Chapter 21 Amryn #2
Then the full import of Bram’s words finally hit.
He knew Amryn had been part of the Rising.
He’d discussed it with Rix and Torin. The very thought made her cringe.
That the two men she’d always trusted implicitly—the men who had raised her—had exposed her treason to someone, even someone as trusted as Bram, made her skin prickle.
Her heart squeezed, and betrayal curled low in her gut.
Then shame washed through her. Because theirs wasn’t the only betrayal.
She’d told Carver and Argent about Rix and Torin’s involvement with the Rising, limited as it was.
And while she may have ensured fair trials and possible leniency for them, they would always be under the emperor’s scrutiny.
She’d done that, to save lives. She’d risked their safety to protect the very people they would have considered enemies. Carver. Argent. Jayveh.
She pressed a fist to her chest, though that did little to ease her breaths.
Bram’s expression gentled. “I know this must be a shock. Rix debated telling you about me, but he ultimately decided against it since there was no way for you to call upon me for aid. I’m sorry if you’ve felt alone, my lady.
” His jaw firmed. “And if you’ve been harmed, we will burn down the entire empire to avenge you. ”
Pain lanced through her—because he was completely serious.
Bram Davies had been her uncle’s trusted bodyguard for years, which meant he’d been a fixture in her life as well.
She wasn’t especially close to him—truthfully, she wasn’t close to many people.
It was safer that way. But she’d known Bram for years.
Generally quiet, but always kind. He’d given her small candies when she was a little girl to distract her while waiting impatiently for Rix to come out of some meeting or other.
Bram had even brought her flowers once, when she was terribly ill and unable to leave her bed.
He could be deadly in battle, but he was gentle in spirit.
At least with her. And now he was a rebel.
Someone else she would have to betray, if she was going to remain loyal to Carver.
Everything suddenly hurt.
Bram must have seen her distress. With a low curse, he came forward and wrapped her in an embrace.
She held on tightly, even though she couldn’t remember a time they’d ever hugged before. At least not since she was a child.
“It’s all right,” he said, his rolling Ferradin accent a surprisingly potent comfort. “It’s going to be all right now.”
Tears burned her eyes. Hearing his voice, feeling his strong arms around her, reminded her of her uncle’s love. Of Torin. Of home. Emotion pinched her throat. “This is a great risk for you,” she managed to whisper.
Bram drew back, his hands gripping her arms as he met her eyes. His own glinted with sudden brightness. “I have no regrets, Lady Amryn. Joining the Rising . . . it has given me new purpose. Something to truly fight for.”
Amryn had never sensed a burn of rebellion in Bram. Had it been carefully banked, or was it newly stoked? It didn’t truly matter. The moment she shared his name, he would be arrested. Interrogated. Possibly tortured. And then he’d be executed.
Her heart cracked, and guilt soured her stomach. She couldn’t do it.
But she couldn’t keep this secret from Carver. She refused to do so.
Perhaps she could bargain for a fair trial for Bram—the same as she’d done for Torin and Rix. But would that be enough to save him? Would it be enough to save any of them?
Bram frowned. “Lady Amryn? Are you all right?”
She shook her head, struggling to think through all the ramifications of whatever choice she made. “I just had no idea you’d be here,” she finally said.
Bram’s concern relaxed. “It’s a shock, I’m sure.” His brow furrowed. “I need to know what happened at Esperance. My superior is desperate to know everything. Obviously, no one discovered you’re a rebel, or you’d be in a cell.”
“I . . .” Amryn’s throat pinched shut as realization struck. Bram thought she was still loyal to the Rising. Had Tam not reported Amryn’s betrayal yet? Or had word simply not reached the rebels in the capital?
Saints, Amryn had feared the Rising might seek her out in retribution—not to come to her for help. And she certainly hadn’t expected Bram. She had no idea how to proceed. No clue what she should say. What would Carver do?
Learn everything you can.
It was like she heard his voice, a whisper of calm in the center of her chaotic thoughts.
If the Rising was operating in the palace, then the danger they posed was very real. Not only to Carver, but to Jayveh as well. What if the Rising had sent that assassin to kill her? She needed to find out.
She met Bram’s stare. “Did the Rising try to kill Jayveh two nights ago?”
His brow furrowed. “No.”
She didn’t sense a lie, but she still pressed, “It couldn’t have been a mission you were left out of?”
He shook his head. “I would have been brought in for something like that—especially with my position as a palace guard.” The implication in his words was horribly clear, as was his determined resolution. If asked, Bram would have helped assassinate Jayveh.
