Amryn
“You?”Carverasked.
Amryn could feel the banked storm of emotions that churned inside him. Shock and denial were there, but the strongest was fear.
She couldn’t blame him. Her brother was the sort of empath the emperor, the knights, and the church all prayed they’d eradicated.
“My mother often told me that Tiras didn’t truly understand emotions, because he could so easily manipulate them,” Amryn explained. “Emotions meant little to him when they could be so easily banished or changed. But despite that, he cared for me, in his own way. My mother said that, in many ways, I was his tether to humanity. She believed that as long as Tiras cared about me, he wouldn’t cross lines that shouldn’t be crossed—at least where I was concerned.”
“Do you think that remains true?”
She huffed a weak breath. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since I was seven years old.” She had no idea who he was now. She didn’t even knowwherehe was. He could have gone anywhere all those years ago. She once again wondered if he might have joined the Rising. He’d despised the empire and the church for making him hide his abilities, but it was hard to imagine him joining the rebellion. He’d always been remote. And she didn’t think he’d handle taking orders very well.
Carver cleared his throat. The sudden wariness he felt made her tense. “Our last night in Esperance, when you told me about Tiras and yourfather . . .”
Her fingernails dug into her palms. Saints, she didn’t want to talk about her father.
Carver’s voice was gentle as he continued. “Since they’re both presumably still alive and they know your secret—”
A sharp rap on the door made Amryn jolt.
Carver stood, his hand going to the dagger sheathed at his hip. He crossed to the door and unlocked it, and by the time he’d pulled it open, Amryn had pushed to her feet as well.
An unfamiliar guard stood in the doorway, his breaths coming too fast. “General Vincetti,” he panted. “The emperor asks that you come at once.”
Tension flooded Carver, and Amryn felt her own dread rise.
“Why?” Carver demanded. “What’s happened?”
The guard paled. “It’s Princess Jayveh, sir. Someone just tried to kill her.”
“I’m fine,” Jayveh insisted for the third time since Amryn and Carver had arrived in her suite.
Amryn knew without being told that it was Argent’s apartment. It was obvious in the masculine design of the furniture, in the books on philosophy, war, and government that packed the shelf in the corner—along with what looked like some well-worn fantasy stories—and the collection of daggers arranged artfully on the wall. She could almost feel Argent in this room, almost see the charming flash of his smile. The pain of his loss hit her all over again, and she squeezed Jayveh’s hand.
Amryn sat on the edge of the bed with the princess, while Carver crouched in front of her. His gaze was intent on Jayveh’s face, and Amryn was once again surprised at the level of his apparent calm. Even though anger, fear, anxiety—even a degree of self-recrimination, perhaps for not being here when she was under threat—lurked below the surface, his voice and expression remained smooth as he said, “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Jayveh’s exhaustion was almost painful, and Amryn couldn’t resist putting an arm around her shoulders. The princess’s slim hands were held protectively against the subtle curve of her belly. Amryn felt the spark of life inside. The soft malepresence somehow felt both vulnerable and strong. He’d already fought so hard for life, even before he was born.
Jayveh glanced at the emperor, who sat in a nearby chair. His grief and fury were potent, even if his body was slumped with age and fatigue. Amryn didn’t think he’d chosen to sit; he looked like a man who would have fallen if a chair hadn’t been found for him.
Jayveh’s eyes softened. Ignoring Carver, she spoke gently to the emperor. “Your Eminence, please, you must retire. I’m perfectly fine, and you need rest before the meeting tomorrow. I’ll give Carver all the details, but there’s no need for you to hear everything again.”
For a moment, Amryn didn’t think the emperor would heed her. But then he nodded, and one of his bodyguards assisted him to his feet. His eyes went to Carver, who straightened. “Thank you for coming so quickly,” the emperor said softly. “She only wanted you.”
Carver bowed his head. “I’ll make sure every protection is in place, Your Eminence.”
The emperor’s throat bobbed, and Amryn swore she saw a sheen of tears in his eyes before he shuffled from the room, his guards surrounding him.
When the door closed, it was only the three of them left in the room.
Jayveh’s lips trembled, even though she pressed them together.
Amryn’s heart ached for her friend.
Carver dragged a chair over and positioned it in front of Jayveh. He sat, his face full of compassion as he said, “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Jayveh.”
Cracks appeared in the princess’s calm, but she didn’t break. Amryn was beginning to think nothing could break her. Except maybe losing Argent, which was why she clung so fiercely to the belief that he was still alive.
