Chapter 49 #3
Her heart was beating faster than it ever had during their training. And when his mouth slanted over hers, changing the angle of the kiss, her toes curled. Her grip on him tightened.
Emotions flared. Breaths quickened. Touches became more frenzied.
Carver’s hands shifted. His body flexed beneath her, muscles contracting as he rolled them. Now he was above her, most of his weight braced on one arm laid beside her head to keep from crushing her. His free hand cradled her cheek, his lips devouring hers.
She gripped his waist, urging him closer. Desperate for more.
A throat cleared loudly above them.
Amryn froze.
Carver tensed and looked up, but Amryn couldn’t see anything beyond his locked jaw.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Cregon said, his tone carefully measured. “But Amryn has some visitors.”
Her head was still spinning, her senses overwhelmed. But she now realized Carver’s father wasn’t alone. Two men were with him. Men she knew so well, she recognized the feel of their emotions instantly.
Carver moved, shifting off her and drawing her to her feet in one lithe motion.
Cheeks flaming, Amryn twisted to face the three men who watched them with varying expressions.
Cregon’s was aimed at Carver and lightly censuring.
Torin’s face registered shock.
Rix looked torn between fury and disgust.
Amryn’s stomach knotted.
Carver’s father cleared his throat again, the sound no less embarrassing the second time. “They arrived at the palace soon after you left to train,” Cregon explained. “They wanted to see Amryn right away.” And he had brought them, clearly never expecting to find Carver and Amryn as they had.
She might die of mortification.
Carver’s hand landed on the small of her back. “King Torin,” he greeted, his voice smooth and respectful, despite the tension humming inside him. “Lord Varden.”
Her uncle’s lip curled.
Torin’s eyes flickered between Carver and Amryn. His growing unease made it clear he would like to see some distance between them. But that might be more for his friend’s sake, judging from the worried look he gave Rix.
Her uncle was glaring at Carver, a vein in his temple throbbing.
Amryn had known Rix and Torin were coming to Zagrev, but she hadn’t known when to expect them. Seeing them now felt a little surreal. But reality finally penetrated. She mastered her shock—and embarrassment—enough to speak, even if it was only a single word. “Rix.”
Her uncle tore his dark gaze from Carver, his focus shifting to her.
Despite the awkwardness, Amryn’s chest swelled as she took him in. She darted forward, and Rix didn’t hesitate to catch her in a firm embrace.
Her eyes stung as she breathed in deep, the familiar cedar and pine scent of him filling her lungs and her heart.
With his strong arms banded around her, the feel of his short beard against her face, she struggled not to cry.
Home. Safety. Ever since she was a child, that was what Rix had always represented for her.
“I missed you,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
Rix’s emotions were chaotic. A torrent she couldn’t hope to untangle. And yet at those words, she felt the rawness of his heartache. “I’ve missed you, too.” His voice was rougher than normal, but still achingly familiar. His accent alone was soothing.
It was a long time before he eased his grip on her. When he did, Torin was there. He gave her a half smile. “Is it my turn yet?”
She immediately embraced him. “It’s so good to see you, Torin.”
“You have no idea how relieved I am to see you’re well.” He ducked his head, pulling her closer. “Rix has been unbearable without you,” he whispered in her ear. She sensed he was only half joking.
When Amryn pulled back, she saw Carver was once again locked in a staring match with her uncle.
She cleared her throat. “Rix, you remember Carver.”
Her uncle’s eyes did not waver from him. “I remember.”
Amryn fought the urge to wince at the coldness in his voice. She swallowed and hurried on with the introductions. “Torin, this is Carver.”
She was grateful when Carver moved to stand by her side. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness. Amryn has told me a lot about you.”
The king of Ferradin studied Carver. “You look like your father,” he finally said. It was clearly not a compliment.
The tension in the air was thick. Amryn couldn’t imagine what the trip to the townhouse had been like. Torin, Rix, and the Bloody General all in close proximity. Saints.
Cregon shifted closer to his son. He and Carver were now facing Rix and Torin, with Amryn standing between them. “Why don’t we go inside?” Carver’s father said. “We can have a drink before dinner.”
Dinner. Rix and Torin, sharing a table with the Vincettis? Amryn nearly grimaced at the thought.
“I’d like a moment alone with my niece,” Rix said, his tone brooking no argument.
Carver stiffened, but Cregon gripped his arm before meeting Rix’s stare. “Of course. You can use my study.”
