“I can try searching the library in the capital,” Amryn offered. They wouldn’t be lingering in Zagrev, but . . . “That collection must be vast.”
“No,” Felinus said at once. “You can’t risk showing any interest in this topic. If anyone discovered you were researching empaths and bloodstones, you would be under instant suspicion.”
Amryn knew he was right. Empaths were so feared in the empire, even exhibiting curiosity about them could have dire consequences.
“What if you don’t learn anything?” Carver asked. Amryn felt the burn of his frustration. He felt out of his depth, and for a man like Carver, that did not sit well. “What if you can’t figure out how the bloodstone might be destroyed?”
“Then we’ll need to choose a very good hiding place for it,” Felinus said grimly. He shook his head. “But there must be a way to destroy it. If I can’t find answers here, I’ll journey to Wendahl. The university’s library is the largest in the empire. The answers we seek may well be there. Once I learn what can be done, I’ll meet you in the capital.”
“No,” Carver said. “Go to Westmont.” He glanced at Amryn, the promise he’d made to her so recently burning in his eyes. “That’s where we’ll be, just as soon as we can leave Zagrev.”
Felinus nodded. “That would be for the best. Amryn will no doubt be safer in Westmont. The bloodstone, as well.” His lips pressed into a line. “Let us pray the other four remain safely hidden.”
The thought of a bloodstone in the hands of the knights—or an empath as powerful and unfeeling as her brother—made her shudder.
A knock on the outer door of the suite made them all straighten.
Carverexhaled sharply. “Saints, it’s the middle of the night. Who else could possibly need something?”
“It’s Ford,” Amryn said quietly, easily sensing Carver’s friend on the other side of the door. If she hadn’t been distracted by Carver and Felinus and their emotions—and the guards standing in the hall—she might have felt Ford’s approach.
Carver rose, crossing the room in long strides and then pulling the door open.
Ford looked as exhausted as he felt. His shoulders—leaner than Carver’s—bowed under an invisible weight, and his olive skin appeared drawn in the glowing light cast from the nearby lamps. His dark hair was messy, as if he’d been dragging his fingers through it.
“Sorry you’re still awake, but we need to talk,” Ford said by way of greeting. He glanced over Carver’s shoulder, noticing Amryn and Felinus. His eyebrows raised. “Unless I’m interrupting some sort of midnight confessional?”
“No.” Felinus rose to his feet, his hands clasped under the wide sleeves of his brown cleric’s robe. “I was just bidding Lady Vincetti farewell.”
Amryn stood as Carver let Ford inside, the murmur of their lowered voices drifting across the room.
Felinus stepped closer to Amryn. His whisper was soft and urgent. “I don’t know if trusting Carver with all of this was wise, but regardless, you must guard yourself carefully.” His expression tightened, his anxiety rippling between them. “And you must keep your distance from the bloodstone. Do not be tempted to use it again, foranypurpose. Do you understand?”
In the other room, the bloodstone hummed.
A chill skated over her arms. “Yes. I—”
The earth pitched.
Amryn sucked in a breath. Her arms flew out in an attempt to keep her balance as the stone floor shuddered beneath her feet. Fear sliced through her, made all the sharper because she felt the blades of fear from Felinus, Ford, and Carver as well.
Paintings rattled on the walls, some dropping with a loud clatter as the shaking continued. A vase of flowers toppled from a side table, fragile glass shattering against unforgiving stone.
Ford cursed. Felinus dropped to his knees, shaved head bowed as he muttered a prayer.
“Amryn!” Carver staggered toward her.
She fought to keep upright despite the forceful tremors, her heart trapped in her throat. Muted screams rose from deep within the temple. The harsh clatterof objects crashing tore through the air. Windows shattered. Wood buckled and snapped.
Carver’s fingers dug into her arm. He yanked her against his hard chest, his strong arms banding around her. His unbreakable hold grounded her as the entire world rocked. She clutched him impossibly closer, her arms latched around his waist, her face buried in his shirt, his spicy, sandalwood scent surrounding her.
The shaking grew harsher. More jagged. Violent.
A horrific crack sounded above them.
“Move!” Ford roared.
Carver shoved Amryn to the nearest wall. She gasped as her back hit stone, and then Carver’s chest was pressed firmly against hers, his arms braced above her head, covering her. Shielding her. Protecting her with his own body as ceiling tiles smashed to the floor.
