shadow ever since Carver had left—and she also invited Elowen, Berron, and Jayveh to join them.
Elowen came immediately. Jayveh sent her apologies, pleading exhaustion. Berron hadn’t responded at all.
Amryn could feel how deeply his silent rejection had cut Alora, but the woman tried to hide it as she fell to mothering the rest of them. She made sure they all ate plenty, even though she grumbled about the undercooked vegetables and overcooked chicken, as well as the poorly seasoned flat bread and the “wholly inadequate” fruit tarts.
