Chapter 57 #2
The first notes of a new song began as Carver shifted in front of her. He slid a gloved hand around her waist, pulling her closer as he guided her into position. Her heart beat a little faster as he leaned down, his warm breath teasing her ear. “I hope it’s all right that I interrupted.”
“Always,” she whispered.
She caught the flash of his dimple before he began to lead her through the sweeping steps of the waltz, his motions effortless.
She’d danced with him before, in Esperance at the Feast of Remembrance.
She’d been amazed by his skill then, and she was just as amazed now.
He moved with far greater ease than she did, but his gentle guidance as he led her through the steps made her feel eminently graceful.
It felt like a perfect, suspended moment.
Stars glittered above them, jasmine scented the air around them, and because of the bloodstone in her pocket, Amryn was able to mostly ignore the crowd surrounding them.
Being in Carver’s arms was bliss, and she got a thrill every time the bracelet on her wrist caught the light from one of the garden’s many torches.
Her beautiful skirt swirled around her legs as he spun her, the gold accents glittering in the firelight.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Ivan spinning Elowen in an elegant circle. The two made a striking pair—her, with her beauty and vivaciousness, and him, with his stoic but handsome features. He said something to Elowen, and she laughed.
Carver made a disgruntled sound in his throat.
Amryn patted his bicep, where her palm rested as they danced. “Ivan is a good man.”
Muscles bunched under her hand. “Not good enough for my sister.”
“Would any man be good enough for her?”
His response was caught between a grunt and a huff.
Amryn’s lips twitched. “You can threaten him a little, if that will make you feel better.”
Carver adopted an affronted look. “You don’t think I could scare him away?”
“No,” she said honestly. When he scowled, she added, “You’re very fearsome, but Ivan’s determined. As is your sister.”
He muttered a curse.
Amryn’s lips twitched. They continued to dance, and though Amryn didn’t want to be aware of the passage of time, she knew that soon they would need to part ways.
The rising nerves in Carver made it clear his thoughts followed her own.
“Everything will be fine,” she murmured. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I’m always going to worry about you,” he said softly. “Protecting you will always be my first instinct.” His eyes gentled as he searched hers. “You’re holding my heart in your hands, sweetheart.”
Warmth spread through her chest.
Carver eased her closer, and Amryn went willingly, letting her cheek rest above his heart. Their steps slowed, and the rest of the world melted away.
Until the song ended.
Applause filled the space the music had left behind, a jarring end to their private moment.
Carver drew back, reluctance threading through him. He brushed a kiss against her temple. “Be safe,” he whispered.
“You, too.”
Ivan walked Elowen over to them, and Carver met the prince’s stare. “Don’t leave her side.”
“She will be safe with me,” Ivan assured him.
Carver tightened his grip on Amryn’s hand, then, with obvious difficulty, he slowly released her. Her heart thudded as she watched him make his way around the other dancers, headed for the treasury.
A half hour later, it was Amryn’s turn to leave the garden behind.
Her stomach twisted nervously, but she tried to breathe past her anxieties.
Their plan was good. She would be with Carver again soon.
And what she did now would ensure Rix and Torin’s safety.
While Bram might never forgive her, at least this way he wouldn’t lose his life—or be able to hurt anyone.
If he surrendered without a fight, she might even be able to eventually secure his freedom.
Amryn pulled in a slow, bracing breath. The low hum of the bloodstone offered comfort, but when she slipped her hand into her pocket, she chose instead to touch her mother’s prayer coin.
She could still feel the imprint of it on her fingertips as she and Ivan met Samuel on the edge of the garden.
The Prince of Wendahl was tense, but she felt the determination throbbing inside him.
Any misgivings he’d had about betraying the Rising had died after the attack at Market Square.
He hadn’t been there, but he’d been sickened by the cruel and senseless violence.
With only one last look toward Sadia—who was under the watchful eye of Hugo, one of Carver’s trusted men—Samuel followed Amryn and Ivan out of the garden.
They entered the palace through a side door and moved through a quiet corridor.
The palace seemed strangely vacant, since most everyone was out in the garden.
It was almost eerie, walking along the deserted hallways.
The palace was so vast, there were still areas she hadn’t explored, but Bram had made sure they’d memorized this path.
Amryn’s pulse thrummed too quickly as they reached a closed door with a faint glow emanating along the floor.
