Chapter 5 #2
Carver crouched before Jayveh, holding one of her hands. “Deep breaths. You’re all right.” He glanced over at her guards, who still hovered nearby. “Set up a perimeter.”
They nodded and vanished into the misty rain.
“Why did we stop?” Jayveh asked, her voice a little raw.
Frustration bled through Carver as he said, “The road is washed out up ahead. We’re stuck here for the moment.”
Mira came forward with some water, which Jayveh accepted gratefully. As she rinsed her mouth, Carver straightened.
For the first time since exiting the carriage, Amryn took in the sight of her husband.
He’d thrown back the hood of his cloak at some point.
His dark hair was plastered to his brow and rain streamed down his face in rivulets.
His exposed throat bobbed as his blue eyes cut through the storm that raged around them and landed on her.
Her toes curled in her boots as he crossed the short distance between them. As he drew closer, her head tipped back so she could hold his gaze.
He tugged her hood up and settled it carefully over her head. He hadn’t even touched her, but her skin tingled with awareness. “You’ll catch your death,” he stated.
What about you? she wanted to ask, but her tongue wouldn’t cooperate.
Rain continued to slam around them, but Carver simply raised his voice to be heard over the cacophony. “Ahmi, can you check with the cook to see if he has any tea blends with ginger?”
Amryn’s maid nodded and hurried away.
“Ginger?” Amryn asked.
Carver shrugged. “It helped ease my sister’s morning sickness.”
She blinked at her husband. Who would ever suspect General Carver Vincetti to be knowledgeable about morning sickness?
He brushed a wet curl from her cheek. “Are you feeling sick, too?” he asked, his quiet words nearly swallowed by the rain. “Do you need to ride in the other carriage?”
His concern for her was unmistakable, and it warmed every part of her. “No. I can handle it.”
His eyes traced over her face. “I’m convinced you can handle anything.”
The compliment took her by surprise. Before she could form any sort of response, an irritated voice demanded, “What’s going on?”
Carver muttered a curse before he moved to intercept the High Cleric of Esperance, heading the man off before he could disturb Jayveh.
Amryn hurried to follow.
Zacharias’s scowl was impressive, even with his face mostly hidden within the wide hood of his cloak. His eyes were narrowed on Carver. “Why have we stopped?”
“The road’s washed out.”
Zacharias cursed. “I told you we should have taken the east road.”
Samuel and Sadia appeared behind the high cleric. The prince of Wendahl held his wife’s arm, helping her navigate the mud-slick ground. Sadia’s pretty face was pinched with concern as she took in Jayveh, who was still seated in the carriage doorway. “Jayveh, are you all right?” she called out.
The princess forced a smile. “Just a little morning sickness.”
Sympathy flared in Sadia, and she immediately went to the princess. Amryn wasn’t surprised. Sadia had always been the kindest among all the Chosen. Her genuine care for others was something Amryn admired.
Samuel watched his wife crouch in front of Jayveh, but he didn’t follow.
He and Zacharias were both visibly uncomfortable with the womanly topic of morning sickness.
Samuel shuffled his feet, but the high cleric managed his discomfort by focusing back on Carver.
“We never should have come this way. I told you the east road is more commonly traveled, so it’s better maintained. Now we might be stuck here for days!”
Annoyance flared in Carver, and he didn’t bother to keep it from his voice. “We won’t be stuck for days.”
The high cleric threw out his arms. “I think the All-Seeing Divinities disagree. This rain isn’t showing any sign of stopping.” He snorted. “We shouldn’t have left Esperance. The Divinities reminded us of their power with that quake, and now this storm impedes us. Portents, I tell you—”
“Quakes are a natural occurrence,” Samuel interrupted. “So is the rain, especially in the jungle. They’re not divine signs we should have stayed in Esperance, and they certainly aren’t Carver’s fault.”
Zacharias’s lip curled as he regarded the prince of Wendahl. “You’re a heretic as well as a traitor, then.”
Samuel merely rolled his eyes. He looked to Carver through the slashing rain. “Do you want me to look at the road? I’m by no means an expert, but I may have some ideas.”
“Please.” Carver gestured toward the front of the caravan, where guards had gathered to discuss the washed-out road.
Samuel nodded and moved to join the huddle of men at the front of the caravan. Through the hazing rain, Amryn could just make out Ivan standing among them, his height and breadth marking his identity in the group of cloaked men.
Zacharias let out a low growl. “I still don’t know why Samuel isn’t in chains along with Trevill. He was part of the Rising.” The look he sent Amryn was scathing, obviously silently adding her to the accusation.
