Chapter 19
Amryn
Amryn’s eyes peeled open. Darkness shadowed the room, a quiet stillness in the air marking the middle of the night. Soft beams of pale moonlight filtered through the latticed windows, illuminating the emptiness of the bed beside her.
She bit her lip, her eyes drawn to the partially open balcony doors. She couldn’t see Carver on the terrace, but she knew he was there. The frenetic restlessness that rattled through him, keeping him awake, had pulled her from sleep.
Her body whispered against the sheets as she slid from the bed, her bare feet brushing the cool stone floor. She lifted the lightweight robe lying on the chest at the end of the bed and shrugged into it as she padded softly toward the fresh night air.
Carver stood with his hands planted on the stone railing, his scarred back to her.
The marks appeared starker after what Jayveh had shared with her that morning.
Amryn’s heart ached, and she wished she had the ability to take away the pain he’d suffered.
Unfortunately, her gift of healing didn’t work that way.
Carver’s head was bowed, but it lifted as she approached. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I was trying not to wake you.”
She huffed a weak laugh. “It’s a miracle I fell asleep at all, considering everything that happened today.
” She’d endured an interview with a knight.
And even though it had been terrifying, the bloodstone’s protection had remained in place the entire time.
The whole experience had certainly made her interview with General Morelli and General Keats feel less intimidating.
Even dinner with Cregon and Elowen hadn’t felt as nerve-wracking as it might have otherwise.
Carver’s eyes clouded. “You were right. We should have left the moment we heard the knights were on their way.”
“No, you were right. If we’d left, we would have drawn suspicion. One of the knights would have followed us to Westmont.”
His grip on the stone railing tightened, tendons flexing under bronzed skin. “I promised I’d protect you from them.”
“I’m safe,” she reminded him.
His dark brows drew together. “Because of the bloodstone.”
The moment they’d both finished their interviews with the knights and were safely back in their room, Amryn had explained how the bloodstone had helped shield her.
While she could sense Carver’s overall relief that she’d been protected, he hadn’t lost his suspicion of the bloodstone.
Truthfully, she hadn’t either. Even though it had protected her, Felinus’s warnings remained at the forefront of her mind, as did the chilling memory of what it had felt like to use the bloodstone in Esperance.
But she didn’t have a choice. There was no way the emperor would let them leave until after the ball, and Rhone Quinn was here to stay.
Like it or not, she needed the bloodstone.
Carver hadn’t been thrilled, but after a short debate, they’d reached the same conclusion: until they left the capital, she needed to keep the bloodstone close.
“I hate that you have to rely on that thing,” Carver muttered, clearly following her thoughts.
“I hate it, too,” she admitted. The bloodstone frightened her, but if carrying it kept her alive . . . “It won’t be for long,” she said, trying to soothe him—and perhaps herself. “I’ll be careful with it,” she added. She cracked a weak smile. “I’ll tell you if I start hearing voices in my head.”
The feeble joke only served to darken Carver’s mood. “Promise me you won’t draw power from it. Use it to shield yourself, but don’t use it to heal anyone.”
A desperate fear writhed inside him, making it easy for her to say, “I promise.”
Some of the tension in his shoulders eased, but his exhaustion was painfully evident.
Amryn winced. “How long have you been out here?”
“Not long.”
She didn’t know if she believed him. Insomnia wasn’t something new for Carver. He’d struggled with it in Esperance as well. After everything Jayveh had told her, Amryn had a greater understanding of why.
Carver’s emotions were a turbulent storm, barely banked.
They ebbed and flowed, moving so quickly she couldn’t always interpret them.
But she knew his demons were plaguing him tonight.
That the helplessness and vulnerability he felt weren’t exclusively about the bloodstone and the knights.
There was an underlying sense of isolation, as if Carver were an island, surrounded by nothing but violent, churning waves.
She hated that he felt alone. Wished he would confide in her, so they could battle his demons together. But she knew that was a choice he had to make.
“You don’t have to stay,” he murmured into the silence.
