“Both men have competed against Trevill on different issues,” Hector confirmed. “Kulver is new, so their disagreements are more recent. But Janson has argued with Trevill for years.”
“Trevill said they both wanted his position in Esperance,” Carver added.
“I believe that’s true.” Hector’s brow furrowed. “I’ll review my notes on those meetings and let you know what was actually said. I can also verify if they were ever against the Craethen Council.”
Nothing happened in the palace without Hector knowing about it—and having a written record.
Carver inclined his head. “Thank you.”
The emperor frowned. “You said Trevill mentioned High Cleric Bartholomew’s departure, and High Cleric Lisbeth’s appointment here.”
“Yes. He said the timing of the replacement was suspicious to him.”
“I trust Lisbeth completely,” the emperor said, finality ringing in his voice. “I do, however, find it interesting that Trevill tried to cast suspicion on her—and Highest Cleric Jeremiah, by extension. Perhaps it’s another indicator of his guilt, to attack men and women of faith.” The emperor looked over at his steward. “Hector, please leave us.”
Hector didn’t blink at the sudden dismissal. He merely bowed his head, gathered his things, and swept out of the emperor’s office, leaving the emperor and Carver alone.
The older man’s shoulders sagged, his full age suddenly showing through. “I can’t lose her, Carver,” he said, his aged voice a low rasp. “Her or that precious child she carries.” Desperation shined in his eyes, along with unshed tears. “When we find Argent . . . I cannot bear the thought of facing him if an assassin stole the woman he loves, and his unborn child. Heartless killers have stolen too much from him already. She’s in my care—her and the babe. I can’t—” His voice cracked, halting his words.
Carver rose from his chair. He rounded the large desk and knelt beside the emperor’s chair, setting a hand on his arm. It felt so thin. Frail.
In this moment, Carver wasn’t a general kneeling before his monarch. He was simply trying to give comfort to the grandfather of his best friend. A friend he hadn’t been able to mourn properly, because everyone else clung to the belief he still lived.
“Jayveh is well protected,” Carver said firmly. “Her guard has been doubled, and we’re alert to the threat now. We’ll find whoever hired the assassin.”
Despair still coated his voice as he said, “There were no clues on the assassin’s body.”
“The biggest clue is in the fact that he struck so quickly. Whoever hired him knew we were returning early. We’ll look to those who knew and begin there.”
The emperor’s eyes dimmed. “I hate to believe any of my advisors could be responsible for sending a killer after Jayveh, but . . . I already know too well that a man can only betray you if you first choose to trust him.”
With how distant the emperor’s gaze now was, Carver didn’t think he was talking about Trevill. Carver wondered if the emperor was thinking of Saul Von instead. The empath had once been a friend to the emperor—before he’d murdered his wife.
“We don’t know that it’s one of your advisors,” Carver reasoned, his voice gentle. “Anyone you informed could have told others. Servants would have been informed as well, so they could prepare rooms.”
“Yes, but hiring an assassin costs a great deal. Doesn’t that indicate whoever hired the assassin was wealthy?”
“Most likely,” Carver agreed. “But it’s also possible this was the Rising. If they have ears in the palace, they could have learned of our coming. They could have easily put someone in place.”
The emperor nodded slowly. “Ask Morelli and Keats to question their rebel contacts. Perhaps one of them has heard something that could confirm this theory.” He settled his free hand on top of Carver’s, bony fingers squeezing weakly. “I’m glad you’re here, Carver, to help me find this traitor.”
His stomach twisted. Saints, he’d gotten so wrapped up in the mystery, desperate to know who was trying to kill Jayveh so he could protect her, he’d forgotten this couldn’t be a task he took on. He’d made a promise to Amryn. They needed to leave in the morning. He knew he couldn’t push his wife for more time than he already had. Her terror when it came to the knights was understandable, and gut-wrenching. He had to get her out of here.
Carver cleared his throat. “Your Eminence—”
A brisk knock on the door cut him off.
“Enter,” the emperor called.
Carver rose to stand at the emperor’s side, watching as the door swung open.
A man strode in. His features were pinched, with fine lines extending out from the corners of his eyes. He was old, though not as old as the emperor. Sweat gleamed on his bald head, and his robe—though dusty—marked him as a high cleric. But he was more than that.
Emperor Vayne straightened in his chair. “Holy Superior, I didn’t expect you so soon.”
“We traveled through the night,” Highest Cleric Jeremiah—leader of the Church of the All-Seeing Divinities—said. “My companions and I felt great urgency to reach you.”
Three men trailed after him. The one in the lead had dark hair with silver at his temples, long enough that it brushed his shoulders. The other two were younger, but they all had the same dark hair and facial structure. They also all wore the same red uniform, and the same crystal-domed ring.
