Twelve lines stared back at her, grouped into four sections.
The Flame, shaped by betrayal that ends in violent death.
The Flame must choose to heal or destroy; to sacrifice or betray.
The Flame will choose, and burn out.
The Sword, stained by the blood of enemies and innocents.
The Sword must break; break and be mended, so it can shatter anew.
The Sword will defend, and be defeated.
The Dragon, silenced by all and none.
The Dragon must wake; terror will reign for all but the monster.
The Dragon will rise, and fall.
The Storm has come.
The Storm must rage.
The Storm cannot be escaped or survived.
Amryn frowned. The words were ominous, but something didn’t feel right. As if something was missing, and that was lessening the impact of Von’s word. Or maybe the order was wrong?
On a whim, Amryn turned back to the journal to see if she was right . . . and quickly realized she was. More often than not, Von repeated those words in the same order.The Flame. The Sword. The Dragon. The Storm.The pattern was distinct. What if—
A footstep scuffed behind her.
Alarm flared. Amryn jumped to her feet, whirling to face the threat, her heart in her throat as she gripped Von’s journal like a shield.
The palace guard thrust out both hands. “It’s me! I’m sorry, Lady Amryn, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
With her pulse hammering and her stomach clenching, it was all Amryn could do to not scream. But then she actually looked at the guard. Trulysawhim. More than that, she finally noticed the familiar brush of his emotions. Realized he’d called her LadyAmryn. Registered the lilt of his accent. It was one she hadn’t heard in far too long.
Shock slammed into her, and her eyes widened. “Bram?”
Her uncle’s bodyguard cracked a smile. “Hello, Lady Amryn.”
She could only stare. Seeing Bram here, in this place so far from home, was unreal. It made her doubt her vision. But when she blinked, he still remained. Burly as ever, and still heavily muscled though he was in his late forties now, his brown hair touched with gray at the temples. His familiar face was so unexpected, it almost felt like he was a stranger.
“I knocked, but you must not have heard,” he said, deeply apologetic. “I knew you were alone, so I thought I’d take a chance. You didn’t hear me call your name.” He glanced curiously at the journal she held clutched in her hands.
Amryn closed the book, trapping the loose sheet of paper between the worn pages. She set it on the chair she’d vacated, hoping that would make the journal appear innocent. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.”
“You always were studious,” Bram said, fondness rising to shine in his warm eyes. “Your books or your music, it didn’t matter which. You’d always be fully absorbed.”
Amryn tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I . . . What are you doing here, Bram?” Carver had told her the emperor had summoned Rix and Torin to the capital, but it was too soon for them to have arrived.
That’s when she realized Bram was wearing the black and gold uniform of a palace guard. Her pulse quickened.Oh, Saints . . .
Bram’s lips curved into a slow smile. As if he could read her thoughts, he confirmed, “I joined the Rising. Just like you.”
Shock and denial darted through Amryn. But even though her heart pounded, she attempted to keep her expression smooth. To reveal nothing of her sudden anxiety.
Bram was arebel.Not only did that put him in terrible danger, it put her in a terrible situation. And it certainly wouldn’t help Rix’s case when it was discovered his trusted bodyguard was a rebel. She’d assured everyone that her uncle wasn’t part of the Rising; that he’d only been sympathetic to their cause. Would the emperor believe her now?
