Carver nodded his thanks. As Morelli disappeared up the stairs, Ford asked, “What about Trevill?”
“He was killed in his cell last night.”
Ford’s eyes widened. “Saints.”
“That’s not all,” Carver said grimly.
“Why am I not surprised?” Ford muttered. “What else happened while I was gone?”
Carver sighed. “Someone tried to kill Jayveh.”
Chapter 21
Amryn
Amrynbitherlipas she thumbed through Von’s journal. She was sitting out on the balcony. The wrought-iron chair wasn’t exactly comfortable, but having fresh air made the trade worth it.
She stifled a yawn. Tiredness dragged at her, since she’d only managed to get a little sleep last night, but she had no regrets. She and Carver had talked for hours, sharing stories from their childhoods and anything else that came to their minds. It had been simple. Effortless. And it had been exactly what they’d both needed.
Her last memory of the night had been Carver tugging her to their bed. Dawn had only been a couple hours away, and she’d barely been able to keep her eyes open. He had helped her settle beneath the sheets, and she swore he’d kissed her temple before he’d retreated.
She was smiling when she woke.
Carver was already gone. He’d left a note, telling her he’d gone to spar with Morelli. While Amryn had the protection of the bloodstone, she’d chosen to remain in their apartment after a delicious breakfast she’d insisted Ahmi share with her. Once her maid had left, Amryn turned to Von’s journal. She hadn’t had a chance to write down the pattern she’d noticed in his repeated words.The Flame. The Sword. The Dragon. The Storm.She’d found parchment, ink, and a quill on the bookshelf among Carver’s things before making her way out onto the balcony.
The fresh air teased her curls and brushed gently across her skin, the floral scents of jasmine and hyssop drifting up from the palace gardens. It was all too easy toimagine Carver standing at the stone railing, as he had last night. Or to picture him going through his meditative stances, as he had their first morning here. Shirtless both times. Her cheeks warmed, but her grin was unstoppable.
This balcony might just be her favorite place in Zagrev.
Forcing herself to focus, she pushed aside thoughts of Carver and concentrated on the journal in her hands. Some lines stood out, even though they weren’t the ones she searched for.
The empire must fall. Only then can the world survive.
As much as the world hates me, it cannot match the hatred I feel for myself.
Forgive me.
Amryn frowned. The desperation in Von’s words bled through the ink, even years after writing them.Forgive me.She wondered who he’d sought forgiveness from. Her first thought was the man he’d wronged so violently—Emperor Lorcan Vayne.
As soon as she thought his name, she saw it on the page before her.
Lorcan cannot win. Neither can Oren.
Murdon Savin had circled both names and labeled them ‘the emperor’and ‘Von’s ally?’
Amryn had never heard another empath’s name linked to Von’s, but now she thought of the Acolytes. Rhone had told Carver they were a group of powerful empaths allied with Von. And yet, it seemed unlikely that this Oren had been on Von’s side, because he’d stated that Oren could not be allowed to win. Saints, would any of this ever make sense?
Finally, she came across one of the lines she’d been looking for.
The Flame, shaped by betrayal that ends in violent death.
Unease whispered across the back of her neck, but she tried to ignore the actual words as she jotted them on the loose sheet of paper.
She soon lost herself in her work, only distantly aware of the life bustling in the palace around her. A set of guards, patrolling below. A harried servant, rushing down the corridor on some errand. A ripple of softness that Amryn thoughtmight be Elowen, somewhere in her apartment further down the hall. A couple of noblewomen wandered the grounds below the balcony, each wrestling with feelings of resentment toward the other, though their pleasantly spoken words expertly disguised their mutual dislike. The increasing weariness and impatience of the guard at her door, who was eager for his replacement to arrive.
Each time she felt a new burst of emotion from somewhere around her, she tried to ignore it. She couldn’t help but notice that she was able to separate the emotions of strangers more easily than ever before. She wondered if it was a possible side effect of carrying the bloodstone. Even now, she was wearing it around her neck, the gemstone hidden under her collar. She wasn’t actively accessing its power, other than to use the protective shield, but maybe it was helping her in other ways. Which was actually a bit chilling, since she wasn’t actively seeking its help.
Not wanting to dwell on that, she focused solely on the task at hand. Soon, a full page of her own handwriting stared back at her. She’d found every line in the journal that had started with the Flame, the Sword, the Dragon, and the Storm.
