Chapter 47 #3
Amryn’s thoughts spun. So much about that time in her life was hazy.
She’d been so young. But in the weeks leading up to that horrific night, her parents had spent a lot of time behind closed doors.
Amryn couldn’t remember ever hearing the words they spoke—even when they’d shouted—but she remembered the emotions that had torn through her as they fought.
Twisting anger. Sharp blades of frustration.
Desperation. Fear. She remembered that whenever Rix visited, her mother always softened, but Ferrin only hardened.
And then, one morning, they’d told Amryn and Tiras that they were leaving the castle for a while. That’s all. Nothing more.
Rix had come to see them off. Amryn remembered watching her mother and Rix embrace.
They’d both cried as they said their farewells, not knowing it would be their final goodbye.
The sorrow they’d felt at parting had slammed into Amryn, and she’d cried, too.
Ferrin had lifted her into his arms, but he hadn’t cried.
He hadn’t even felt sadness. She couldn’t fully recall his emotions in that moment, but she was confident of that much.
They had traveled for endless days, maybe even weeks.
All Amryn remembered feeling during that time was confusion.
She didn’t understand why they’d left their home.
Her room, her toys, her favorite dresses.
They’d left Uncle Rix and Torin. They’d slept in tents or roadside inns.
Her parents still argued, just in whispers now.
Had they been on their way to Daersen? It seemed ludicrous. Even if her father had already decided to betray them, surely Aileen would never have agreed to go to such a dangerous place for empaths.
Maybe that’s what they’d been arguing about. Had her mother fought Ferrin at every turn? Finally refused to go any farther? Is that what had pushed him over the edge?
Amryn had always thought his betrayal was about greed.
That he’d wanted the coin the knights gave to informants.
But regret was a powerful motivator as well.
So was guilt. Combined, they might have been enough to make Ferrin turn on his family.
A family he very well might have resented, especially if he’d been raised by religious zealots.
If he’d dreamed of becoming one himself.
Amryn would always remember that horrible relief she’d felt from her father the last time she’d seen him. He’d been so relieved as he’d walked out that door.
As he’d left them behind.
Lisbeth’s story had given her some answers, but mostly Amryn just had more questions. Ferrin had defied everything he’d known to make sure his unborn child wasn’t abandoned and raised by the church. What had changed in the years that followed?
“I apologize,” Lisbeth said, her voice surprisingly soft. Her emotions had been reined in, for the most part, the shield of coldness once again in place. “I shouldn’t have burdened you with such things. No child needs to know the sins of their parents. Especially in such detail. Forgive me.”
“No, I wanted to know.” She watched as a hummingbird flitted above a flowering bush. The vibrant beauty of the garden was a jarring backdrop to the emotions roiling inside her.
The cleric sighed, the sound almost lost in the whisper of her robe as they continued to walk. “I think I selfishly hoped you might be able to give me some insight into Ferrin’s final days. But that was insensitive of me.”
Despite Lisbeth’s words, Amryn could sense the woman’s burn of curiosity. But it was the pain that wafted from her, old and deep, that made Amryn say, “I’m sorry. They didn’t tell me anything. I still don’t know why we left home.”
“Of course. You were so young.” Lisbeth glanced away, her profile firming. “Sometimes we hope for things that are not meant to be.”
They rounded another bend, and Amryn realized they’d traveled in a circle; they were back in the small courtyard with the reflective pool.
“I think I was wrong,” Lisbeth said suddenly. Her steps slowed as she met Amryn’s gaze. “I assumed because you looked like your mother, there was nothing of Ferrin in you. But after speaking with you, I see a semblance of my oldest friend.”
The woman might have viewed that as a compliment, but Amryn certainly didn’t.
Luckily, Lisbeth didn’t wait for a response. She touched Amryn’s arm, bringing them both to a halt.
It took a great deal of self-control not to pull away.
“I’m glad we could finally talk,” Lisbeth said.
“I wish I hadn’t waited so long to approach you.
I suppose I needed some time to gather my thoughts.
I loved your father like a brother, and I have mourned his fate all this time.
