The men shared quick looks before the apparent leader said, “We have orders to remain within sight of you at all times, Princess.”
“Just a little space, please,” Jayveh insisted. “You can wait at the end of the hall.”
There was a slight hesitation, but the guards obviously decided that was acceptable. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the otherwise deserted hall as they walked away, mimicking the sudden drumming of Amryn’s heart—except while their footsteps grew softer, her heartbeat was only getting louder.
Dread gathered low in her gut as she faced her friend. “What happened to Carver in Harvari?”
Jayveh’s mouth tightened. Reluctance pulsed, but her lips finally parted. “Carver was captured by the enemy. He was held as a prisoner of war for about five months.”
Amryn’s breath caught. Her head spun as those words repeated in her mind.Captured by the enemy. Prisoner of war. Five months.
“Everyone thought he was dead,” Jayveh whispered. “That he’d been killed in a brutal ambush. So many were dead at the site. The bodies had all been . . .” Sheswallowed hard, revulsion shooting through her. “The pieces had all been burned,” she said, carefully sidestepping the awful truth, though it was clear enough.
The pieces.Men who had once breathed and laughed. Soldiers under Carver’s command. Men he’d known. Men who had died so violently, even their bodies couldn’t rest in peace. Bile rose, and she fought to swallow it back.
Jayveh’s lips thinned. “With everything reduced to ash, they couldn’t be sure Carver was among them. But they assumed he was dead. There were no signs he’d been taken, no demands for ransom.” Sorrow swirled in her. “I don’t know everything that happened to him,” she said softly. “Only what Argent shared with me. But I do know Carver was tortured.”
A tremor shook through her. Amryn pressed a hand over her mouth, her eyes stinging and her throat burning. She felt so stupid for not knowing. For notrealizing.
The lash marks on his back. She’dknownthose hadn’t come from a battlefield, she just hadn’t let herself follow that thought to its logical conclusion. Hadn’t ever imaginedthis.
Tortured. Five months.
The words were relentless, pounding in her mind. Breaking her heart.
She’d known Carver was haunted by things he’d seen in Harvari. Things he’d done. She’d sat with him on the nights he couldn’t sleep. Felt the darkness churning inside him when the demons in his head wouldn’t be silent. The first time she’d woken him from a nightmare, he’d tackled her with a knife, certain she was an enemy. The second time, in that small tent on their journey to the capital, he had snatched her wrist, as if fearing an attack. As iflivingone.
Because he had. Over and over again. Not just as a soldier, but as a prisoner.
Tortured. Five months.
She was going to be sick.
“I’m sorry,” Jayveh said softly. “I thought you knew.”Or that he would have told you,was what her rising pity clearly expressed. “Argent told me Ford was the one who found Carver. He refused to believe he was dead. He didn’t stop searching until he found the camp Carver was being held at.” She winced. “I know he was terribly injured, but Ford rescued him.”
A dull ringing in Amryn’s ears nearly drowned out the thud of her pulse.Injured.Carver had told her he’d been injured in Harvari. That he’d nearly lost his life. It was why he’d left the warfront. He’d returned home to recover.
He’d told her that, but he hadn’t told herthis.
“I thought you knew,” Jayveh repeated. “Thateveryoneknew. My uncle kept me isolated, so I didn’t hear much about the war, but when Argent told me what had happened to Carver, he made it sound like all of Craethen knew he’d been a prisoner.”
Amryn couldn’t breathe. She’d made no effort to follow the war. Her life in Ferradin had been so far removed from it, there had been no reason for her to do so. She’d heard Rix and Torin discuss it from time to time—that’s how she knew Carver had earned his nickname as the Butcher—but she’d never heard about his capture.
Jayveh reached out and grasped Amryn’s hand. “I’m sorry,” she said, compassion and sympathy pouring from her. “I don’t think he talks about it. At least, I know he never really talked to Argent about it.”
Don’t feel bad he hasn’t told you.That’s what Jayveh meant.
Amryn looked away. Heat built in her cheeks, and she hated that. Hated that for even a second, her thoughts were for herself. What did it matter if she was hurt or embarrassed that Carver hadn’t confided in her? He had been a prisoner, enduring horrific torture formonths.
And yet, it hurt that he hadn’t trusted her with this. Because she had trusted him with so much. Her secrets. Her heart. She had shared some of her darkest memories with him, and he hadn’t done the same.
“I’m sorry,” Jayveh repeated softly, regret filling her.
Amryn forced herself to meet Jayveh’s worried gaze. Squeezed her friend’s hand, since Jayveh was still holding hers tightly. “Thank you for telling me.”
Concern still hung in Jayveh. Her next words proved that she was intuitive and had followed Amryn’s thoughts. “It isn’t easy to talk about difficult things in our pasts. Some things seem too terrible to speak aloud.”
Amryn thought of her father’s betrayal, the one thing she had yet to tell Carver about. Because Jayveh was right—some thingsweretoo terrible to speak. Giving them air made them too real. It made one too vulnerable.
