The empty one on her right was for Carver.
“Let us begin introductions,” the emperor said.
The cleric Amryn didn’t know introduced himself first, speaking with the same air of superiority all high-ranking clerics seemed to possess. “I am Jeremiah,” he said. “The Highest Cleric and Holy Superior. Head of the church and overseer of the High Temple in Daersen.”
Amryn’s mouth ran dry. This man was more than just the leader of the church. He commanded the Order of Knights. He knew about the tortures that took place in the Dark Tower—the empaths that Felinus had said were broken under the cruel hands of the knights. All of that was done by Jeremiah’s command. He was responsible for so much death and pain, Amryn couldn’t even comprehend the level of evil that must live inside him.
She jolted when the oldest knight spoke, his voice tight and deep. “I’m Renault Quinn, Senior Knight of the Order.”
Renault Quinn.Those dark features, the sharp angles on his face . . . this was Rivard’s father.
“Rhone Quinn,” the knight on his right said, his voice smooth but his eyes sharp. “I’m a Knight of the Order.”
“Revell Quinn,” the last knight grunted. “A Knight of the Order.”
Rivard’s older brothers. From the darkness in each of their eyes, she assumed they knew their brother was dead.
Amryn’s stomach churned as the introductions continued. Their voices were like a distant echo as she warred with herself. She never should have taken her seat. She should have dismissed herself to Cregon—let him make excuses for her. She could have rushed to Carver.
She should do it now. She couldn’t just sit here, waiting for the moment the knights discovered her. The moment it was her turn to introduce herself, their eyes would fall on her.
But if she left the table now, they’d also look at her. Her breath hitched. There was no way out. No good decision. She was going to be—
The bloodstone flared hotly, its energy filling her. Embracing her. Surrounding her.
Shielding her.
The realization hit with staggering force. The bloodstone wasshieldingher from the knights. She didn’t know how she knew that; there were no words, but instinct flared. She sensed the bloodstone’s desire to protect her. Felt the sheltering cocoon it had woven around her, making it impossible for the knights to discern her empathy. Amryn knew it down to her bones, even though she didn’t understand how or why.
A gentle nudge came from the bloodstone, a hum and pulse that coaxed her to explore the protective shield with her empathic sense. She sensed the bloodstone wanted her to understand the defensive wall it had powered for her, so she could trust in it.
Lost in concentration, Amryn jolted when Cregon spoke beside her, introducing himself. Then it was her turn.
All eyes were on her. The heaviest belonged to the knights.
Her fingers curled into her palms beneath the table. “I’m Amryn Lukis Vincetti,” she said, her voice sounding too thin to her own ears. “I—”
The door shoved open and Carver stalked into the room. His chest rose and fell too quickly, betraying the fact he’d been running. Amryn was so attuned to him, it didn’t matter that they were in a crowded room—she felt his terror as his eyes sliced over the wide chamber, searching for her.
Their gazes collided, and a shiver tore through her at the intensity of his stare. At the burn of his emotions, which were chaotic and sharp. Relief burst through them all, and he released a stuttered breath.
“Ah, General Vincetti,” the emperor said. “Please join us.”
Carver swallowed, shooting a look toward the knights. His hands twitched at his sides, his fingers too close to the dagger sheathed at his belt.
Amryn stiffened.
Carver’s attention snapped back to her, and she gave an infinitesimal shake of her head.
“We were just finishing introductions,” the emperor said, a bit pointedly. The chastisement was gentle enough, but others in the room felt varying shades of confusion and irritation as Carver remained still.
His throat flexed as he swallowed. “I apologize for my tardiness, Your Eminence.” He bowed toward the emperor, then made his way around the tables with measured steps. Amryn swore she could feel the heat of his body as he moved behind her.
He tugged out the vacant chair beside her and sat. His breathing remained slightly rough. Amryn wasn’t sure if it was from his run, or due to the tension pouring off him.
Cregon silently eyed his son, a slight frown in place.
The emperor looked at Amryn. “You may continue, my dear.”
