Chapter 5
Amryn
Rain pounded the carriage roof, a relentless barrage of sound that drowned out nearly everything else.
Amryn’s head ached with the constant noise.
It had been raining for two days straight.
But at least she had the protection of the carriage.
Carver, Ivan, and the guards were on horseback, protected only by cloaks.
Everyone was miserable—which certainly didn’t help her mood since she felt all of their misery.
She also sensed Carver’s mounting frustration, which was echoed by Jayveh.
The muddy roads and unrelenting deluge were slowing them down.
Still, Carver had assured them over a hastily eaten breakfast that they should be free of the jungle in another two days. Once on the more maintained roads, they’d be able to make better time.
As much as Amryn dreaded arriving at the imperial palace in Zagrev, she was looking forward to being free of this carriage.
Tendrils of hair that had come loose from her braided crown stuck to her sweaty skin.
She was sweltering. The rain didn’t allow them to tie back the canvas flaps that covered the windows, so the already humid jungle air was even more stifling in the carriage.
She felt isolated from the world. Jayveh was seated on the cushioned bench beside her, but the cacophony of the rain made it nearly impossible to have any real conversation.
Ahmi and Mira—their maids—sat across from them, alternating between dozing or doing some quiet sewing.
Amryn couldn’t sleep, and she had nothing to distract her from her thoughts. She fiddled with her mother’s old prayer coin, which was tucked safely in her pocket, and she thought far too much about Carver.
His nightmare two nights ago had shaken him.
And, if she was being honest, it had shaken her.
He’d felt so many emotions, all flashing so rapidly she’d only managed to identify the most cutting ones.
His pain. His terror. And his desperation to shut her out.
When she’d suggested talking about his nightmares might help, his answer had been spoken with dark and uncompromising force: “No.”
It had hurt. Especially because she’d sensed that he never intended to talk to her about the things that haunted him. The very thought of opening up to her had made him feel sick. That stung, especially after all Amryn had shared with him.
She was trying not to take it personally.
She’d felt his excruciating vulnerability.
She knew his defenses had reared up because he’d needed them.
Pushing her away had been a natural reaction to feeling so exposed.
Truthfully, it had nothing to do with her.
It had been an act of pure self-preservation on his part.
She could only imagine what he’d witnessed on the battlefields in Harvari.
War was a horrific thing even in the abstract, but to live it?
It was no wonder Carver had scars, both emotional and physical.
She knew each mark on his body told a painful story.
The brutal scarring above his heart. The pale lines on his arms. The lash marks that marred his back.
Her stomach dipped, nausea rising. Those hadn’t come from a fight. She’d had the thought before, but hadn’t really—
Another uneasy swirl in her gut made her realize the nausea wasn’t entirely her own.
Jayveh was sitting on the cushioned bench beside her, face drawn and mouth pressed in a tight line. One hand rested on her belly while the other was braced against the carriage seat between them.
Amryn’s stomach pitched again. “Do you need to stop for a break?” she asked, speaking loudly enough that she could be heard over the storm.
“No,” Jayveh said. “I’m fine.”
Amryn gave her a look.
The princess sighed. “I’ve been feeling a bit sick all morning,” she confessed.
“At first, I thought it was the endless rocking of the carriage, but I’m beginning to think it’s morning sickness.
” She gently rubbed her belly. “It isn’t pleasant, but honestly, I’m relieved.
If I’m feeling the effects of the pregnancy, it means the baby is truly all right.
” The skin around her eyes tightened. “A miracle, all things considered.”
Amryn instinctively reached out with her empathic sense, gently probing the small male presence that lived inside Jayveh. Assurance filled her. “He’s strong and healthy.”
“He?”
Amryn froze, but only for a split second. She forced a smile. “Just a guess.”
Jayveh’s fingers spread over her stomach.
Her voice was soft, nearly lost to the pounding rain as she said, “Argent guessed the same. But I think it was more of a wish. He wanted a boy first, because he said he’d need all the help he could get protecting any daughters we’d have.
” Her words were soft, but the cut of her grief was painfully sharp.
