“There were many things I struggled to tell Argent.” The echo of old pain, mixed with shame, floated to the surface. That particular blend of emotion was inevitably felt by those who’d suffered ongoing abuse, making it clear Jayveh’s thoughts had turned to her uncle and all she’d suffered at his cruel hands. “It isn’t easy to relive your most painful moments,” she said. “And it certainly wasn’t easy to share the details with Argent, knowing he would hurt for me. That he’d somehow blame himself for not knowing how I’d suffered for so many years, even though hecouldn’t have known. That he’d wish he could have somehow shielded me from my uncle.”
Amryn could only imagine the combined helplessness, pain, and rage Argent must have felt, knowing how Jayveh had suffered. Amryn’s pain and rage were potent enough.
“I’m glad I told him,” Jayveh concluded softly. “Just as I’m grateful he didn’t force me to speak before I was ready. He accepted my need to share my pain in my own time. Not his.”
It was gently given advice, and Amryn accepted it with a slow nod, even though all she wanted to do was seek out Carver, look into his eyes, and let him know that she knew. Perhaps it was for the best they’d be stuck in this upcoming meeting for hours. It would give her time to process everything and rein in her need to talk to him about it. Because Jayveh was right. Carver’s needs came first in this, and she would not force him to face this particular demon.
“I’m sorry I reacted badly to you telling me that you’re leaving,” Jayveh said softly. “I just . . . I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” Amryn hesitated, then wrapped her arms around her friend.
Jayveh easily returned the embrace.
“I’m sorry we have to go,” Amryn whispered.
Jayveh’s hold tightened. “Just promise me you’ll come visit soon.”
It wasn’t a promise she could make, but she nodded anyway.
When they drew back, Amryn could still feel the ghost of pain in Jayveh. “Will you confront your uncle?” she asked. “When Ford brings him?”
“Yes.” Jayveh’s mouth thinned. “Argent once told me that he dreamed about the day he could personally arrest my uncle and make him suffer for every harm he ever did to me and my brothers. I’ll admit, it felt good to imagine that.” She released a slow breath. “But revenge means little to me now. I just want answers. I want Argent back. And if my uncle can help do that, I’ll give him whatever he wants.” Her eyes sharpened, resolve tightening the air around her. “And if he refuses to help me, I will ensure he’s persuaded to change his mind.”
Chapter 16
Carver
Carvertrailedtheguardwho was guiding him to Trevill’s cell. Their boots scuffed against the gritty stone floor, every sound echoing down the narrow halls of the prison. The lantern in the guard’s hand swung as he walked, making the shadows leap over the walls.
Being in the prison made Carver’s skin feel too tight. The imperial dungeon wasn’t anything like where he’d been held captive, but the sensation of being trapped was the same.
The guard drew to a stop before a wooden door and handed Carver the lantern. Keys jangled, the lock grated, and the door creaked as it swung open on old hinges.
Carver stepped inside.
Chancellor Aaron Trevill sat on the rumpled bed along the back wall, squinting blearily against the lantern’s flickering light. He was in his mid-thirties, and his handsome features and charming demeanor had made him approachable in Esperance. He looked a little less so at the moment. His ankles were shackled together with a short length of chain that was anchored to the wall behind him. His wrists were unbound. His clothing was rumpled, his hair wild, and his beard unkempt. Even still, he exuded a calm he should not have been feeling.
The cell door shut behind Carver.
“I didn’t expect you,” Trevill said, his voice a little hoarse from disuse.
“Do you know why I’m here?”Carver asked.
“I have a few ideas.” Trevill said, demeanor unruffled as he leaned back against the wall behind him. “An apology would be appreciated.”
Carver snorted. “You’ll be waiting for that apology until we meet on the Scorched Plains.”
Trevill lifted one eyebrow. “I take it you haven’t come to your senses, then.”
“You’re a traitor.”
“I thought it was customary for a confession, or maybe a trial, to determine guilt.”
“You’re not going to get away with what you’ve done. You might as well cooperate fully.”
The disgraced chancellor huffed a breath. “You’re questioning me here, instead of in a holding room. That means you want me to feel the full weight of my imprisonment. A basic intimidation tactic.”
Carver met his stare, refusing to let Trevill know he was right.
