Chapter 22 Carver
Carver
For the second time that day, Carver found himself at the palace dungeon.
This time, Ford stood beside him as they waited for the guard to fit the key in the lock.
Ford’s dark brown hair was still damp from his quick wash, and he’d changed into clean clothes.
While eating a hurried meal, Carver had relayed all that had happened since they’d parted ways in Esperance.
The ambush on the road, the assassination attempt against Jayveh, and the little they knew about Trevill’s death.
Carver could see weariness in the way Ford stood, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to convince his friend to stay in the guest room that had been prepared for him. Not when Jamir was waiting for them.
Soft footsteps brushed the floor behind them, and they both turned. Surprise lit through Carver at the sight of Amryn approaching with one of Jayveh’s bodyguards at her side.
Amryn’s sea-green eyes slid to him, and Carver frowned when he saw how clouded they were. Then she spied Ford, and a smile broke free. “Ford!”
His friend grinned, tiredness shrugged aside as he moved forward to embrace Amryn. “You heard her, Carve—she was more excited to see me.”
She pulled back just enough to lightly slap his arm.
The sight made Carver’s lips twitch.
“Hey!” Ford complained with a smile. “Can’t you just admit you missed me?”
She lifted one eyebrow. “Will it inflate your ego if I say yes?”
“Definitely.”
She rolled her eyes, but Carver heard the concern in her voice as she asked, “You’re all right?”
“Always.” A shadow fell across his face. “I didn’t find Argent, though. Or Tam.” He nodded toward the prison door. “We’re heading down to interrogate Jamir now.”
“I know.” Amryn bit her lower lip. “Jayveh asked me to meet her here.”
Carver tensed. He didn’t like the idea of either woman being present when they questioned Jamir.
Amryn’s gaze flicked to him. “This is something Jayveh needs to do,” she said softly. “Jamir is a demon she has to face. She asked me to stand with her.”
And Amryn would, because she was a loyal friend. Even if entering a prison had to be uniquely painful for an empath.
Carver exhaled slowly. He didn’t like it, but this was Amryn’s decision to make, so he simply nodded.
Just as he knew Argent would have given in to Jayveh, even though he wouldn’t have wanted his wife anywhere near her abusive uncle again.
He would have stood beside her, though, and Carver would do the same—for both women.
The guard opened the prison door, and Ford went first down the steep staircase. Carver took Amryn’s hand, the two of them descending the stone steps with Jayveh’s bodyguard trailing behind.
Strain pulled Carver’s muscles taut as they entered the prison. When Amryn’s fingers tightened around his, he realized she must be sensing his emotions. He slammed them down with brutal will, hoping that shielded her somewhat.
They reached the base of the stairs, the prison’s highest level lit with glowing lanterns affixed to the cold stone walls. The corridor was lined with holding rooms, guards standing at attention. Catching Amryn’s expression, he saw the furrow between her brows. And the clouds were back in her eyes.
Instinct rippled, and his eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong?”
Her throat flexed as she swallowed. Her eyes darted to the guards around them. “I’ll tell you later,” she murmured.
Curiosity burned, but he inclined his head in silent capitulation.
Lacing her fingers around his in silent thanks, they continued forward, following Ford toward Jamir’s holding room. Standing outside the door was the emperor, Jayveh, and their guards.
The emperor looked weary but determined, a grimness in his eyes as he surveyed their approach. After they had all bowed, he looked to Jayveh. “Are you sure about this, my dear?”
The princess’s jaw firmed. “Yes.”
The emperor’s expression tightened, but he nodded, and the guards unlocked the door. They all filed in, and when it was time for Carver and Amryn to go through the doorway, he let her precede him, his hand moving to settle against her lower back.
A large table dominated the room, and the emperor moved to take a seat there.
His guards remained near, even though the room’s only prisoner was in no position to attack.
Jamir, King of Xerra—though probably not for much longer—sat on a bench along the back wall, his chains securing him there.
The man seemed shorter than Carver remembered, though it had been years since he’d seen Jamir.
He had dark skin, similar in tone to Jayveh’s, but that’s where the similarities ended.
Jayveh took the open chair beside the emperor, and Amryn sat on her other side. When Carver moved to stand behind her, he caught his wife’s calm expression. He knew it was a mask. As she stared at Jamir’s furious face, he hated to think that she was feeling the man’s rage.