Amryn reached across the space between them and took Jayveh’s hand, squeezing gently. “Jayveh, I—”
A yell outside cut her off, and the carriage lurched to a stop. The rain continued to beat against the roof, but Amryn could just make out the creaking of the other carriage coming to a halt behind them. Horses chuffed and whickered in protest, and shouting voices rose.
Amryn tensed. She didn’t feel a threat, but she didn’t trust herself when she was surrounded by so many people. Emotions blurred too easily, making it difficult to pick out anything specific. But she did feel an edge of annoyance. A slice of disappointment. And a low but growing alarm.
Her pulse quickened. The incessant churning in her belly didn’t help her feel any better about what she was sensing from those outside the carriage.
She searched for Carver, and a wave of relief washed over her when she brushed up against his familiar emotions. The better she knew a person, the more easily she could discern what they were feeling, even in a crowd. Right now? Carver burned with irritation.
“Why have we stopped?” Mira asked, alarm coloring the maid’s voice. “It isn’t time for the midday meal yet, surely?”
Ahmi leaned toward the nearest window, her fingers swiftly unpicking the knot that secured the canvas flap.
Jayveh’s nausea spiked, making Amryn’s own stomach roll.
“I’m going to be sick,” the princess gasped. She fumbled for the latch on the carriage door, one hand clapped over her mouth as she gagged.
“Princess, wait!” Mira cried. She scrambled from her seat, reaching for the princess’s discarded cloak; they’d all shrugged them off the moment they’d settled in the carriage that morning.
Jayveh did not wait. She shoved the door open and all but fell out of the carriage, already doubled over and throwing up.
“Jayveh!” Amryn fought the urge to retch right along with her friend, even as she leapt down beside her.
The pouring rain slammed into Amryn and she sucked in a breath. The rain wasn’t particularly cold, but it was heavy. She was drenched in seconds, struggling to breathe against the punishing weight of the onslaught.
She staggered once before finding her footing on the muddy road. She wrapped an arm around Jayveh, who rocked into her as she continued to heave.
From her periphery, Amryn saw two of Jayveh’s bodyguards swing down from their horses and rush forward. Their alarm knifed through Amryn.
She also felt Carver’s panic.
“Amryn!” His hand landed on the small of her back, then slid until his arm encircled her. “Get back inside!” he shouted over the rain.
“Jayveh’s sick!” Her words were hardly necessary, since Jayveh was still throwing up.
Carver’s hold on her tightened. “What’s wrong?”
“Morning sickness,” Amryn explained quickly, feeling his spike of dread and wanting to assuage his fear that something was truly wrong with Jayveh.
There was a tug of sympathy deep in his chest, then Carver moved to Jayveh’s other side, helping to brace her.
Amryn shouldn’t have been surprised that he would stay.
That he’d hold Jayveh without flinching, even as she retched.
His innate kindness and selfless compassion had shocked her once, but they were part of why she’d fallen in love with him.
Jayveh’s guards hovered nearby, watching anxiously and helplessly as the princess’s vomiting continued.
Amryn closed her eyes, her grip on Jayveh tightening.
Her gift of healing wasn’t one she used often, but it was easy enough to isolate the roiling in Jayveh’s gut and pull it into herself.
Her own nausea increased, but she felt Jayveh’s decrease in response.
She didn’t completely understand how it all worked.
Her mother had died before Amryn was old enough to ask her detailed questions, and her uncle had only been able to explain so much, since he wasn’t an empath.
Amryn knew there were limits—her mother had been clear on that—just as she knew that any hurt or sickness she took on would be fleeting.
However brief, she still felt the pain of it.
In this case, she felt a rush of heat invade her cheeks, her mouth filled with saliva, her palms dampened, and her stomach lurched.
She hadn’t taken all of Jayveh’s sickness, but she’d dulled it enough that her vomiting ceased, and the princess was finally able to catch her breath.
Jayveh trembled as Mira threw a cloak over her. Carver helped the maid secure it, then he guided Jayveh to sit in the open doorway of the carriage. It wasn’t a perfect shelter from the storm, but it was something.
Ahmi appeared with Amryn’s cloak, which she took gratefully, though she only slung it over her shoulders.
Her hair was already soaked, and she didn’t want to block the slight breeze that teased her skin.
It helped temper the waves of nausea still rippling inside her.
It also helped to move a few steps away from the pile of vomit on the road.