Chapter 62 #2
Returning to the bright bonfires and glittering opulence of the emperor’s ball was jarring.
The music and laughter sounded harsh after everything.
Carver’s fingers twined with Amryn’s, keeping them connected as they made their way to the dais that had been set up for the emperor and Jayveh. They were still receiving well-wishers.
Carver knew he and Amryn were drawing a few looks. The dark color of his uniform hid the streak of blood on his side, but both of them were streaked with dirt they hadn’t been able to easily brush off. He hardly cared. His thoughts whirled.
Amryn had told him everything that had happened as they made their way back to the gardens.
He couldn’t be sorry Jamir was dead. Even if he might have had valuable information about the Rising—and the elusive Rowan—he was first and foremost a man who had abused his niece and nephews for years.
The traitor deserved his fate. And while he was surprised by Janson’s defection, he was much more worried about what the Rising’s leader wanted with Amryn.
And the complications Tam would surely create.
Saints, he understood why Amryn had wanted to capture Tam, but fear coated every breath as Carver thought about the danger that woman posed to his wife. Bloodstone or not, an accusation could prove deadly.
Determination filled him. He would not allow that to happen.
The emperor and Jayveh stood at the top of a raised dais, guards lining the space and keeping a close eye on those who came forward to congratulate the emperor—and Jayveh—on the new heir she carried.
They climbed the steps of the dais, bypassing the line of nobles. The guards gave him deferential nods, which he returned a little more curtly. The emperor and Jayveh were seated a few paces apart, allowing the court’s elite to linger with each of them for a few moments of conversation.
Carver was unsurprised to see High Cleric Lisbeth still hovering near the emperor’s side.
His father stood behind the emperor’s chair, obviously not inclined to wander far when the Rising was active in the palace.
The emperor hadn’t been a target tonight, but Cregon Vincetti was not a man to take chances.
He spotted Carver and Amryn. After a cursory glance that must have assured him they were unscathed, he cracked a small and relieved smile. When he saw them move toward Jayveh, Cregon bent to whisper in the emperor’s ear.
Jayveh noticed their approach and politely excused herself from the conversation she was having with a noblewoman. Hector moved in to smooth her exit, freeing Jayveh to step away. She met Carver and Amryn at the back of the dais, and Cregon joined them almost immediately.
They kept their report short, their quiet words insulated between them due to the music and conversation that filled the garden. While it was clear Cregon had plenty of questions for Carver, he was willing to ask them later.
Jayveh was shocked to learn of her uncle’s death, but her focus was—understandably—on Tam. “I want to see her,” she said. “Now.”
“She was dosed with a sleeping drug,” Carver said. “She’ll be unconscious for a while longer.”
Steel entered Jayveh’s eyes. “I need to know the moment she’s awake.”
“I’d like to handle her questioning alone,” Carver said. When Jayveh would have protested, he added, “She’s afraid of me. I can use that to learn whatever she knows.”
When the princess still hesitated, Amryn said, “If you’re there, she’s only going to taunt you. Let Carver get the truth from her.”
Cregon placed a hand on Jayveh’s arm. “Your time to confront her can come later, Princess.”
Jayveh’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, but she finally agreed. She looked at Carver. “I want her questioned the moment she wakes.”
He merely nodded.
Hector approached. “Your Highness, if you’re able to return to your duties . . .”
Jayveh glanced back to the line, easily spotting the crowd that had grown during her short break. Near the front of the line were Rix and Torin. Both men were eyeing them, expressions inscrutable but postures stiff.
“I’ll be right there,” Jayveh told the emperor’s steward.
Hector bowed his head and retreated.
Jayveh looked to Amryn. “That’s your uncle with King Torin, isn’t it? I’d love a personal introduction.”
Carver opened his mouth, but Amryn spoke first. “Of course.” She shot him a warning glance before the two women walked back toward the line.
Cregon chuckled. “Easier to give in gracefully, son.”
Even though he knew his father was right, he’d still prefer to get Amryn out of this crowded garden. Make sure she was truly all right. Watching her greet Rix, then Torin, he realized just how close he’d come to losing her tonight. His hands rolled to fists.