Ford had just taken up the same protective position behind Jayveh when Jamir—who had been breathing thinly as they entered—suddenly seethed, “Your Eminence, this is incomprehensible. I am a king, and a loyal servant to the empire. I swore fealty to Craethen years ago. Whatever this treacherous girl—” a sharp look to Jayveh— “has said to you, I assure you she’s lying.
She has undermined me ever since you entrusted me with her father’s crown. She is a grasping, conniving—”
“Enough,” the emperor snapped. The strength in his voice came from a dark fury that made even Jamir shrink back.
“You will not disparage her again,” the emperor ordered.
“You are speaking of my granddaughter. The woman who carries my great-grandchild. And your future empress. You will respect her, or you will lose your tongue.”
Jamir paled. His eyes dropped to search for the slight curve of Jayveh’s belly, which was mostly hidden by the table. “You—You carry Argent’s child?” he asked, clearly startled.
Jayveh’s voice was flat as she said, “Yes. And since I answered your question, you will answer mine. Where is my husband? And where is Tam?”
Jamir stared at her. Carver wondered what Amryn was gleaning from him during his silence; if she read guilt, surprise, or something else entirely.
The man’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he said, “I have no idea where they are. How should I know?” He shot a venomous look at Ford.
“That imp showed up at my castle and all but dragged me from my bed. I wasn’t even given a chance to offer a word of instruction to my steward!
I was questioned, my castle searched, and then I was chained up like a common criminal in front of my entire court! ”
“You are a member of the Rising,” Jayveh said. “There’s no point in denying it, Uncle. I’ve told them everything.”
Loathing speared across his face, but it was gone in an instant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t bother with lies,” the emperor said. “All you can do now is cooperate fully and pray to the Divinities your sentence is lightened.”
Jamir’s hands fisted on his knees, making the chains around his wrists rattle. “There is no evidence. Nothing but her word against mine—”
“Her word is enough for me,” the emperor interrupted firmly. “You will confess now or later—but I assure you, now would be much easier for you.”
Jamir’s nostrils flared. He glared briefly at Jayveh, and then his eyes darted over Amryn, Ford, and finally Carver. His eyes lingered there, something like fear sparking through them. Carver knew the man was seeing the Butcher in this moment. He edged out a lethal smile.
Jamir actually flinched.
The words spilled out quickly then. He confessed to joining the Rising, though he assured them he hadn’t actually been a traitor. He had joined the Rising only as a way to gain their trust so he could pass information along to the emperor—that was all.
No one believed him.
He then swore that the Rising didn’t fully trust him. That he was a lesser member. They gave him no other instructions beyond sending Jayveh to Esperance and ensuring her cooperation to their cause.
“I should have known,” he muttered, shooting a look at his niece. “When Cregon Vincetti all but forced me to surrender those idiot brothers of yours so he could take them to Westmont, I should have known you’d betrayed me.”
Jayveh’s hard expression didn’t falter. “Did Tam come to you for aid after she fled Esperance?”
“No.”
“Do you know where she would have gone for help?”
“No.”
“Do you know what the rebels might want from Argent?” the emperor asked. “Why they would abduct him?”
“No, Your Eminence.”
Frustration thinned Jayveh’s voice. “Who are your contacts in the Rising? Perhaps they might actually know something of value.”
Jamir’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t rise to the bait in her barbed words. “I was never heavily involved in anything. As for my contacts, we used carefully guarded messages and codes. I don’t know any names.”
“That has to be a lie,” Jayveh said. “They clearly knew you, and a cockroach like you would have demanded the same knowledge in order to protect yourself.”
A vein in his temple throbbed. “I truly don’t know their names.”
Carver shifted his weight—just enough to draw the man’s eye.
Jamir cringed slightly. “I don’t know who my contacts are, but . . . I may have deduced the identities of a couple important rebels.”
“Who?” the emperor demanded.
Jamir’s eyes skated over the room once more, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He took a slow breath, then said, “Rix Varden, chief advisor to the king of Ferradin.”
Amryn stiffened.
Jamir’s attention settled on Carver. “And Berron Vincetti, son of the High General of Craethen.”