Chapter 44
Carver
The meeting in the throne room was a somber affair. The emperor had never looked more defeated than he did as Morelli and Keats reported on their findings at Market Square.
Thirty-seven innocents were confirmed dead. Many more were wounded, and many of them would likely die in the coming days. The final death toll wouldn’t be known for a week or more, but they already knew it was too high.
The city guard had managed to capture only four rebels. Two were grievously injured, but they would all be interrogated. No one in the room expected to learn much.
The Rising had been horrifically calculated in their attack.
They hadn’t targeted Zagrev’s busiest square, probably in an effort to avoid a faster response from the city guard.
They’d fired from the rooftops, where they didn’t expect to meet any resistance.
And they’d planted men with knives at every alleyway and road around the square to catch any who tried to flee.
The attack was a shocking blow to the emperor’s shining city. And a chillingly clever tactic. It was far easier to attack a city square than to lay siege to the emperor’s palace, yet it was just as demoralizing—if not more so—to the people of Craethen.
Truthfully, Carver hadn’t thought the Rising capable of such depravity. To kill innocents like they had today . . . It revealed how truly monstrous they were.
He and Rhone shared their report. Hatred shined in the emperor’s eyes as he learned Tam was in Zagrev. “I want her found,” he growled, his knuckles leeched of color as he strangled the arms of his throne.
Carver tensed. Now that he knew the full risk to Amryn if Tam was caught .
. . Saints, he wanted justice for Argent, but if the cost was Amryn’s safety—possibly her life—there was no debate about what he’d choose.
Which was why his tension only grew as Keats assured the emperor that every city guardsman was looking for Tam, as well as the rebels responsible for today’s attack.
Hector—who had been dutifully recording all of this—spoke for the first time. “Should we arrest Bram right now?”
Morelli frowned. “I would advise against that. We don’t know that he was involved in the attack on the square, but we do know he’s at work in the palace. I think it would be better to wait and trap him and his compatriots—including his superior—at the emperor’s ball as planned.”
“When is the tour for the Chosen scheduled?” Carver’s father asked.
“In one week,” Hector said. He knew, since he was the one leading the tour. It was an elaborate ruse, but Amryn, Ivan, and Samuel needed to “discover” where the Dagger of Hafsin was kept.
When the meeting finally concluded—after a good four hours where they debated their next moves, tried to guess what the Rising’s next steps might be, and discussed what reassurances the citizens of Zagrev needed after such a heinous attack—Carver and Cregon left the room together.
The corridors were surprisingly empty. Carver assumed most everyone wanted to be secured behind a locked door tonight, with their loved ones gathered close.
Stars glittered beyond the glass windows they passed.
By mutual agreement, they stopped to check in on Ford.
He was tired from blood loss, and infection was always a risk, but the physician seemed confident he’d be back on his feet in a couple of weeks.
It would take a couple weeks beyond that to regain his full strength, however.
Ford also informed them that Carver’s mother had been by.
Cregon was still grumbling about it as they approached Carver’s room.
“Blazing Saints,” he muttered. “That woman is going to be the death of me. She’s given me more gray hairs than any of you have.
” There were equal parts exasperation and affection in his tone.
As they neared the room, they heard Alora’s voice pouring through the closed door. Carver led the way inside.
He found his mother seated at Amryn’s bedside, struggling to talk through her laughter.
“. . . he was completely drenched, mind you, dripping all over my kitchen floor. And I said, ‘Carver, what by all the Saints happened?’ And he looked me dead in the eye, with a seriousness no seven-year-old should possess, and said, ‘Nothing. Why do you ask?’”
Laughter burst from Amryn, and something in Carver settled as he watched his mother and his wife laugh together.
Amryn wiped at her eyes, which glittered with tears as she struggled to breathe. She caught sight of Carver and laughed harder, her cheeks flushed and her scarlet curls wild around her face. Her beauty struck him once more. He could have stared at her forever, watching her laugh just like that.
“Carver!” His mother straightened in her chair when she caught sight of him, her voice still full of mirth. “And Cregon, my love!”
Carver crossed the room, aware of his father closing the door behind them. He embraced his mother, who had stood to greet him. He set a quick kiss to her cheek. “Father’s cross with you,” he warned.
