“I’m sorry,” he said. “For all you’ve had to suffer as his wife. But you won’t have to suffer him much longer.”
Her heartrate spiked. “What do you mean?”
Bram’s eyes darkened. “Timelines may shift as plans adapt, but the end goal has always been the same. Whether the Rising gives the order or not, your uncle and King Torin never intended for you to remain married to the Butcher. Carver Vincetti is a dead man.”
Chapter 22
Carver
Forthesecondtimethat day, Carver found himself at the palace dungeon. This time, Ford stood beside him as they waited for the guard to fit the key in the lock. Ford’s dark brown hair was still damp from his quick wash, and he’d changed into clean clothes. While eating a hurried meal, Carver had relayed all that had happened since they’d parted ways in Esperance. The ambush on the road, the assassination attempt against Jayveh, and the little they knew about Trevill’s death. Carver could see weariness in the way Ford stood, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to convince his friend to stay in the guest room that had been prepared for him. Not when Jamir was waiting for them.
Soft footsteps brushed the floor behind them, and they both turned. Surprise lit through Carver at the sight of Amryn approaching with one of Jayveh’s bodyguards at her side.
Amryn’s sea-green eyes slid to him, and Carver frowned when he saw how clouded they were. Then she spied Ford, and a smile broke free. “Ford!”
His friend grinned, tiredness shrugged aside as he moved forward to embrace Amryn. “You heard her, Carve—she was more excited to see me.”
She pulled back just enough to lightly slap his arm.
The sight made Carver’s lips twitch.
“Hey!” Ford complained with a smile. “Can’t you just admit you missed me?”
She lifted one eyebrow. “Will it inflate your ego if I say yes?”
“Definitely.”
She rolled her eyes, but Carver heard the concern in her voice as she asked, “You’re all right?”
“Always.” A shadow fell across his face. “I didn’t find Argent, though. Or Tam.” He nodded toward the prison door. “We’re heading down to interrogate Jamir now.”
“I know.” Amryn bit her lower lip. “Jayveh asked me to meet her here.”
Carver tensed. He didn’t like the idea of either woman being present when they questioned Jamir.
Amryn’s gaze flicked to him. “This is something Jayveh needs to do,” she said softly. “Jamir is a demon she has to face. She asked me to stand with her.”
And Amryn would, because she was a loyal friend. Even if entering a prison had to be uniquely painful for an empath.
Carver exhaled slowly. He didn’t like it, but this was Amryn’s decision to make, so he simply nodded. Just as he knew Argent would have given in to Jayveh, even though he wouldn’t have wanted his wife anywhere near her abusive uncle again. He would have stood beside her, though, and Carver would do the same—for both women.
The guard opened the prison door, and Ford went first down the steep staircase. Carver took Amryn’s hand, the two of them descending the stone steps with Jayveh’s bodyguard trailing behind.
Strain pulled Carver’s muscles taut as they entered the prison. When Amryn’s fingers tightened around his, he realized she must be sensing his emotions. He slammed them down with brutal will, hoping that shielded her somewhat.
They reached the base of the stairs, the prison’s highest level lit with glowing lanterns affixed to the cold stone walls. The corridor was lined with holding rooms, guards standing at attention. Catching Amryn’s expression, he saw the furrow between her brows. And the clouds were back in her eyes.
Instinct rippled, and his eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong?”
Her throat flexed as she swallowed. Her eyes darted to the guards around them. “I’ll tell you later,” she murmured.
Curiosity burned, but he inclined his head in silent capitulation.
Lacing her fingers around his in silent thanks, they continued forward, following Ford toward Jamir’s holding room. Standing outside the door was the emperor, Jayveh, and their guards.
The emperor looked weary but determined, a grimness in his eyes as he surveyed their approach. After they had all bowed, he looked to Jayveh. “Are you sure about this, my dear?”
The princess’s jaw firmed. “Yes.”
