Chapter 25
Amryn
Amryn sipped from her glass of wine, an uncomfortable silence blooming between her and Cregon Vincetti.
Watching Carver walk away had made her anxiety flare, but she hadn’t called him back.
She knew he felt compelled to figure out who had killed Trevill, or at the very least, who his allies in the capital might be, if any.
She wanted him to figure that out, too, so Jayveh would be safer.
But, selfishly, she didn’t want to be left alone in the middle of a crowded room with Carver’s father.
The High General of Craethen watched her too closely, making her even more excruciatingly aware of her chaotic emotions.
The intense bursts of emotion she kept feeling around her didn’t help.
Her pulse raced, and her cheeks felt too warm.
Her palms were beginning to sweat. There were simply too many emotions slamming into her.
The painful bite of jealousy. Searing anger.
A bloom of anxiety. A flirtatious jolt of energy.
A swell of embarrassment. A burst of happiness that clashed horribly with the cut of despair someone else felt.
And coating it all was the swirling haziness of too much drink.
Amryn pinched her eyes closed, her own anxiety making the onslaught of emotions more brutal. Saints, she needed to get this under control. Why did it feel so overwhelming right now?
Please, help me. She didn’t know if the thought was a prayer to the old gods of Ferradin, or a plea to the Divinities she didn’t even believe in.
The bloodstone must have thought the words were for it.
Immediately, the maelstrom of emotions in the room were quieted.
Not gone, just . . . blurred. Muffled. They’d gone from a scream to a low hum.
She could hear her own thoughts without being battered by the emotions around her.
She could feel her own emotions without being forced to endure anyone else’s.
Her lungs expanded as she pulled in a breath.
The absence of overwhelming emotions was a little unsettling, but mostly it was relieving.
She’d never felt peace like this in a crowded room.
The hidden bloodstone pulsed with low energy.
“Amryn?” Cregon asked.
Startled, her eyes snapped to his. She was able to feel his concern, if she concentrated. The other emotions in the room remained muted.
She forced a smile, her hold on the wineglass tightening. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
In a surprisingly soft voice, he said, “I wanted to thank you.”
The words surprised her. But not as much as his next ones did.
Cregon watched her carefully, with eyes that were nearly identical to Carver’s. “In Esperance, you betrayed the Rising. You chose to defend the empire. You chose to protect my son.” She felt the depth of his gratitude. “I need to thank you for that, though I can never repay you.”
Amryn’s heart beat too fast as she stared at Carver’s father. She didn’t know how to respond.
Cregon seemed to realize this. He offered her a faint smile. “I know we’re still strangers, but I can see how much my son cares for you.” Faint lines traced over his forehead. “We’re family now. If there is ever anything I can do for you, you have only to ask.”
Words still escaped her, but she gathered her wits enough to say, “Thank you.”
Amryn could not quite interpret the look on Cregon’s face, but before he could speak, Ivan appeared beside them.
Cregon straightened. “Prince Ivan.” He shifted subtly closer to Amryn, and while she knew the move was defensive, the High General’s nearness only served to raise the fine hairs along the back of her neck.
“Just Ivan, please.” His tone was respectful, if a little curt. “I saw Amryn and wished for a quick word. Privately, if you do not mind.”
Amryn knew Cregon did mind. He’d taken his promise to Carver seriously, and he clearly intended to keep close to her. She knew exactly what he was going to say as his lips parted.
“I’d like that,” she said quickly, speaking before he could. She took a step closer to Ivan, giving Carver’s father a slight bow as she did so. “I’m sure I’ll see you later.”
Cregon’s cut of disappointment was unmistakable, but it didn’t show on his face as he gave her a smile, accepting her dismissal. “Of course.” He glanced at Ivan. “Carver will be looking for her soon.”
It was a thinly veiled threat, but Ivan merely inclined his head, unconcerned.
Cregon took a step back, hesitating only briefly before he turned and slipped into the crowd.
Ivan watched him go. “I do not think he will leave you for long. Or that he will wander far.”
Amryn had to agree. But Cregon was already being pulled into conversation with a couple of men nearby. She hoped they would keep him distracted. While they’d only had brief encounters, Amryn still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Carver’s father. Or her feelings around him.
Needing a distraction, she asked Ivan, “What did you want to speak to me about?”