“Well, I’m cross with him.”
“I can hear you both, you know,” Cregon drawled.
As Carver released his mother, he caught sight of Amryn’s small smile. Though her laughter had faded, her eyes remained bright. He didn’t hesitate to lean down, palming her cheek with one hand as he took her lips in a soft, too brief kiss.
When he pulled back, he saw his mother and father standing before each other.
Cregon set his hands on his hips as he eyed his wife. “I thought I told you to stay home.”
“You did. I just didn’t listen.” She placed a peck on his scowl, then patted his arm. “I brought my knife and four of your best men. I was perfectly safe.” Her eyes narrowed. “Amryn, however, was not, as you told me, fine.”
Cregon sighed, letting his arms fall. “She wasn’t in mortal danger—”
“Is that your definition of fine?”
His lips pursed. “This is not an argument I’m going to win, is it?”
Alora huffed. “Very astute of you, High General.”
Cregon wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer so he could kiss her.
Carver fought a smile as he took a seat on the chair closest to Amryn. “How long has she been here?” he asked.
“A couple of hours.”
Carver searched her face but saw no sign that she was uncomfortable with the visit, even though she’d only met his mother once before.
Amryn glanced over at Alora and Cregon, as she said, “She’s wonderful.”
“I believe your husband told you that once,” Carver said.
The corner of her lips twitched. “He may have mentioned it.”
He grinned, then set a hand on her knee, squeezing lightly. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”
Alora chuckled, making it clear she’d heard his words as she and Cregon moved closer. “You’ll really regret it once you learn some of the stories I shared with Amryn.”
He groaned. “How embarrassed should I be right now?”
“Very,” Alora and Amryn said together. They shared a smile, then his mother said, “I told her about the time Loreena convinced you that you could fly, and you nearly broke your neck jumping off a cliff.”
“I trust you told her I was smart enough to at least jump into the ocean.”
“I did. She wasn’t reassured.”
Carver looked over at Amryn. “In my defense, I was six.”
“I remember being six,” his wife said. “And I was quite certain by that age that I couldn’t fly.”
“Yes, well, you didn’t have Loreena as an older sister. She was amazingly convincing.”
“She must have been. As I recall, she convinced you to eat a stick.”
His father guffawed. “Saints, I’d forgotten that.”
Carver pulled a face. “I, unfortunately, will never forget.”
Amryn chuckled, her green eyes shining. “I still can’t believe you did that.”
“I can’t believe that was one of the first stories I ever shared with you.” He reached out to link their fingers, resting their twined hands on her thigh. “You must have thought me an idiot.”
Her smile softened. “Only a little bit.”
Alora beamed as she studied them. Carver was certain his mother wanted to say a hundred different things, but she merely patted Cregon’s chest and said, “We won’t keep you.”
Cregon looked down at his wife. “You’re going to insist on returning to the townhome, aren’t you?”
“Of course. My babies are there.”
Cregon dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll take you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Dearest.” He gave her a stern look. “This is an argument you won’t win.”
Alora huffed, but she didn’t press the issue. They exchanged goodnights, and then his parents were gone.
It was only then that Carver realized Ahmi wasn’t in the room.
When he asked, Amryn told him that she’d insisted her maid get some sleep.
She also shared that Berron had come by to check on her, which surprised him.
He couldn’t remember the last time Berron had sought anyone out.
But then, his concern for Amryn had been clear, just in their brief encounter in the hallway earlier.
“Jayveh and Sadia also came,” Amryn said. “They brought flowers.” She nodded to a large arrangement sitting on the bedside table.
“They’re pretty,” he said.
Amryn raised an eyebrow. “You like pink and purple flowers?”
“I like anything that makes you happy.”
She shook her head at him, but any exasperation she wanted to convey was somewhat ruined by her smile. “Theirs wasn’t an entirely social visit,” she said. “Before our next meeting with Hector about the ball, we’re supposed to finalize what potted flowers we want around the dancefloor area.”
“A very important task.”
“Hector seems to think so.” She rolled her eyes. “I know now why Jayveh wanted to pull Sadia and me into this. She didn’t want to deal with Hector on her own. Has he always been so detail-oriented?”
“Always,” Carver confirmed. “It’s part of what makes him a good steward.”