Rhone’s hold on her tensed. “Berron, no!”
Berron ignored Rhone’s shout.
Renault slid into Berron’s path.
Visions of his blade sinking into Berron, just as that same knife had stabbed into Felinus, made Amryn cry out.
Renault didn’t draw his blade, but his honed skills outmatched Berron’s rusty training—especially when he exploited Berron’s blind side and delivered a staggering punch to his jaw.
Carver’s brother stumbled, and Renault managed to pin him to the wall, his forearm braced across Berron’s throat. His other hand strangled the wrist of Berron’s only hand, his thumb digging into the pulse point of his wrist.
The small knife Berron held tumbled to the floor.
Berron’s face went red with rage. He struggled violently against Renault’s unforgiving hold.
Amryn’s tears fell faster. Berron was strangling himself by fighting so relentlessly against the immovable knight. “Stop.” She tried to scream the word, but her voice came out painfully weak. “Don’t . . . hurt . . .”
“Berron,” Rhone snapped, his deep voice rumbling against her back. “Stop it!”
Berron didn’t seem to hear the knight. His eye was fixed on Amryn, the ties of his eyepatch digging a sharp furrow across his cheek and brow. The tendons in his neck strained. He was choking, but still fighting to reach her.
“Enough.” Lisbeth strode to Renault’s side. “You may be able to kill an old cleric, but Berron is a Vincetti. You can’t kill him without repercussions.”
Renault’s expression darkened. He leaned in, getting dangerously close to Berron’s bared teeth. His arm flexed, still locked across Berron’s throat. “If you don’t calm yourself, you’re going to crush your own throat. That’s a painful way to die, but at least I can tell your father it wasn’t my fault. Now, use whatever sense you have left, you stupid addict, andlook at me.”
Berron’s face was purple now. But at least his movements slowed, and his eye shifted from her to Renault.
“Good,” the senior knight nearly purred, mockery thick in his voice. “Now. Prove you aren’t the idiot in your family, Berron. Why am I, a knight, here in Lady Vincetti’s room at this hour?”
Berron glared at him, his chest heaving.
Renault tutted. “Perhaps you’re even more of a fool than I thought.”
“She’s an empath,” Rhone fairly snapped.
Berron’s single eye rounded, shock carved into every line of his face.
Renault curved out a cold smile. “He’s not lying. Sheisan empath.”
Berron’s gaze shot to Amryn. She knew he expected her to deny it. And when she didn’t . . .
Amryn knew the exact moment he realized the Quinns were telling the truth. The death of Berron’s denial played out across his face. The emotions that battered him were painfully clear. Fear. Vulnerability. Disgust. Panic. Embarrassment. Confusion. Betrayal.
She didn’t feel the emotions, not with the poison swimming in her body. But, somehow, she still felt the pain of them.
Berron’s struggles had ceased completely.
Slowly, Renault removed his arm, freeing him. And yet, Carver’s brother didn’t move from the wall he’d been held against. He stared at Amryn, turmoil churning in his single eye. His voice was hoarse as he asked, “What are you going to do with her?”
Rhone answered, his tone placating. “My father is taking her to the Tower. It’s the only place an empath can be secured.”
A muscle in Berron’s cheek pulsed. “You can’t just take her. She’s one of the Chosen. She’s Jayveh’s friend. She’s Carver’swife.”
“That’s exactly why we must take her,” Renault said. “An empath cannot exist among such people. She’s dangerous. An abomination.”
Her involuntary whimper was quiet, but the room was so silent she knew everyone heard it.
Berron’s hand clenched at his side. “Are you going to kill her?”