” Her lips pursed as she studied Amryn. “I know you are not a believer. But my faith is what sustains me, even in times of loss and heartache. There is much we can never understand, but the All-Seeing Divinities know the hearts and souls of everyone. In the end, their judgment is all that truly matters. Doing right in their eyes is more important than anything we might do for the regard of mortal men.” Her lips curved into a smile, though it looked wrong when her gaze was so intense.
“I hope one day you can know the comfort of such belief, Amryn.”
The fervent words, and the zeal with which Lisbeth had spoken them, lifted the hairs on the back of her neck.
Even when the cleric walked away, a chill remained with Amryn. As if with a single touch, some of the ice that lived in Lisbeth had lodged inside Amryn.
Amryn was still reeling as she made her way back to her suite, her two guards trailing behind her. While she didn’t exactly trust Lisbeth—or any cleric—she’d felt the truth in the woman’s story. Lisbeth’s emotions had been too raw to be faked. Besides, what reason did she have to lie?
What she’d shared had fundamentally shifted Amryn’s perception of her parents, and it had only opened the door to more questions.
She wanted to talk to Rix. Her uncle was coming to Zagrev, since the emperor had summoned him, but a trip of that distance took weeks.
There was no telling when he’d arrive. But she longed to talk to him about all of this.
Even if he didn’t know everything that had happened between Aileen and Ferrin, he had to know something.
Like why they’d left the castle, and where they were going.
Or why her parents might have been fighting.
Her mind jumped to Tiras. She wondered what he remembered. He was five years older than her, so his memories of that time would be more reliable. And of course, he knew where their father was now.
Her stomach twisted. She’d told Carver that she wanted to face her father. To demand answers. While that certainly hadn’t changed, she honestly didn’t know if she was brave enough to face the man who had thrown her away.
If only she could better recall that time in her life. If she could remember everything she’d seen and heard as a child, so she could examine them through the lens of adulthood . . .
Ysabel. The empath could see the past with a touch. Could her gift be targeted enough to isolate the memories of when Amryn’s family had fallen apart?
The idea was as thrilling as it was unnerving.
She trusted Ysabel enough to ask her about Von’s journal, but to open the door to her rawest wounds?
She didn’t know if she was ready for that, even if it could give her some insights into her own past. Regardless, she wouldn’t ask tonight.
She didn’t want to bombard Ysabel with questions, especially if her gift was like Amryn’s and it took a toll to use.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t realize Bram was one of the guards at her door until she was standing before him.
Her heart jolted. She hadn’t seen Bram in weeks, not since before the Rising’s attack on Market Square.
And even though she’d known he would make contact after the Chosen’s tour of the palace—that Keats would ensure Bram was placed on her room’s guard rotation, so he could easily reach her—she didn’t feel prepared to face him.
Bram might not have been at the square, or had anything to do with the attack, but he was a rebel.
Looking at him now, all she could see were the dead bodies around her.
The rebel who had tried to kill her. The rebel that had nearly killed Carver.
Bram’s familiar eyes were sharp as he took her in. She felt his swell of concern when he spied the yellowed bruises on her face, just as she sensed the tension knotting inside him. It only increased the pressure in her own chest.
Amryn murmured thanks to the two bodyguards who had escorted her as Bram moved to unlock the door.
Before she could step inside, Bram said, “Let me check the room for you, my lady.”
Amryn inclined her head, her spine stiff.
The other guard stayed to keep watch in the corridor while Bram and Amryn stepped into the room. The moment the door closed behind them, Bram took hold of her arm and tugged her to the far side of the room, his worry mounting with every step.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t reach you sooner. I know you were in Market Square during the Rising’s demonstration, and—”
“Demonstration?” she hissed, yanking her arm free. She was so upset, she was shaking. The bloodstone let out a low vibration, underscoring her anger. “That demonstration was a massacre.”
Bram had the decency to feel a flash of remorse. Uneasiness cut through him as well, along with a thread of regret. “I swear to you, I didn’t know what they were planning.”
“If you’d known, would you have tried to stop it?”
Bram’s lips pressed together, his silence alone a damning answer.
She was sickened.
It must have shown on her face, because Bram’s expression tightened. “I would have warned you. If I’d been told, I would have made sure you weren’t anywhere near that square.”
Her heart clenched. “How can you support an attack like that?”