“Nothing. You just looked uncomfortable.”
She arched a brow. “You were watching me?”
“Yenn.”
He was certainly taking his self-appointed bodyguard duties seriously. Then she noticed Ivan’s level of discomfort, and his heightened sense of dread. She instantly went on alert. “What’s wrong?”
His eyebrows drew together. “Nothing is wrong.” She gave him a look, and he released a slow breath before stating, “Cora’s parents are here.”
“What?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Apparently the emperor invited the Amins to the palace after he returned from Esperance. He wanted to tell them in person about Cora’s death, as well as Kian’s.”
His words easily brought back the memory of the disastrous wedding feast in Esperance, where Cora’s brother, Kian—among others—had attacked the emperor and the Chosen.
He had been executed while they all watched.
And Cora had been murdered soon after. Sorrow for the Amins rose swiftly.
To lose both their children in such violent ways was unimaginable.
“They’ve been staying at the palace as the emperor’s guests ever since,” Ivan said.
He shook his head, the ends of his blond hair brushing his sharp cheekbones.
“I intended to visit them when I returned to Sibet, to assure them Cora had been avenged. It is a bitter comfort, perhaps, but the only one I could think to offer them.”
“That’s very good of you,” Amryn said. Saints, Ivan had more kindness in him than most would suspect.
The skin around his eyes tightened. “I did not expect them to be here. But it is my duty to speak with them."
With the bloodstone muting the emotions of others in the room, it was easy enough to pinpoint his nervousness. “I’ll come with you,” she offered.
Surprise arrowed through him. “You would do that?”
“Yes. If you’d like me there.”
His relief was so strong, she felt it like a punch. “Yenn. Please.” His ice blue eyes warmed. “Thank you.”
Amryn followed him through the crowd. The emperor’s steward had apparently pointed out Cora’s parents, which was how Ivan could recognize them in the crowd.
As they made their way across the room, Amryn spotted Samuel and Sadia.
Her blood chilled when she saw they were speaking with Rhone Quinn.
She quickly averted her gaze from the knight.
She didn’t want to chance catching his gaze and risk having any sort of conversation with him.
Her interview with his father had been enough interaction with the knights.
The bloodstone, hidden beneath the collar of her dress, vibrated gently against her skin. A reminder that the shield around her was firmly in place. Still, she was grateful when Ivan shifted to keep his body between her and Rhone.
Moments later, they stopped in front of a middle-aged man and woman standing near the edge of the room.
They were dressed regally, and Amryn suddenly remembered Cora’s mother was a princess, sister to the king of Hafsin.
The woman was older, but still very pretty, even with the slight gauntness in her cheeks and the dullness in her eyes.
Despite the age difference, her resemblance to Cora was startling.
She even seemed to share Cora’s more timid personality.
Her gaze drifted over them, not quite meeting their eyes.
Her sorrow and anguish clung to her like a heavy shroud, smothering every other emotion.
Cora’s father didn’t seem much better off. He stood beside his wife, but the wineglass in his hand trembled. His grief was carved into his face, lining his skin prematurely. Amryn wondered how many of his white hairs had appeared since losing his son and daughter.
He, at least, met their gazes.
“You may not know me, Lord Amin,” Ivan said by way of greeting, his voice gentler than Amryn could ever remember hearing it. “But I am—”
“I know who you are.” Cora’s father’s flatly spoken words hung between them, a clear accusation wrapped in scathing condemnation.
Amryn stiffened, the sharp blade of the man’s rage slicing deep.
The stringed music drifting from the corner of the room seemed out of place in this tense circle, but Ivan met the challenge without flinching.
“I wanted to offer my deepest condolences for the loss of your daughter. And for your son.” He waited, but there was no response from the Amins.
Cora’s father simply stared, while his wife didn’t even seem aware of them.
Amryn’s heart ached for them. And for Ivan, who was unsure of how to proceed.
He cleared his throat. “Cora had a beautiful soul. I was fortunate to have known her, even for a short time. The world is a darker place without her light.”
Cora’s mother finally stirred. Her eyes slid to Ivan’s, the listlessness in her expression enough to make Amryn shiver. “You didn’t know her. You were a stranger to her. A husband in name only. A man she didn’t choose or want.”