According to Bram, the small drawing room was generally forgotten by the nobles and subsequently neglected by the palace staff.
That, combined with the fact it was located near the treasury, made it ideal for the Rising’s meeting place tonight.
A single palace guard stood outside. Amryn assumed he was a rebel, even before he greeted them with a nod and wordlessly opened the door for them.
Amryn exchanged a last look with Samuel and Ivan. She could feel their unease. Samuel’s was more anxious, while Ivan’s felt hardened. She forced herself to take a steadying breath before walking into the room.
The space was dimly lit, shadows painting the walls and corners.
Long settees and cushioned armchairs were spaced around the room, but none were being used.
The air was thick with a restless sort of anticipation.
Bram stood in the center of the room, addressing the six men with him.
All of them wore the black uniform of the palace guard.
Bram glanced up at their approach, and relief rushed through him. “Good, you’re here.”
The gathered rebels eyed the Chosen with open surprise. A few murmured their shock.
“As you can see,” Bram said to them, “There are more that stand with us than you realize. That is why the Rising will not fail.”
Amryn moved to stand near the other rebels, with Samuel and Ivan positioning themselves on either side of her. She felt better having them close, especially as the gathered rebels continued to eye them.
Bram faced the Chosen. “There has been a change in plans tonight.”
Samuel and Ivan both stiffened.
“Oh?” Amryn asked, worry swelling.
“We’ve been given a secondary task,” Bram explained. “I’ve been informed there is a high-ranking rebel prisoner in the dungeon—King Jamir of Xerra. We’ve been ordered to free him.”
Amryn stared. They’d known Jayveh’s uncle was a rebel, but this proved he was more valuable to the Rising than he’d led them to believe.
“How are we supposed to do that?” Ivan asked, his voice hard. “There aren’t enough of us to overpower the guards in the prison.”
“True,” Bram said. “But that won’t be necessary.
” A stirring of reluctance was the only warning Amryn got before he met her eyes.
“You are Princess Jayveh’s close friend.
You can tell the guards you have a message from the princess that she ordered you to communicate directly to her uncle.
They’ll take you—and your bodyguards, of course—right to King Jamir’s cell. ”
Amryn felt Ivan’s sharp rise of apprehension. It matched her own. “Surely they won’t let me just walk in there,” she said. “They’ll have questions.”
“Everyone knows the princess trusts you implicitly.” Bram’s jaw tightened.
“And General Vincetti is your husband. Don’t let the guards refuse you.
” He glanced at the others. “While Amryn leads the way into the prison, I will lead the mission to steal the Dagger of Hafsin. Ivan and Samuel, you’ll be responsible for sedating the guards and guiding us to—”
“No,” Ivan stated.
Bram’s eyebrows pulled together. “You’re refusing to help?”
“I am refusing to leave Amryn’s side,” Ivan corrected. “Wherever she goes, I go. Samuel can lead you to the dagger.”
Bram shook his head. “There are multiple guards at the treasury door, which means we need both you and Samuel to help us sedate them as planned.”
Ivan held his stare, showing no sign of backing down.
Samuel cleared his throat. “I’m sure I can—”
“No, it’s fine,” Amryn cut in. Her palms dampened with sweat at the thought of separating from Ivan and Samuel, but they couldn’t afford to make Bram suspicious.
She met Ivan’s sharp gaze. “You’re needed more in the treasury,” she said.
But she hoped her eyes would communicate more.
You need to get there as fast as possible and tell Carver what’s happening. Then you can all come get me—and Jamir.
Ivan’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t happy, but he didn’t argue further.
Bram selected three rebels to go to the prison with Amryn, posing as her bodyguards.
Then he spoke directly to her. “Once you get the others to Jamir’s cell, your part in his rescue will be done.
It’s imperative we keep your involvement with the Rising from becoming known.
You’ll be left in Jamir’s cell, wrists tied, while the others get the Xerran king out.
When you’re discovered, you’ll tell everyone the men with you were rebels and you were coerced to help them reach Jamir. ”
It was startlingly close to the truth.
Bram crossed his arms over his chest. “I know this means splitting our forces, but I’ve assured my superior that won’t be an issue.”
“Where is your superior?” Samuel asked. “Wasn’t he supposed to be here to get the dagger?”