“Unfounded?” Zacharias spluttered.
Lisbeth quelled him with a shrp look. “The empath will be found, Zacharias. I passed along your request to the Holy Superior. He was most alarmed—not just by the suspected empath’s appearance, but by your many failures in Esperance.”
Zacharias bristled. “I can explain everything.”
“Good. Because Highest Cleric Jeremiah is coming here to personally hear your explanations.”
Zacharias paled. “The Holy Superior is coming to the palace?”
“Yes,” Lisbeth confirmed. “And he’s bringing knights with him. I expect them to arrive in three days.”
Carver swallowed a curse, even as he heard Amryn’s breath falter.Three days. That didn’t give him much time to get Amryn out of Zagrev. Especially since there was no way the emperor would allow anyone to leave until after tomorrow’s meeting.
“The empath must be found,” the emperor said.
“It will be,” Lisbeth assured him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “The knights will find the empath, no matter what it takes.” An almost feral glint appeared in her eyes as she added, “We cannot allow an empath to roam free. A monster like that does not deserve to live.”
Carver had never wished empaths were mind readers until the moment he was forced to watch Amryn walk away with the rest of the Chosen while he remained in the throne room.I’ll keep you safe,he silently swore to her.I’ll get us out of here before the knights arrive.
Amryn never looked back.
The door closed, stealing his wife from view, leaving Carver with only the memory of her cold hand in his and an imprint of her fear pressing against his skin. And the image of Ivan walking beside her. Carver tried to ignore the irrational burn of jealousy, but even if the Wolf didn’t have feelings for Amryn, it still bothered him to see another man at her side.
The only good news was that Zacharias and Lisbeth had been dismissed as well. While Zacharias had always annoyed him, Lisbeth unnerved him. He didn’t know her—had no reason to dislike her on sight—and yet there was something about her that made him uneasy. It might have been her heavy stare, or the way she’d hesitated at the emperor’s dismissal. Regardless, as she’d walked past Carver, her blue robe trailing behind her, a chill had rolled down his spine. She’d given him a thin smile.
He had not returned the gesture.
“I know both of you must be tired as well,” the emperor said to Carver and Jayveh once they were alone. “I’m sorry to ask you to stay.”
The last thing Carver wanted was to be apart from Amryn—especially after everything that had just happened—but if giving the bulk of his report now could pave the way for his request to leave Zagrev with Amryn . . . “I’d like to answer any of your questions, Your Eminence.”
The emperor offered a small smile. “Thank you, Carver.” He straightened in his throne. “Before the meeting tomorrow, I want to clarify some of the things that happened in Esperance. Especially about Argent.” The emperor’s old eyes hardened. “Two of my generals have been overseeing the war effort against the Rising, so I have invited them to join us.” He glanced at Carver. “I also asked my steward to summon—”
A knock sounded on a side door, located near the dais.
The emperor straightened on his throne and called out, “Admit them.”
The guard at the door bowed before pulling the door open.
The first man to step inside was Hector Kezin, the emperor’s steward. He had one shoulder hitched up, which helped support a large leather satchel the man was rarely without. He had been the emperor’s steward since before Carver’s birth, so Carver had known him his whole life. Hector was probably around fifty years old.He was soft-spoken, well-organized, and highly intelligent. He helped the emperor manage his many affairs by coordinating his schedule, writing his messages, and doing anything else the emperor required. Hector wore perpetual ink stains on his long fingers, and he usually had a book or two tucked under his arm. Carver and Argent had also learned through a series of boyish practical jokes that Hector was generally unflappable, except when they’d left a snake in his desk drawer. His screams had been heard throughout the palace that day, and Carver was convinced the man still held a grudge, even if he was too well-mannered to say anything all these years later.
“Apologies for our tardiness, Your Eminence,” Hector said, his polite tone flawless even as he hurried into the room.
Carver lost interest in Hector the second he saw the man who followed him. Shock hit first, followed by an almost crushing wave of relief.
Cregon Vincetti, High General of the Craethen Empire, was a tall man with broad shoulders, a well-trimmed beard, and dark hair that had touches of silver. The lines on his face could make him look severe, but most had been earned through years of laughter with his family. His eyes were a mirror of Carver’s own, and they went immediately to him. “Carver.”
A tension that had been present for far too long in Carver’s body loosened. Without hesitation, he crossed the space between them and embraced his father.
Cregon’s grip was strong, but Carver had no complaints. In fact, he held his father just as fiercely.
“Saints, it’s good to see you,” Cregon said, his voice a little thicker than usual. He pulled back abruptly, hands clamped on Carver’s shoulders and eyes narrowing as he made a cursory inspection of his son. “You’re all right?”
“Better, knowing you’re here.” His father’s presence settled him in a way he hadn’t felt since everything had fallen apart at Esperance. Even though he couldn’t entrust Amryn’s secret to his father, at least he had an ally in him. Still, his brow furrowed. “Whyare you here?”
A shadow crossed Cregon’s face. “Berron was asked to speak to one of the chancellors about his experiences with thesonnedealers in Westmont. I thought it best to accompany him.”
His father’s words were simple enough, but Carver knew the story that lived between them was much more complex. Everything with Berron was. Saints, Carver couldn’t believe his younger brother was in Zagrev. Berron had hardly left his roomin years. But then, not even Berron would dare ignore an official summons from one of the emperor’s chancellors.