Amryn felt the pulse of Carver’s anxiety as the door closed, cutting her off from his view.
Rix immediately pulled her into another embrace, his emotions roiling. “Saints, Amryn. I’ve barely slept in months, I’ve been so worried. I’ve been cursing myself for ever leaving you at that bloody temple. For letting you leave home in the first place. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right—”
“It’s not.” Misery gripped him. “When we reached the palace, we learned you were here. That only half the Chosen even survived Esperance. That you’re still being targeted by assassins.
” He pulled back to meet her gaze, his hands wrapped around her arms in an unbreakable hold.
Tears shimmered in his eyes. “I could have lost you.”
Her heart squeezed as she felt his grief and fear. “You didn’t lose me. I’m safe.” She swallowed hard, holding his gaze as she said, “But I wouldn’t be, if not for Carver.”
Rix stiffened. She had a feeling the only thing he’d heard was her husband’s name. “Has he been forcing himself on you?”
Her eyes widened. “No. Never.” She was appalled at the very notion.
Carver had never been anything but kind, patient, and respectful.
She couldn’t bear to have Rix see him as some sort of villain.
But of course, that’s exactly what he saw.
He, Torin, and Bram had all planned to kill Carver in order to free her from marriage with him.
She needed to explain to Rix that she was in love with Carver.
Beg her uncle not to hurt him. And to convince Torin and Bram—
Amryn’s stomach dropped. Bram. What if he sought Rix out once they were back at the palace? Anything she told Rix, he might tell his former bodyguard. And if Bram learned that she was in love with Carver Vincetti . . .
The rebels might not trust her anymore. They might change their plans and decide to steal the dagger without her.
They might even do it some other night when the treasury wasn’t prepared.
The second bloodstone could be lost. And everything she’d done to secure a pardon for Rix and Torin might be for nothing, if she wasn’t able to help arrest the rebels who had infiltrated the palace.
Those were risks she could not take. Which meant she needed to be careful with what she told her uncle right now.
“Amryn?” Rix’s tense voice broke into her thoughts. “He hasn’t hurt you?”
“No,” she said, no hesitation. Because even if she couldn’t tell her uncle everything right now, she refused to let him believe Carver had ever caused her harm. “Carver isn’t what you think—or what I expected. He’s saved my life many times. I never would have survived Esperance without him.”
Rix’s emotions remained conflicted, a war waging inside him. Relief and anxiety. Anger and confusion. “What happened in Esperance?” he finally asked.
Even if they had time for a detailed retelling, there was so much she couldn’t share with her uncle yet.
She refused to put him in a position where he would have to lie to Bram.
But she told him what she could. About the murders, and Trevill’s guilt in them.
And about how Tam had endangered her and the rest of the Chosen with her poison.
She decided not to tell Rix that she’d healed everyone.
That would require telling him about the bloodstone, and though she trusted her uncle, something made her hesitate.
She honestly didn’t know if it was Felinus’s warnings, or the bloodstone itself prompting her to keep it a secret.
But she listened to that small whisper of caution.
When she told him that Tam knew Amryn was an empath, his already pale face lost all color. She felt his horror. The gulf of his fear and the sharp tang of his anger. “What?” he gasped. “How?”
“Someone told her.”
“Who?” he demanded.
“I don’t know.” But at least she now knew definitively that it hadn’t been Rix. His reaction had been the proof her soul had been craving, even though she’d never truly believed it was him.
“Blazing Saints,” her uncle cursed. New urgency rose in him. “Has she told anyone?”
His fears aggravated her own, making her stomach twist. “I don’t know.”
He swore again, spinning away from her with his hands on his hips. “This is my fault,” he rasped. “You’re exposed now, and it’s all my doing. I never should have let you go. Everything you’ve suffered is on my head—”
“No.” She grabbed his arm, turning him back to her.
His expression was as tortured as his emotions felt.
She squeezed his wrist. “None of this is your fault.” Feeling the deep well of his remorse and self-blame, she knew she wasn’t going to manage to change his mind right now.
Instead, she asked him a question she needed answered. “Are you a rebel?”
He blinked, clearly caught off guard. His brow furrowed. “No. You know I’m not.”
She swallowed. “Bram approached me soon after we arrived at the palace . . .”
Understanding dawned. “He told you that he’s a rebel. That I asked him to join.”
She nodded once.