Chapter 30 #2
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I can’t imagine what that must have been like,” her father said, joining Amaya and Victor on the sofa and rubbing Amaya’s back. “He was a good friend to you. And you don’t need to worry—I’ll see all that gets sorted out.”
“Okay” was the only word Amaya could get out without letting the tears win. She slumped against her father’s sturdy shoulder, hugging Daisy closer. There had been no time to fully grieve Camden’s death, and there still wasn’t time.
“Someone will need to come by and ask some questions,” Victor said, stiff and unhelpful as ever. “They’ll want to get an official statement and start a search for the body based on the last known location.”
“Yes, yes. All in good time,” her father muttered, continuing to rub Amaya’s back.
“Lake Anna,” Amaya said weakly. “He died at Lake Anna.”
“I’ll have a search party sent out at once,” her father said. “Sweetheart, why don’t you go get some rest? We have enough to start with.”
“No, I need to talk to Victor about what happened at—”
“There will be time for that later.”
“No! There’s no time.” Amaya wrestled with her emotions, fighting for composure. She sat up and closed her eyes, sucking in three deep, shaky breaths.
Sebastian. Edmund. Will.
“I want to talk about what . . . what happened at Starcrest,” she said, turning her attention to Victor. “About the men you arrested.”
He stiffened, thick eyebrows angling down. “Perhaps your father is right. We can speak about that when you’re feeling better. I wouldn’t want to upset you further.”
“No, now,” Amaya insisted. A fresh waterfall of tears threatened to spill over at any moment, but she focused every scrap of energy on the two men she had to save. On appearing stable enough to make such a request and be taken seriously.
“Sebastian and Edmund are my friends. They helped me escape Lord Graven’s ship. I want you to release them.”
“Amaya, you can’t be serious,” her father said, his forehead creasing.
Victor’s jaw clenched. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. They’ve confessed to being members of Graven’s crew. Piracy is punishable by death, and if that wasn’t enough, they were carrying relic weapons, firearms . . .”
“I was carrying a firearm, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Believe me, I haven’t. But they put it in your hands. Am I wrong?” He lifted one brow, a silent challenge to reveal the full extent of her illicit activities.
“Victor, that’s quite enough talk of pirates in front of my daughter,” Amaya’s father snapped. “Can’t you see she’s still in shock? Amaya, we’ll hear no more of it.”
Amaya fisted her skirt, seconds away from exploding.
“I’m fine.” It was a lie, but it helped to know Edmund and Sebastian had told Victor they were from Graven’s crew.
She could work with that. “I want to talk about it now. I think their involvement in my escape more than negates any punishment they might face for—”
“No. More,” her father repeated.
Amaya bristled, looking between the two men with increasing frustration. “Do you want to know what happened or not?”
“I said enough!”
Amaya’s father was typically loving and attentive, on the rare occasions he happened to be present. But for a split second, the father was replaced by the former general.
Amaya ground her teeth. She knew better than to keep pushing when that tone came out, but she couldn’t help the way her face flushed with anger. It was the same tone he’d used when he’d found out about her and Camden six months ago.
Victor stood, leaning on his cane. His knuckles were white and his face red, betraying his own anger simmering beneath the surface of his skin.
“I apologize, sir. You’re absolutely right.” He looked at Amaya. “We’ll speak later.”
“Nobody is listening to me,” Amaya gritted out. Her mind reeled for a way to make them pay attention.
“We’re listening,” her father said, “but you’ve been through a lot. You’re not yourself, and you’re not thinking straight. For goodness’ sake, Amaya, Victor said you shot him. Is that true?”
Oh, so Victor had dared to tell him. Bold, to accuse the Lord Mayor’s daughter of such a thing.
She could deny it, but couldn’t resist the sadistic urge to make Victor sweat instead—all in the name of her helpless persona.
“I was scared!” she cried. “I didn’t want him to take me to the Coil, too.”
Amaya buried her face in her hands and bent over Daisy, who squirmed and jumped off her lap.
Victor cleared his throat. “As we discussed, sir, I don’t hold that particular altercation against her. I understand why she was frightened—I was simply concerned to find her with a weapon.”
“Yes, well. It’s not as if the Coil was ever an option for her,” her father said, putting a protective arm around Amaya’s shoulder.
“Of course not, sir.”
Amaya’s irritation mounted with each sentence exchanged. They’d always spoken about her like she wasn’t here, but the subtle indignities she used to ignore smacked her in the face now.
“Victor, at least promise me you won’t carry out a sentence before we talk,” she pleaded.
“You think I’m responsible for the judgment of—”
“Promise!” Amaya sat up and glared at him. “Delay the sentence. Say you’re looking for more evidence or whatever the hell it is you do. Promise.”
He held her stare for a long, intense moment. Amaya saw the muscles in his hand twitch, a vein throbbing in his forehead. But here, in her house, in her father’s company, her wishes counted for something . . . and he knew it.
Victor sighed, glancing away. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you.”
“Victor, if I could have a private word before you leave?” her father asked.
“Certainly, sir.”
Amaya stayed seated, chewing on her lip as they headed for the door. Delaying the sentence was a start, but it wasn’t enough. With her father blocking the conversation, she couldn’t push Victor any further or tempt his compliance now.
“Let’s go to dinner,” she said abruptly. The men turned, and Amaya looked straight at Victor. “Tomorrow. Just us.”
She needed a private, captive audience. Dinner would accomplish both.
Her father was the first to protest. “Amaya, you need to rest. And Alastor Graven is still at large. I’d feel better if you stayed home until he’s apprehended.”
“No. I feel fine.” She didn’t; she was exhausted and unraveling from the inside out, but she’d rest when this was over. “Victor is perfectly qualified to protect me. I’m quite tired of being locked in a room, and I don’t need coddling.”
Her father winced as if her words physically hurt him. He looked to Victor, then Amaya.
“I’m going to call a physician first,” he said. “If you’re cleared . . . you may go. Provided, of course, that Victor is agreeable.”
Both Amaya and her father turned to Victor, who suddenly looked like a mouse caught in a trap.
Amaya put her faith in the suspicion that he lived under her father’s thumb just as much as she did, that he still wanted everything a courtship with Amaya Sinclair afforded him.
And when he responded, she knew she was right.
“It would be my pleasure.”