Chapter 2
Carver
Carversworeaspiecesof the ceiling rained down, exploding into jagged shards as they hit the floor. He flinched, ready to feel the slice of debris tearing against his back or striking his ducked head. But the pain never came. Tile shattered against stone behind him, but nothing hit his body. Yet.
Amryn jerked in his arms at an especially loudcrack, but he didn’t let her go. He pressed her more firmly against the wall, and with one hand he forced her head down so he could cover her completely.
His pulse raced. A bloodyquake? As if the last twenty-four hours hadn’t been enough, the Divinities decided to throw something else at them? If he truly believed in them, he’d be cursing them right now.
Amryn trembled, and not just from the quake that continued to rock them. But despite her obvious fear, she gripped his waist tightly, fingers locked in his bunched shirt, pulling him closer—as ifshewas trying to protecthim.Or as if he was her only lifeline in the chaos.
He rather liked both thoughts.
As abruptly as the quake had started, it stopped. The world was left feeling too still in the absence of it. Too quiet.
Amryn’s grip on his shirt didn’t loosen, her breaths harsh in the eerie silence. The earth had stopped shaking, but tremors continued to wrack her body.
Slowly—moving one tightly coiled muscle at a time—Carver eased back.
Her light green eyes were wide and terrified as they met his. Fierce protectiveness punched through him. He scanned the length of her body, his palms running methodically down her arms as he searched for any sign of injury. Finding none, the vicelike hold on his chest loosened slightly.
His gaze came back to hers and he lifted one hand to cup her cheek, his thumb swiping across her lightly freckled skin. An instinctual impulse he had no desire to curb had him ducking his head, pressing his lips to her hairline.
Her breath hitched at the soft kiss.
“You’re all right,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. The reassurance was probably more for him than for her.
Her pulse fluttered visibly along the smooth column of her neck, her eyes still wide, her grip on him tightening as she asked, “Areyouall right?”
Before he could answer, Ford swore again. “Everyone still alive?”
“Yes,” Felinus said.
Carver didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to release his hold on Amryn. Right now, she was safe in the shelter of his arms. Right now, he was able to assure himself that nothing—no one—could touch her. The familiar citrus and mint scent of her soap soothed him in a way that hardly made sense, but he’d long ago stopped trying to make sense of the impact this woman had on him. She made him feel alive, something he hadn’t truly felt since the horrors he’d experienced in Harvari. Her proximity was all he needed to calm the darkness that plagued him.
Unfortunately, reality wouldn’t allow him to hold her indefinitely.
His grip on her flexed tighter, a brief rebellion, before he forced himself to release her. But as he shifted to face the room, his hand found hers. Relief—and something much deeper—expanded inside him when her hold was as desperate and strong as his own.
A quick scan of the suite assured him that Felinus and Ford were unnerved, but uninjured. The cleric’s customary brown robe was sprinkled with powdery dust, and he was eyeing the various cracks and missing tiles from the ceiling, which exposed the rough stone and wooden beams underneath. Glass from one of the windows littered the floor, along with other broken and displaced items. The quake had certainly left its mark on the room.
Carver’s heart hammered with the realization that it could have been much worse. The entire temple could have collapsed on top of them.
Amryn shifted a little closer, her arm brushing his in silent reassurance. As if she’d felt his fear and wanted to soothe it.
Saints, that was probablyexactlywhat had happened.
The realization gave him pause. Obviously, he’d known Amryn could sense emotions, but to actuallyseeher react to what he was feeling was . . . strange. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on his wife’s empathic abilities, though. He took a slow breath, allowing the general he’d trained his entire life to become take over.
He looked to Ford. “Take the guards in the hall and go to the dungeon. Make sure Trevill is secure.” It would be a pity if the chancellor died before facing judgment for his crimes, but it would be even worse if the traitor managed to escape.
Ford nodded and left.
Carver twisted to Felinus. He didn’t entirely trust the cleric; the former knight was an unknown in too many ways, and he knew Amryn’s secret—not a comforting combination. But Amryn trusted him, and that had to be enough for now. “Find High Cleric Zacharias,” Carver told Felinus. “He needs to assess the damage to the temple. I want a report as soon as possible on what he finds, including any sustained injuries or fatalities.”
“Of course,” the cleric agreed at once. “Where will you be?”
Carver’s eyes settled on Amryn. “We’ll be with Jayveh.”
