Chapter 45 #3
The emperor’s eyes grew distant as he lost himself in memory.
“Saul never liked Jeremiah, though. They disagreed frequently. But while the church warned that empaths were unnatural and had terrifying powers, they were not hunted. Not until Saul killed my wife, revealing that no empath could be trusted.” A fervor rose inside the emperor, and his eyes grew sharper.
“They are manipulators. Liars. Pure evil. Their wickedness runs as deep as that of a demon from hell, and their aim is the same—to corrupt and destroy all that is good and holy. Every empath deserves to wander the Scorched Plains, wracked with eternal torment.”
Amryn’s heart pounded in her chest, but she did not flinch when the emperor set a hand on her arm.
He smiled gently, the action so at odds with the heated words he’d just spoken. “Forgive me, child. I can become carried away when I think of those who took so much from me.”
His words were laughably ironic, since they stood among priceless works of art that he had stolen, each one a representation of the countless lives this man had ruined.
“My heart is weary and beaten down,” the emperor said softly, with all the weight of a confession.
“It is as fractured as the stone before us. But it has not yet broken completely. And Argent . . .” He shook his head.
“Until I know there is no hope, I refuse to give up my belief that he still breathes.” His eyes slipped past Amryn. “Ah. Your husband returns.”
Amryn turned to see Carver striding toward them, glasses of water in hand.
“I’m glad we had this moment to talk, Amryn,” the emperor said. “Thank you again for all you’ve done for me and the empire.”
I didn’t do it for you. That’s what she wanted to say, but she held her tongue and simply nodded.
When Carver reached them, she could feel his worry for her. He handed Amryn her glass of water and said, “I’m sorry, Your Eminence, but Hector wants us to continue with the tour.”
“Of course,” the emperor said. He gave Amryn a last smile. “I hope you enjoy seeing the rest of my treasures, my dear.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. To him.
Frankly, she didn’t know what to think about any part of their conversation.
But she dropped into another curtsy, as was expected, and she was grateful when Carver took her hand and pulled her away, leaving the emperor and the ancient carving of her ravaged history behind.
The emperor’s treasury was a maze of interconnected rooms, sectioned off to hold countless treasures.
The vast space was larger than any of the galleries they had explored today, but it was obvious this was not a public space.
The only entrance was well guarded, and there were no windows.
Flickering lamps and guttering torches lit the rooms. Hector explained the treasury was generally kept in the dark, and that it took nearly half an hour for trusted servants to light every room of the sprawling labyrinth.
Each room was filled with rows of display cases, tables, and chests filled with all manner of riches.
Coins, pearls, gemstones, diamond necklaces and glittering crowns, swords and shields, bars of gold, books and scrolls.
The sheer amount of items was staggering.
It was even more mind-boggling to think these were treasures the emperor kept only for himself.
A heaviness lodged in Amryn’s gut as she tried—and failed—to take in the sheer wealth.
But the deeper they walked into the overwhelming rooms, the more that feeling grew.
Even the bloodstone, which she wore hidden around her neck, seemed to hum in response.
She tried to focus on memorizing the path to the Dagger of Hafsin, taking in any details the Rising might want to know as they planned their heist. Since the treasury was organized by kingdom, she knew they were getting close to the dagger when Hector said they were entering the Hafsin collection.
There were just as many artifacts here as in the other rooms, but it didn’t take long before Amryn spotted the large glass case filled with weapons.
She had never seen the Dagger of Hafsin before, but she knew it instantly.
The old royal artifact was obviously the centerpiece of the display.
The ceremonial knife was nestled on a slightly raised bed of purple velvet.
The blade was only as long as a man’s hand, and it shined in the glowing lamplight.
The short blade was pristine, but it was the dagger’s hilt that drew the eye.
Black metal, embedded with dozens of glittering gems, made it an almost blinding display of wealth. A large, dark ruby sat in the pommel, with smaller and brighter rubies and glittering diamonds decorating the cross guard.
A whisper rose in Amryn’s mind as she stared at the blade, her eyes drawn back to the large, dark ruby.
The bloodstone around her neck pulsed, vibrating with a euphoric surge of pleasure.
The heaviness in Amryn’s gut increased and her breathing thinned. She reached out with her empathic sense, brushing against a presence that had grown so slowly, she hadn’t recognized it. Especially since the low whispering hum had been drowned out by another hum she knew all too well now.
The second she connected with the whispering presence, it became a roar in her mind.
The bloodstone around her neck blazed to violent life. She gasped as searing heat flared against her skin. Reflexively, she grabbed for the amulet, but the heat died before she could pull it out from under her collar.
Carver grasped her arm. “Amryn? What’s wrong?”
She barely heard his concerned voice as a wave of emotions slammed into her. Fury, hatred, malice, terror, agony, and condemnation. She didn’t hear the bloodstone’s horrible voice booming words in her head, but she heard screams. So many endless screams, trapped and scalding against her mind.
She fell back a step, her eyes shutting on instinct as she doubled over and threw her hands over her ears.
It did nothing to quiet the shrieking in her head.
Through the shock and pain, it took a moment to realize the feelings arcing through her—and the screams tearing into her brain—were not coming from the bloodstone around her neck.
They were coming from the bloodstone embedded in the Dagger of Hafsin.
“Amryn!” Carver held both of her arms now. He was shaking her.
No. The trembling came from the floor.
Guards shouted. Crashes echoed in the large chamber as objects clattered to the floor. A quake, Amryn realized distantly. But the pain in her head was so intense, so overwhelming, she could barely register her fear at the earth’s shaking.
PATIENCE. THE TIME IS NOT YET COME. CEASE NOW.
The booming voice belonged to her bloodstone—but it wasn’t speaking to her.
In an instant, the shrieking in her head died.
The torrent of emotions cut off, and all was silent.
Even the earth stopped shaking. Amryn had fallen to her knees at some point.
Her hands were still pressed over her ears, and her heart thudded loudly with every labored breath that sawed in and out of her.
Carver’s fingers dug into her arms as he knelt before her. His eyes were blown wide, panic and fear writhing inside him.
He had no idea how frightened he should be.