“You’re not going.”
She eyed him. “I think the emperor would have something to say about that. Besides, I don’t want to leave Jayveh alone.” Carver might have argued, but Amryn was already looking at Ahmi. “Will you give us a moment?”
“Of course,” the maid said, slipping from the room.
Amryn watched her go, her eyes darting to the guard in the hall. Her shoulder relaxed slightly. “His shift must have ended,” she murmured.
Carver frowned. “What?”
She met his stare. “The Rising made contact with me.”
It was the absolute last thing he’d expected her to say. “What?”
Her lips pursed. “They think I’m still loyal to the cause.”
He recalled the strain he’d detected in her at the prison. “It happened this morning,” he guessed.
“Yes. Here, in the room.” She swallowed. “It was the guard who was just here. Bram.”
Carver tried to recall the man’s face, but couldn’t. He’d been in too much of a rush to reach Amryn. Samuel had assured him that she was all right, but he knew he couldn’t believe it until he saw her himself. Now, Carver knew his wife had been in danger twice today. Tension bracketed his spine. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.” She paused, then added, “I know him.”
Shock hit once more. “How?”
“He’s from Ferradin. He’s been my uncle’s bodyguard for years.” Shadows entered her eyes as she told him about her encounter with Bram. How he wanted her help with some rebel mission.
Carver’s heart hammered the entire time. The guard stationed at her door—a man entrusted to protect her—was a member of the Rising. His enemy. And Amryn’s enemy as well, if the man ever learned she’d betrayed the rebellion. The rebels were fanatics. Carver didn’t trust any of them. Certainly not with Amryn’s life. He needed to talk to his father, get handpicked men to guard—
Amryn’s hand landed on his arm. “I’m all right.”
His eyes cut to hers. “He could have killed you.” Blazing Saints, the man had walked right in. No one would have heard her cries until it was too late.
If they heard her at all.
“Carver.” Amryn held his gaze as she slowly shook her head. “Bram would never hurt me. He joined the Rising toprotectme. I was caught off guard, but I was never in danger.”
Her soothing tone did little to assuage his panic, let alone the sick feeling low in his gut. “Two men,” he said tightly. “There should always be at least two men at your door.”
She squeezed his arm. “All right.” She didn’t argue. Didn’t fight. Because she knew he needed this.
She knew, because she felt it.
He pinched his eyes closed, focusing on steadying his breathing and calming his rioting thoughts and emotions. Now that he knew it worked, he needed to be better at shielding her.
“Bram wouldn’t hurt me,” Amryn said slowly, an odd note entering her voice. “But . . .” He tensed at her hesitation. Her eyes flickered between his, a cringe overtaking her expression. “He wants to kill you.”
As he’d been prepared for something worse, this news made him snort. Seeing her concern forhim, after everything she’d been through, had him cracking a smile. “The man’s not alone in wanting me dead, sweetheart.”
“Carver, this is serious.” Anxiety strained her voice. “He said my uncle never intended for us to remain married after Esperance. He wants you dead, too.”
“I’ll win him over.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“I’m very likeable.” At her scowl, he pointed out, “I won you over, didn’t I?”
“This isn’t a joke.”
