Chapter 46
Carver
“The Dagger of Hafsin is a bloodstone?” Carver repeated incredulously.
“It’s one of the jewels decorating the hilt,” Amryn clarified.
“It’s the same size as my bloodstone, just not as vibrantly red.
It wasn’t dark like when I found mine on Zawri, though.
I think that means this one wasn’t fully dormant.
It certainly felt more alert than mine did before I used it the first time. ”
Carver tried to ignore the way she’d so easily claimed the bloodstone around her neck as hers, and focus instead on wrapping his mind around this unexpected development.
They were back in their room, but his heart was still hammering.
The way Amryn had gasped and doubled over in the treasury .
. . The memory alone made it hard to breathe.
He’d known she was in pain, but he had no idea what was wrong.
There was nothing for him to fight. Then the quake had hit, and all he could do was hold her and pray the treasury’s ceiling didn’t come down on them.
The quake had ended quickly, and in a way he supposed he was grateful it had struck when it had. It had stopped anyone from paying too much attention to Amryn’s reaction to finding a second bloodstone.
Saints. He didn’t want another one. He hated being responsible for the one they already had.
“I heard so many screams in my head,” Amryn said, her voice too thin. “It was horrible. The things I felt . . . Such raw and brutal agony. Horrendous grief and searing rage.” She shuddered, and Carver immediately went to her.
She was sitting on the edge of their bed, where he’d made her sit as soon as they entered the room. Afternoon sunlight streamed in through the windows, catching in her beautiful red hair. She was paler than usual, which only made the still-fading bruises on her cheek appear more vivid.
His gut clenched. He knelt before her, taking her cold hands in his. “It hurt you.”
A slight tremor ran through her fingers. “I don’t think it was trying to attack me. That bloodstone . . . it felt totally different from mine. Like it couldn’t communicate in words, only in emotions. Anger and pain, torment and endless screams.”
He hated seeing the fear in her eyes. Especially because there was little he could do to ease it. “You need to stay away from it.”
Her brow furrowed. “But I can’t do that.
I have to help with the trap for the Rising.
” He opened his mouth to protest, but she squeezed his hands.
“I can handle it. I know what to expect now. Besides, my bloodstone told the dagger to be silent, and it obeyed. I don’t think it will hurt me next time I get close. ”
As if that comforted him.
She suddenly frowned. “Do you think the Wraith knew the dagger contained a bloodstone? Is that why he wants it?”
“I doubt it. Bloodstones are too obscure.” He grunted.
“Not to mention the Wraith doesn’t exist.” The legendary assassin was a ghost story.
Whoever had contacted the Rising was only adopting the fictional assassin’s well-known moniker, of that he was sure.
But none of this ultimately mattered, because the rebels wouldn’t be getting the dagger, which meant the mystery assassin also wouldn’t get it.
Amryn bit her lower lip. “Samuel said the dagger belonged to Hafsin’s royal family for generations.
Considering it’s a bloodstone . . . I wonder if maybe someone in that bloodline was an empath?
They would have been able to access the bloodstone’s power.
That could be why the dagger was regarded as such a powerful relic.
” Her brow furrowed. “I wonder how old the bloodstones are. Or where they came from in the first place. Were they just discovered, or were they made?” She touched the bloodstone hidden under her collar.
“I’ve never really thought about it, but someone must have placed this bloodstone in the amulet.
That means the stones could be hidden in anything. ”
Carver was less concerned with the history of the bloodstones, and more worried about the effect they had on his wife. “Does the amulet feel any different to you after encountering another bloodstone?”
She slowly shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ve gotten so used to it, I think I’d notice any change.” A hint of frustration entered her voice as she said, “I’ve always known the bloodstones were dangerous, but I’ve gotten far too comfortable with mine.”
Tension climbed in his shoulders. “How often do you actively use it?”
Her eyes lifted to his. “I don’t know.”
The soft answer sent a chill down his spine.
“It’s just instinct now,” she whispered.
“Most of the time I don’t even remember reaching for its power.
Ysabel warned me that she sensed a darkness in me.
That terrifies me. Especially after what I felt today.
The sheer power in that room . . .” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head.
“I can’t imagine trying to wield both bloodstones at the same time. I think it would break me.”
His gut clenched. “You’ll never have to try. Whenever Felinus figures out how to destroy the bloodstones, we can let him know where the dagger is. It will be his problem.”
She drew back slightly. “We can’t just leave a bloodstone here when we go to Westmont.”
“Why not? That second stone isn’t our responsibility.”
A shadow crossed her face. “I’m beginning to think we might be responsible for all of them.”
Confusion rocked him. “What do you mean?”
She exhaled, her eyes searching his. Then she rose, crossing to the wardrobe. He stood as well, a wary sort of anticipation building as he watched her dig around inside.
When she turned back to him, she was holding Von’s journal.
Carver tensed. He’d never liked that book, or the fact Amryn had seemed so engrossed by it. Though, now that he thought about it, it had been a while since he’d seen her reading it.
Amryn made her way back over to him. “I think I found something in here. It frightened me, so I stopped looking in the journal entirely. But after today . . .”