Her eyes found his in the darkness. She could still feel the whisper of his touch as he’d traced the word breathe against her skin. Reassuring her amid her fear that she wasn’t alone. That he was with her.
“I want to stay,” she whispered.
Carver’s throat flexed as he swallowed. A wave of gratitude rolled through him. “Thank you,” he said, his voice a little rough.
Sensing he needed her presence more than her words, she shifted closer, their arms grazing as she rested her hands near his on the stone railing.
The night air was warm, a novelty she still wasn’t used to even after living in the jungle for months.
The foreign scents of jasmine, citrus, and hyssop were further evidence that she was far from home.
She followed Carver’s stare to the city that sprawled far below, taking in the glowing lights of gently lit windows.
Long roads branched out in organized rows, with mansions and various buildings stretching out in the distance.
It seemed wrong that this city she’d always feared was peaceful, but that’s exactly how Zagrev looked in the softness of night.
Standing beside Carver, she let her mind wander to the dinner they’d shared with Cregon and Elowen earlier that night.
She had been quiet as they’d made their way down the hall to the large Vincetti suite where Cregon and Elowen were staying. Carver’s sister had greeted them warmly, the only sign of distress coming as she apologized for Berron’s absence.
He had not accepted his invitation.
The dinner had gone quite smoothly, Amryn thought. Elowen had done a masterful job keeping the conversation flowing. She’d asked questions about their time in Esperance, reminisced with Carver over stories from their childhood, and she’d told Amryn about some of her favorite shops in Zagrev.
Cregon had watched Amryn closely throughout the evening. Uneasiness had squirmed inside her, even though she could feel that he was monitoring her out of concern. He was probably still wondering why she’d faltered so much at the council meeting. Thankfully, he didn’t ask.
When they’d all risen to say their goodnights, Carver had embraced his sister with a long, fierce hug.
The love between the two siblings made Amryn’s heart warm, even if she felt a slight twinge of envy.
Tiras had never felt such open, all-consuming love for her.
His affection had been detached. A curious fascination, almost. He’d cared for her in his own way—at least, he had before he’d shut off his emotions—but that care had often come with an edge of possessiveness.
Amryn tilted her head back, gazing up at the sea of stars overhead.
She had always been enchanted by the night sky.
Tonight, she found herself remembering early childhood memories of looking at the stars with Tiras and their parents.
She remembered how Tiras had often stood apart from them.
How her mother had always wandered over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders.
Amryn had been so young, she’d often grown tired before Tiras was ready to go back inside.
Her father would scoop her up into his arms and hold her, telling her softly about constellations she’d long forgotten.
Her chest constricted. She hadn’t thought of those quiet nights in years, but she remembered how safe she’d felt.
She’d often fallen asleep cradled in her father’s arms. Even now, she could remember the warm brush of his kiss against her temple.
The scratch of his short beard against her skin.
The low whisper of his voice as he said, “I love you, little one. More than all the stars in the sky.”
An ache pierced her heart. In those quiet moments, had her father known that one day he would betray his family to the knights?
Had every whispered word of love been a lie?
If so, how had she never felt the deception?
Other than the growing strain between her parents and the hushed fights she’d overheard in those final weeks, there had been no warning.
And that frightened her more than the betrayal itself.
Because when her father had smiled at her, held her, and whispered his love, it had felt real.
Until everything she’d known—everything she’d believed in—had been ripped away in one violent night.
“What is that?”
Carver’s soft question was loud in the silence, startling Amryn from her thoughts. She frowned in confusion. “What?”
He tipped his head toward her hand. “I saw it in Esperance, but after everything that happened, I forgot to ask you about it.”
Amryn glanced down, blinking when she realized she was running her thumb over the tarnished coin she always kept with her, even in the pocket of her nightdress.
“It’s a prayer coin,” she explained. “It’s a relic from an old Ferradin religion.
” She glanced down at the worn surface of the coin.
Her chest felt a little tight as she added more softly, “It belonged to my mother.”
Understanding filled his gaze. “May I?” he asked.
Amryn hesitated, then held out the coin.