Chapter 57
Amryn
Terror pounded through Amryn as she stared at Rix. Despite the muting effect of the bloodstone, she could feel the pulse of his fear. His panic.
His resolve.
His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his knife.
Amryn locked eyes with her uncle. Pleaded silently with him not to draw that blade. If he did anything right now, it would only lead to both their deaths. That, she knew with certainty.
Distantly, she was aware of Alora explaining the marriage bracelet to Rhone, who was—thankfully—a rapt listener. Amryn was also aware of the tension in Carver as he stood beside her.
The skin around Rix’s eyes tightened. He darted a look at Rhone.
Amryn rushed forward and threw her arms around her uncle. “Thank you for being so happy for me,” she said, loud enough for everyone in their circle to hear. Then—in his ear—she whispered, “I’m safe. I promise. Don’t do anything. Please.”
A tremor vibrated through Rix’s body. Then he wrapped both arms around her, leaving his knife sheathed. “All I’ve ever wanted is your happiness,” he said, his voice a little rough. Then in his own whisper, he demanded, “How?”
Torin looked on, a slight furrow marring his brow.
Amryn could just make out his confusion.
It was echoed by Cregon, who stood on the opposite side of them.
Both men were clearly wondering at the sudden embrace—and Amryn’s effusive words—when they’d both just witnessed Rix’s reaction to the marriage bracelet.
Amryn squeezed her uncle a little tighter. “I’ll explain everything later,” she murmured. When she drew back, it was clear Rix was not content with that answer.
“I’d like to add my congratulations,” Rhone said, his smile genuine as he took in Carver and Amryn—and the way Carver reached for her hand.
She twined her fingers with his, grateful for the contact. Especially when Rhone surprised her by taking her other hand, bringing it closer to inspect the bracelet.
She fought to ignore the unforgiving gold edge of the bone ring as it pressed against her skin.
Rhone glanced up at them, several emotions stirring in his chest as he said, “I’m glad something good could come from Esperance.”
“Thank you,” Carver said. His tone was deceptively calm, but his emotions were rioting.
When Rhone released her hand, she fought the urge to rub it against her skirt.
The conversation had begun to ebb and flow around them.
Alora had obviously invited Torin to Westmont for their marriage ball as well, since she was currently asking his opinion on who else from Ferradin they should invite.
Keene was asking Ivan what it was like to be in one of Sibet’s legendary Wolf Packs while Elowen stood holding Ivan’s arm, a smile on her face.
Unsurprisingly, the tension in Rix remained. It was obvious enough that Ford and Torin were both beginning to eye him.
All of that faded into the background when Amryn felt the sharpest stab of grief. Breath hitching, she looked instinctively to Berron.
Carver’s brother stood frozen, a nearly empty tumbler in his hand as he stared into the crowd. Amryn followed his gaze and immediately found Carina.
The girl Berron had loved since childhood stood several paces away, wearing a deep purple gown that accentuated her willowy form.
She was beyond beautiful, but Amryn’s stomach knotted when she realized Carina was talking to Chancellor Kulver.
When he said something that made Carina laugh, she took his offered hand.
The young chancellor grinned as he led Carina toward the nearby dance floor. When his other hand cupped her waist, drawing her closer, Amryn felt the fierce punch of Berron’s agony.
“How are you, Berron?”
Rhone’s soft-spoken words snapped Amryn—and Berron—from staring after Carina.
Berron’s nostrils flared, his knuckles white as he clenched the glass in his only hand. “Nowhere near drunk enough for this.” He threw back the remaining contents of his drink and stalked away.
Rhone stared after him, startled by the harsh response and abrupt retreat.
Alora—who had cut off her conversation with Torin and Rix—started after him, but Cregon rested a gentle hand on her arm. “Leave him be,” he murmured.
Alora’s lips pursed, a pang in her chest that made Amryn’s own heart clench.
But Alora heeded her husband’s advice, even as she watched her wounded son vanish into the crowd.
She rested her palm over the hand Cregon had placed on her arm, pinning it there.
The nearby firelight caught on her bracelet—the same one Amryn had noticed on her wrist before.
Only now, wearing her own marriage bracelet, did Amryn realize the significance of it.
“I’m sorry if I made things worse,” Rhone said quietly.
“It wasn’t you,” Amryn said quietly, surprising herself.
The knight exhaled slowly. “That’s gracious of you to say.
