Bram’s hands fisted at his sides. “I can do that—”
“Neeyev,” Ivan said curtly. “You may go.”
Amryn met Bram’s eyes, silently telling him that she was all right. Her uncle’s bodyguard was clearly torn, but he eventually inclined his head and returned to his position in the corridor. She could feel him out there, his fear for her a weight pressing against his chest.
“How is the pain?” Ivan asked.
“Not too bad,” she lied.
He nodded once, not looking up from where the towel was slowly staining red. “When did Ford arrive in Zagrev?”
She suspected he was trying to distract her, but there was a thread of true curiosity in him. “This morning,” she said.
“Did he locate Argent or Tam?”
“No.”
“But he brought King Jamir.”
Something in his tone—and his emotions—made Amryn ask, “You don’t think he should have been arrested?”
Ivan eyed her. “I did not say that. But I wonder if the consequences of arresting a king will be greater than the emperor anticipates.”
“You think the Rising will retaliate?”
Ivan snorted. “Loyalty doesn’t seem to be a strength of the Rising,” he said, his contempt for the rebels obvious. “But Jamir may have men loyal to him in Xerra. Other kings may also take notice and grow uneasy. Politics make for a dangerous battlefield. In an instant, allies can become enemies.”
She knew he was right. She hadn’t been an integral part of Torin’s court, but she had grown up around politics. She knew they could be treacherous.
Ivan shifted his hold on her arm, increasing the pressure.
Pain sparked, and she sucked in a breath, her good hand clutching the blanket beside her.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
She shook her head, her voice a little thinner than before. “It’s fine.” She cracked a smile. “I suppose your debt has been fulfilled, then. You saved my life.”
“Neeyev. My warning may have saved Jayveh’s life, but you were injured.”
She frowned. “But—”
“Jayveh was the target,” Ivan interrupted. “Not you. Someone wants her dead.”
A shiver tracked down her spine. “Carver will figure out who’s targeting her.”
Ivan’s stare met hers. “I thought you and Carver were leaving.”
“We can’t leave until after the emperor’s ball.” She shifted under his scrutiny. “What?”
“I was coming to find you,” Ivan said. “Before the attacker struck.”
She remembered the intensity in his eyes as he’d crossed that courtyard, headed straight for her. Her tongue darted over dry lips. “Why?”
He watched her closely as he asked, “How was your interview with a knight,il mishka?”
Her heart thudded in her chest. Forcing her face to remain smooth, she said, “Fine. How was yours?”
His brow furrowed slightly. “Uncomfortable.”
