“Jayveh?” Sadia called out, her voice tremulous with her fear. “Amryn?”
“I’m all right,” Jayveh rasped.
“So am I,” Amryn said. “Are you, Sadia?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see a second shooter?” Samuel asked Ivan—proving that the prince of Wendahl had been listening closely.
“No. Just the one.” Ivan looked over his shoulder, and Amryn peered around him as best she could. People were still panicking and cowering, but more were beginning to look around them, realizing the danger seemed to be past.
Jayveh’s guards rose, pressed so closely around the princess that Amryn only caught a glimpse of her friend’s skirt as they herded her away.
Ivan’s eyes tracked over the tiled red roofing that surrounded the inner courtyard before he grunted. He must have assessed the threat to be gone as well, because he said, “Let’s get you to a physician.”
She instantly shook her head. “No. Just take me to my suite.” Being in a physician’s ward, surrounded by the injured and sick, was not easy for her; partly from the pain and despair they felt, and partly because she knew she could heal at least some of them, but not without risking the discovery of her forbidden magic. The guilt from that was always terrible.
“Very well,” Ivan agreed. “But I will send for a physician to tend you in your suite.” He scooped her up, ignoring her protests that she could walk. “Keep pressure on your arm,” was all he said.
She tried her best, but—graze or not—the wound stung fiercely. Blood trickled between her clenched fingers, the cut throbbing beneath her hand.
“Amryn! You’re hurt!” Sadia darted over, Samuel close on her heels. The princess of Cael hesitated at Amryn’s side, her good hand fluttering uselessly. “What can I do?”
“Nothing, I’ll be fine,” Amryn said quickly, trying to reassure her.
“I’m taking her to her apartment,” Ivan said. “You should return to yours until we know the danger is fully past.”
Surprising her, Samuel shook his head. “We can find Carver. He’ll want to know what happened.”
“He’s in the prison,” Amryn told him. Her heart pinched. “Tell him the wound isn’t bad.” She didn’t want him to worry.
Samuel nodded once, then he and Sadia were gone.
Ivan carried Amryn easily, as if she weighed nothing. One strong arm supported her back while the other rested beneath her bent knees. Once they were in a less populated, narrower corridor, she began to breathe a little easier. Without feeling all the emotions of those in the courtyard, her own shock finally started filtering away. “I really can walk,” she said.
Ivan said nothing, just kept walking.
She sighed. Saints save her from stubborn men.
Ivan ordered a passing servant to fetch a physician. The young man jerked out a nod and darted away.
“You scared him,” Amryn admonished.
Ivan grunted. “That is his issue, not mine.”
She rolled her eyes, but didn’t attempt to argue with him.
When they reached the corridor that housed the Vincetti suites, Amryn saw Bram still standing guard. The moment he spotted her, he paled. “What happened?” he burst out, rushing forward.
Ivan tightened his hold on Amryn. “She was wounded in an attack.”
Bram’s frantic eyes met hers. In that moment, she knew Bram had had no knowledge of the assassination attempt. Which either meant the Rising hadn’t told him, or it hadn’t been the rebels at all—which matched with what he’d told her earlier.
“Has a physicianbeen sent for?” Bram demanded.
“Yenn.” Ivan brushed past Bram, who then scrambled to open the apartment door. Ivan settled Amryn on the bed. He left her side, but only so he could hunt down a towel in the washroom. He sat on the edge of the bed and pressed the wadded cloth against her bleeding arm.
She sucked in a breath.