Suddenly, his fingers around her arms felt too constrictive. But she resisted pulling away. Just as she resisted thinking about Bram as an assassin. That he could be a danger to her best friend.
Bram’s eyes narrowed. “What happened at Esperance? I was told that you, Samuel, and Tam were all part of the Rising. Why isn’t she here?”
He hadn’t been told about Jayveh, then. Amryn wasn’t sure why.
Perhaps the Rising had wanted to keep such a potentially high-ranking spy a secret?
Or perhaps—as Tam had told them at Esperance—Jayveh’s uncle had already cast doubt on her loyalty.
Tam had been fooled by Jayveh’s act, at least for a while.
But maybe others in the Rising had already decided she couldn’t be trusted?
“Lady Amryn?” Bram asked, drawing her back to the present.
“Tam betrayed the Rising.” The lie all but leapt out of her. It was pure, defensive instinct.
Bram tensed. “That doesn’t make sense. She was chosen to lead—”
“She was fueled by a personal agenda,” Amryn cut in.
Using a shred of truth to weave her lies, she said, “Tam was angry at her father, and at the emperor, for making her go to Esperance while her mother was on her deathbed. She wanted her own revenge against them, and she used the Rising to get it. She didn’t care about the larger mission; she orchestrated her own.
She rushed things at Esperance, endangering all of us. ”
Bram muttered a curse. Agitation spiked as he released his hold on her, taking a small step back. “Are you certain she betrayed us?”
“Yes. Because of her, Samuel and I weren’t able to fulfill our parts of the larger plan.
” No need to tell Bram that Tam had gotten copies of the imperial seals, and whatever else she’d managed to steal from Esperance.
“She sabotaged everything for her own vengeance,” Amryn said firmly.
“Tam is dangerous, especially to the Rising. She’ll spin any lie to get what she wants.
She can’t be trusted.” Amryn didn’t know if that would be enough to protect her if Tam contacted the Rising and told them Amryn was the real traitor—and an empath.
But even if discrediting Tam was only a feeble defense, it was better than nothing.
Bram’s expression was grim. “Tell me everything.”
Amryn proceeded to do so—leaving select parts of the story out, of course. When she finished, Bram shook his head. “I can’t believe this . . . And Prince Argent is really dead?”
Amryn’s stomach clenched. “I believe so. But the emperor believes he’s Tam’s hostage.”
“Regardless, Tam must be found,” Bram murmured. “If we can find her first, we can know for certain what she did with Prince Argent.” His eyes darkened. “And she can be punished for betraying the Rising and endangering you. I’ll tell my superior.”
She pursed her lips, uncomfortable with Bram’s protectiveness. Not when she was being dishonest with him. Still, she asked, “Who is your superior?”
He eyed her. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
It wasn’t suspicion he felt, but there was a stirring of disquiet inside him that made her nod. “Of course. Sorry. This is just all so overwhelming . . .”
His expression softened. “I know. I’m sorry, Lady Amryn.
” He glanced toward the door. “I can’t risk staying much longer, or someone may notice the door is unguarded.
But I needed to see you. Not just to get your report on Esperance, but because things are in motion here and the Rising could use your help. ”
A chill tracked down her spine. “With what?”
“Can you make contact with Samuel?” Bram asked, instead of answering her. “We need as much help as we can get.”
“I . . . I’m sure I can get a message to him.”
Relief spiraled through him. “Good. I have some arrangements to make with my superior, but I’ll get you word as soon as I can about a meeting.
I won’t be guarding your door every day—they vary shifts here to keep us from becoming complacent at any post—but I’ll make contact again when I’m able.
In the meantime, be careful. Take no unnecessary risks. ”
The concern that poured from him made her gut churn. He was deeply concerned for her, yet she was being disloyal to him.
Bram was staring at her. Waiting for her to make some kind of reply. “I’ll be careful,” she finally managed to say, her voice a little hoarse. “Please do the same.”
Bram’s eyes softened. He set a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “You’ve been so brave, and you’ve done so much for the cause. Marrying that monster . . .”
Amryn’s heart constricted.
Bram misread her sudden tension. His eyes narrowed. “Has he hurt you?”
“No,” she said. Perhaps too quickly to be believable, because a muscle in Bram’s jaw ticked.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For all you’ve had to suffer as his wife. But you won’t have to suffer him much longer.”
Her heartrate spiked. “What do you mean?”
Bram’s eyes darkened. “Timelines may shift as plans adapt, but the end goal has always been the same. Whether the Rising gives the order or not, your uncle and King Torin never intended for you to remain married to the Butcher. Carver Vincetti is a dead man.”