Carver shifted to stand slightly in front of her. “Unless you want to help fix the road, I suggest you get back in your carriage, Zacharias.”
The high cleric’s hands rolled to fists. “You can’t just—”
A pulse of warning slammed into Amryn, so forceful and unexpected, she flinched.
Danger.
She didn’t know if the word had been spoken in her mind, or if she was simply feeling it. But that raw, powerful surge of warning had come from the bloodstone. Of that, she had no doubt.
A shiver tracked down her spine. Her first instinct was to cringe away from the bloodstone, but the dread lodged in her veins made that impossible.
Hackles raised, she peered through the rain that fell around them.
The carriage on her left—where Jayveh and Sadia were still huddled—blocked her view of the jungle on that side, and she could barely make out the closer tree line; everything was hazed by rainfall and thick mist. She couldn’t see any threat.
But one lurked out there.
Her breath hitched. All day, she’d been striving to block out the constant bombardment of emotions.
Now, she pushed out with her empathic sense, trying to filter through the many emotions that sparked and seethed around her.
Nausea—Jayveh. Irritation—Carver. Aggravation—Zacharias.
She reached farther, inviting the more tangled and blurred emotions that surrounded her.
Alertness—Jayveh’s guards? Weariness—the servants?
Frustration—those looking at the washed-out road?
Then she felt it. The emotion that didn’t belong: Elation.
Zacharias was still berating Carver. “. . . if you think that, you’re a—”
Amryn grabbed Carver’s arm. He instantly turned to her, ignoring Zacharias’s outraged snarl. Concern flared in Carver’s eyes as he took in her expression. “What’s wrong?”
Amryn was painfully aware of the high cleric’s sharp attention on them. She couldn’t tell Carver what she sensed—the growing thrill, the thrum of anticipation, the determination edged with violence. Her gut tightened. “Someone’s out there,” she whispered urgently.
Carver’s dark brows collided. The corded muscles along his arm bunched under her hand. He didn’t ask how she knew, or if she was certain. All he asked was, “Where?”
Her heart thundered in her chest. “I don’t know, but I think—”
An arrow shot through the mist, slicing through the air and slamming into Sadia.
Pain tore through Amryn’s back and shoulder. Her breath shuddered out of her as Sadia’s tortured scream ripped through the storm.
“Ambush!” Carver bellowed.
More arrows volleyed through the mist and rain, thunking into the sides of the two carriages—and into bodies. Men cried out and horses shrieked.
Amryn’s knees buckled, pain blinding her. She would have crashed to the muddy ground if Carver hadn’t dragged her into his arms. Scooping her up, he held her tightly against his chest as he bolted for the carriage.
Amryn struggled to breathe. To even think past the onslaught of raging emotions. But she could see Sadia on the ground. She wasn’t moving.
Jayveh was kneeling beside Sadia, but her bodyguards appeared and yanked her to her feet. They ignored her protests as they swept her into the shelter of the carriage. Mira hurried to follow, throwing a terrified look over her shoulder—
An arrow sank into her throat. The maid crumpled, dead before she hit the ground.
The snap of her death was horrific, even if Mira’s pain had been brief. A life cut short left a gaping void of nothingness behind. It was a hollowing, agonizing sensation for an empath, dizzying in its intensity.
Amryn retched.
Carver didn’t flinch, just continued to hold her tightly as he ran.
When they reached the carriage, Amryn had stopped vomiting, though her throat and eyes burned. Some of Jayveh’s guards had taken up defensive positions around the carriage, while two had climbed inside with Jayveh.
Carver all but threw Amryn into the carriage before the guards could close the door. “Keep them inside,” he ordered.
Jayveh was huddled on the floor in the corner, a guard crouched right in front of her. The princess’s eyes were rimmed red, stark terror and blistering shock roiling inside her. “Sadia,” she rasped. “She was hit—”
“I’ll get her,” Carver promised. “Stay down.” He spun away, ducking out of view.
Zacharias—who must have been following them—dove into the carriage. Terror was stark on his face as he scrambled to a back corner. He was furiously muttering a prayer, his entire body rocking to the rhythmic words he chanted.
Amryn’s heart was in her throat. She couldn’t see much of anything—the rain was still pouring down, and one of Jayveh’s guards had tugged the carriage door almost completely closed, using it as a shield of sorts.
But the unmistakable sounds of steel clashing against steel rang out.
The guards were rallying. Striking out at their attackers.