Defensiveness rose as his eyes steeled. “The price of freedom is steep. We can’t be afraid to pay it, or we’ll always live in tyranny.”
“The attack in Market Square wasn’t fighting tyranny, Bram. Everyone in that square was innocent.”
“No,” he said firmly. “Most everyone in this city supports the emperor’s rule.”
“They weren’t soldiers!” she burst out, though she tried to keep her voice down. “They couldn’t fight back. They were regular people. Men, women, and children.”
“It’s unfortunate so many people had to lose their lives,” Bram said grimly.
“But I assure you, more innocent lives have been stolen by the emperor. And after such a public attack, the emperor can no longer ignore the Rising. What is the loss of a hundred lives when we can free thousands? Avenge thousands?”
She stared at him, horror swelling. For the first time, she could feel the raw edge of Bram’s conviction.
He truly believed the Rising had done something noble by killing those defenseless people.
“Rix wouldn’t condone this,” she whispered, almost desperately.
She needed Bram to see what she saw—that the Rising’s actions had been pure evil.
Bram’s expression hardened. “Perhaps you don’t know your uncle as well as you think.”
She wanted to protest, but if today had proven anything, it was that she didn’t know anything about anyone. Not her father. Not Bram. And probably not Rix or her mother.
Bram was watching her intently. “I’m sorry you were hurt, Lady Amryn. But you can’t forget what the Rising is trying to do. What we need your help to do.”
She looked away, hoping to gain control of her emotions. She’d nearly forgotten she had a role to play. That she was supposed to be a loyal rebel.
It wasn’t an act when she released a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, I just . . . It was terrifying to be there.”
Some of Bram’s defensiveness faded, replaced by compassion. “It’s all right. I can’t imagine the fear you must have experienced.” He hesitated, then glanced at the closed door. “I can’t stay much longer. I’m sorry this has to be brief, but—”
“It’s all right,” she interrupted. Frankly, she didn’t want to prolong this. “We found the Dagger of Hafsin.”
His eyes glinted. “You did?”
She nodded, her throat dry as she confirmed the dagger was in the treasury.
She told him everything Morelli and Keats had instructed her to say about the blade’s location and the treasury’s security—including the suggestion that the ideal time to steal it would be midway through the emperor’s ball.
Finally, she told him that she, Ivan, and Samuel wanted to help steal the dagger.
Bram instantly shook his head. “It’s not worth risking you all. If you were discovered—”
“The risk would be minimal,” Amryn interrupted.
“And it will be less dangerous for everyone if we help.” Her lips pressed into a line.
It was vital that she convince Bram. General Keats wanted the Chosen involved for very tactical reasons, but Amryn wanted to be there because she knew it would make the trap easier to spring, and that could save lives on both sides.
She took a breath, then laid down her rehearsed plan.
“As the Chosen, we can walk right up to the guards without alarming them. Ivan knows of a Sibeten drug we can easily administer to them. There would be no fight to subdue them, and they would have no memory of seeing us.”
Intrigue flickered in Bram, but she knew he wasn’t fully persuaded.
She hurried on. “We can also walk you right to the dagger, because we’ve been there before.
It will take us far less time, which means all of us will be safer—including your superior.
” Feeling a last bit of hesitancy inside him, she delivered the lie Samuel had suggested.
“We didn’t get to finish our missions in Esperance because of Tam. Let us do this. Let us help. Please.”
Bram released a slow breath, his shoulders lowering. “All right. I’ll propose this to my superior and let you know what he decides. But I think he’ll be grateful for your help.”
“Thank you, Bram,” she whispered.
As she watched her uncle’s bodyguard—a man she had known for most of her life—make his way toward the door, she felt a swirl of guilt for deceiving him.
But after witnessing his reaction to the attack on Market Square, she could no longer view Bram as harmless.
Truthfully, she’d known it from the moment he’d declared his desire to kill Carver.
Bram’s arrest was imminent. And while she could still hope his innocence would be discovered in a trial, she could not regret her decision to help imprison him.
When Bram reached the door, he twisted back to face her. “I know none of this has been easy. But every sacrifice will be worth it when we succeed. We’ll get the dagger, and the Wraith will kill the emperor. This will all be over soon.”
He had no idea how true his words were.