“You underestimated Tam,” Keats said, speaking directly to Carver. “What makes you think you’re not underestimating your wife?”
“You’re attacking her for no reason,” Carver bit out.
“I have plenty of reasons,” Keats argued. “My job is to protect the empire.”
“I fail to see how continually questioning my wife’s loyalty helps anything.”
“I’m trying to get to the truth of things.” Keats leaned forward. “We’ve sworn the same oaths, Carver. The only difference right now is that I refuse to fail, while you already have.”
Cregon gripped Carver’s shoulder, keeping him in his seat when all he wanted to do was slam his fist into Keats’s face. “We’ve been here for hours,” his father said, his voice filled with authority. “I think it’s time we called it a day.”
Morelli grunted. “A good idea. I, for one, need a strong drink.” He stretched to his feet, groaning as joints popped.
Keats and Carver remained seated, locked in a staring match. “I know this is difficult,” the older general finally said, his words softer, though his tone remained blunt. “You faced more disasters in Esperance than any of us expected, and you lost Argent.”
Carver’s stomach plunged.
“You lost Argent.”
The words were accusatory. They were also truer—and more painful—than Keats realized. Because Argent was truly lost. He wasn’t a captive of the rebels. He wasn’t going to be found. And his death was Carver’s fault.
“I’m trying to get him back,” Keats continued. “Everyone knows the prince is your best friend. I thought you would be more willing to help me do whatever it takes to find him.”
“That’s enough,” Cregon said, warning sharpening his voice. “Carver’s loyalty to Argent—and this empire—will not be questioned.”
A muscle in Keats’s cheek jumped, but he nodded. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to cast any shadow of doubt upon you personally, Carver. Everyone here knows your history, especially in Harvari.”
Carver’s jaw tensed. He was painfully aware of his father, who had gone still in the chair beside him. Morelli was watching him with an intensity that made his skin itch. Even Hector was staring. They all knew he’d been captured. Tortured. But few knew exactly what had happened to him. His father only knew because he’d readCarver’s official report. It had been written as dispassionately as he could make it:The enemy tortured other prisoners in front of me until they died. I told them nothing.
In the emperor’s eyes, those lines had cemented his place as a war hero. But Carver knew there was nothing heroic about it. The blood of those innocent men stained his soul.
Feeling his father’s eyes on him, Carver fought to keep his expression neutral, his focus trained firmly on Keats. “I accept your apology.” It was the only thing he could think to say.
Keats inclined his head, then said, “I would like to set up a time for Amryn’s interview.”
Carver forced his stiff jaw to move. “Would tomorrow afternoon work?”
“Perfectly.”
“I’ll be there.”
A shadow crossed Keats’s face. “There’s no need for you to attend.”
Carver bared his teeth and repeated, “I’ll be there.”
Cregon released a long sigh. “Perhaps this can be discussed tomorrow as well.”
Judging by the glare on Keats’s face, Carver didn’t think the general wanted any sort of discussion about this. But Cregon was the High General, and Keats decided to defer. For now, at least. But Carver would not allow Amryn to be subjected to Keats’s ruthless questions. Certainly not alone.
Keats was the first to leave, and Hector was close behind him, his bag slung over one shoulder. He cast Carver a look tinged with pity, which wasn’t something Carver appreciated.
Morelli rounded the table and threw his arms around Carver, squeezing so hard Carver’s ribs creaked. “Glad you’re back, Carver,” he said, a wide grin splitting his face as he drew back. He slapped a hand on his shoulder. “And don’t let Keats bother you. The man is intense, but he’s good at his job.”
Carver grunted. “I suppose you were assigned as his partner to keep him from taking things too seriously?”
Morelli winked. “I do have a certain reputation.”
“Unfortunately,” Cregon muttered.