But I suppose I should have expected a cold reception, after all the trouble Rivard got him into.
” He darted a look at Cregon. The hard stare on the High General’s face made Rhone’s throat bob.
With one last offer of congratulations to Carver and Amryn, the knight slipped away.
Amryn expected Rix to cut to her side, but Torin beat him to it. “Amryn, may I steal a dance?”
Carver’s fingers flexed around hers, but Amryn nodded. “Of course.”
Cracking a small smile, Torin led her to join the other dancing couples.
Amryn was aware of the hard stares that tracked them. A stolen glance assured her the two men keeping close watch were Carver and Rix.
“He’s never going to stop worrying about you,” Torin said.
Amryn sighed. “I know.” Her uncle would always want to keep her safe. Torin just thought his intensity was solely because of Carver—not from the proximity of a knight.
Torin began to guide her through the steps of the dance. She wasn’t a very practiced dancer, but she moved easily enough with him, recalling long-ago afternoons spent in the empty ballroom of Ferradin’s castle. Torin had been the one to teach her to dance before her first ball.
“If Rix attempts to teach you, your toes will be bruised for weeks.”
Torin’s gentle teasing hadn’t been an exaggeration—Rix was a horribly uncoordinated dancer.
Amryn knew that because her uncle had insisted on leading her through her first public dance.
Her toes had indeed gotten bruised that night, but her heart had been full as her uncle had undertaken the honor usually reserved for a girl’s father.
Her throat tightened at the rush of memories. Saints, she’d been so lucky to have Rix and Torin.
“You love him,” Torin murmured. “Don’t you?”
There was no doubt who he meant.
Amryn looked for Carver, glimpsing him through the shifting crowd. He was still watching her, his blue eyes intent. Unable to lie, she said, “Yes.”
A ripple of apprehension went through the king of Ferradin. She also felt a muted pain, and a flood of uncertainty. But Amryn also felt his attempt to quell all of that as he said, “He must be a better man than we think, then.”
Gratitude swept through her. “He is.”
The smile Torin gave her was thin. But she could sense how much he was trying, and that made all the difference.
“Do you think Rix will ever forgive me?” she asked softly.
“Of course,” Torin said instantly. “Especially when he realizes there’s nothing to forgive.” A ripple of old sorrow rolled through him. “You can’t help who you fall in love with.” The melancholy in his voice assured her that Torin had painful experience with this.
Curiosity rose. Amryn knew that many of the nobles in Torin’s court had attempted to catch his eye over the years. While he had always been polite, Amryn couldn’t remember him ever showing favor toward one woman in particular.
“Rix may need some time,” Torin said gently, breaking into her thoughts. “We both will.” His grip on her tightened. “In so many ways, you’re still the little girl who used to cheat at cards whenever we played together.”
She snorted. “You taught me to cheat.”
A grin broke free. “I wanted Rix to think he was utterly terrible.”
She chuckled. Torin spun her once, and as she came back around, she caught the unexpected shadows in his eyes.
“Torin?” she questioned.
Seriousness gripped him, along with a pulse of sorrow and regret. “Rix told me about what happened in Esperance. I’m so sorry you were put in such danger.” He swallowed hard. “We made a mistake,” he said, his voice so low it was almost hoarse. “We never should have sent you to that temple.”
“You didn’t send me. I made the choice to go.”
Torin did not look convinced.
“Did Rix tell you about Bram?” Amryn asked, choosing to change the subject.
Torin’s gaze sharpened. “Yes.”
“There’s something I didn’t get a chance to tell Rix, but .
. .” She chose her words with care. “Bram told me that you and Rix never intended for me to remain married to Carver. But I don’t want him harmed.
” She searched his face. “I need you to swear to me that you won’t hurt him.
That you won’t let Bram or Rix hurt him, either. ”
Torin’s emotions whirled, shifting too quickly to fully track. But he swallowed hard as he dipped his chin. “I give you my word.”
Sensing his determination, relief swept through her. “Thank you.”
The dance concluded. Couples parted and applauded the musicians.
Carver appeared at her side. “May I have your next dance?” he asked her.
She smiled. “Of course.”
Torin’s grip tightened for the briefest moment before he released her. As he stepped back, he met Carver’s gaze. “Take care of her,” he said, the words carrying weight.
“I will,” Carver said, his words a clear vow.
Something flickered in Torin’s eyes. He looked at Amryn and gave her a last, slightly strained smile before he walked away.