He held his breath as she drew a loose page from the journal and handed it to him.
His eyes traced over the lines that tracked down the page. “It looks like a poem.”
“I think it’s more than that,” Amryn said. “I kept seeing repeated words throughout the journal. Always in a certain order.” Her grip on Von’s journal tightened. “Read it.”
Frowning, Carver turned back to the single sheet of paper. The hairs on his arms lifted as he took in the eerie words.
When he finished, he lowered the page. “What is this supposed to be?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, looking far too serious. “But it almost sounds like a prophecy.”
Carver stared at her. “You think Von had a gift that allowed him to see the future?”
Red tinged her cheeks. “I don’t know. But it’s possible.”
He shook his head, eyeing the page in his hand. “It sounds like something out of a fantastical novel. Not real life.”
“I know, but . . . There’s something else.” She pulled a second loose paper from the journal and handed it to him. Two short lines stood out.
The line must end. It is the only way.
The empire must fall. Only then can the world survive.
Amryn’s voice was quiet as she said, “Whether what Von saw was real or not, I think he believed it. And whatever dark future he saw, he thought it could be avoided if the empire was destroyed. If the Vayne line ended.”
Carver met her gaze, his stomach tightening. “You think that’s why he betrayed the emperor. Why he killed the empress and Argent’s parents.” Why he’d tried to kill Argent.
“I think it’s a possibility.” Her lips pursed. “Von must have had complete confidence in his gift. I think that’s the only way he could have justified killing people he knew. People who trusted him.”
Carver eyed the words on the page, tension thrumming through him.
This talk of prophecies and the supernatural made his skin crawl.
“We can speculate, but we’ll never know what Von was thinking.
And even if he had visions, that doesn’t mean they’re perfect predictions.
There are too many variables. People have free will, which means the future isn’t set in stone. Destiny doesn’t exist.”
Amryn didn’t respond right away, though she took the page back. She studied the words, a small furrow in her brow. “The words seem . . . personal, somehow. I’m not sure how else to describe it. Like I’m meant to know them. Like these words are a warning . . . for me.”
The hairs on his arms lifted. “That’s not possible.”
“‘The Flame, shaped by betrayal that ends in violent death,’” she quoted softly.
She swallowed, her eyes meeting Carver’s.
“My father’s betrayal led to my mother’s murder.
That certainly shaped who I am. And this line—” She tapped it out on the paper as she read, “‘The Flame must choose to heal.’ Heal, Carver, like I have the ability to heal people.” Her lips pursed, her eyes nearly overtaken by shadows as she looked at him.
“What if I’m the Flame Von was talking about? ”
He instantly shook his head. “Amryn—”
“I know it sounds insane, but look.” She pointed to the words on the page as she read, “‘The Sword, stained by the blood of enemies and innocents.’” She glanced up at him, pain ghosting in her eyes. “You’re a warrior, Carver. And what you experienced in Harvari left its mark on you. Stained you.”
Tension coiled in his shoulders. He glanced back at the lines about The Sword—and immediately wished he hadn’t.
The Sword, stained by the blood of enemies and innocents.
The Sword must break; break and be mended, so it can shatter anew.
The Sword will defend, and be defeated.
Failure. That was the word that echoed in his mind when he read those lines.
He met her gaze. “I don’t believe in prophecies.”
“I’m not sure I do either. But this all just seems too coincidental.
” She took the page from him and scanned the words.
“The Dragon could be a metaphor for the bloodstones. Some of the lines seem to fit. And the Storm—well, I guess that could be referring to the bloodstones as well. Or maybe an event? Von feared the ending of the very world, so maybe—”
He tugged the paper from her, meeting and holding her almost frenzied gaze. “Even if this is a prophecy of some future, it doesn’t mean it’s our future.”
She didn’t look like she fully believed him, but at least she was considering his words.
He tried a different tactic. “Your theory hinges on the fact that Von had visions of the future. That’s a huge leap. If Von could see the future, how did he fail to kill Argent all those years ago? How was he caught by the knights?”
“No gift is infallible,” Amryn argued. “Besides, we don’t know the limits of his gift. Maybe he was able to see some things, but not everything. Or maybe he just couldn’t see his own future.” She shook her head. “I’d feel better if I could share the journal with Ysabel.”
He blinked. “The fortune-telling empath?”
“Yes. Ysabel can glimpse pieces of the past when she touches a person or an object. I want to know what she sees when she touches this journal. It might be the only way to learn more about Von and why he wrote these words.”
Carver was already shaking his head. “Going to Ysabel is too much of a risk. For both of you.”
“If we can learn something about this—or the bloodstones—it would be worth the risk.”
Carver didn’t agree. At all. But he could clearly read the stubborn set of Amryn’s jaw, and he knew she would not let this go.
Sighing, he set his limits. “We go together, and you’re not leaving my sight. If Ysabel refuses to use her gift in front of me, then we leave. If at any point I deem things unsafe, we leave—no argument. And you won’t tell Ysabel about the bloodstone.”
Amryn immediately nodded, the light in her eyes a little too eager. “I’ll send her a message and see when she can meet with us.”
Saints, he hoped he wouldn’t regret this.