“She’s safe,” Cregon murmured. His father had read his thoughts so easily, Carver had to wonder what his face looked like.
Jayveh smiled graciously as Torin and Rix bowed, and then she chatted easily with them. Something she said made Torin chuckle.
“She will make a remarkable Princess of Craethen,” Cregon said softly.
Carver agreed. But his eyes remained on Amryn. Even with dirt on her dress and her curls a little wilted, she was beautiful. When she embraced her uncle, Rix’s gaze landed on Carver.
Even with the distance between them, Carver had no trouble seeing the animosity aimed at him.
Cregon set a hand on his shoulder. “He’ll come around.”
Carver snorted. “Doubtful.”
His father flexed his grip. “If it helps, your mother’s father once threatened to eviscerate me.”
“What?” Of his two grandfathers—a retired general and a spice merchant—a violent threat from the latter was the last thing Carver had expected.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Cregon said, sounding mildly offended. “The man can be quite terrifying.”
“Grandfather Lorenzo is the most soft-spoken man I know.”
His father grunted. “A man’s a lot less genial when he’s giving away his daughter. Trust me. I told Leo I’d feed his body to the sharks if he ever hurt your sister.”
Carver’s eyes widened. “But you’ve always loved Leo.”
“Yes,” he affirmed. “Can you imagine what I would have threatened if I hated him?” He cracked a smile.
“My point is, Rix is protective of Amryn because he loves her. Give him some grace. The circumstances of your marriage have certainly been unique, and he may need more time to adjust. Try to imagine how you would handle watching your daughter get married to a stranger.”
Carver stiffened. Blazing Saints . . . And if his daughter was an empath? He nearly choked. “She is never getting married.”
Cregon patted his shoulder, an amused sort of sympathy glowing in his eyes. “I once said the same thing, Carve. Good luck.” With that, his father returned to stand behind the emperor’s chair.
Emotions rioting, Carver made his way over to Amryn. Thankfully, Rix and Torin had moved on, so Carver didn’t have to engage with them.
Jayveh was just greeting Cora’s father when he reached Amryn’s side. He didn’t have to be an empath to see the grief that overshadowed Lord Amin. Heaviness dragged at the middle-aged man, the lines on his face deep.
He glanced at Carver’s approach, but his focus remained on Jayveh. “My wife grows weary, but we both wanted to offer our congratulations on your news before we leave for the night.”
Carver spotted the man’s wife a few paces away, standing before the emperor. The Amins were both dressed immaculately, with all the finery of their peers, but it was easy enough to spot the slump in their shoulders and the hollowness in their eyes.
“Thank you,” Jayveh said. Her face softened along with her voice as she added, “I know these last months have been impossibly difficult for you and your wife. I’m so sorry for your losses.”
Lord Amin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I appreciate that, Your Highness.”
Compassion filled her expression as Jayveh reached out, laying a hand on the man’s arm. “I know the emperor has loved having you here as his treasured guests, but he would understand if you’d prefer to return home.”
Sudden moisture swam in Lord Amin’s eyes. “Perhaps it’s time,” he said hoarsely.
Jayveh squeezed his arm. “If you ever need anything, you—”
Lord Amin moved blindingly fast. He grabbed her wrist with one hand, his other gripping a small blade. He thrust it toward her slightly rounded abdomen.
Carver slammed into him, tackling Lord Amin to the hard ground. Screams of alarm ripped the air as the knife bounced and skittered away.
“No!” Lord Amin snarled, tears leaking from his eyes as he thrashed against Carver’s hold. “No!” He fought like a man possessed, and Carver grunted as every muscle in his body strained to hold the older man down.
Two guards rushed forward to help Carver just as another shriek—raw, guttural, and furious—split the night.
His head snapped up. It was either luck or a curse that he saw straight through the crowd and right to the emperor, who was staring at the woman standing before him in horrific disbelief.
Cora’s mother was flushed, the fingers of one hand digging into the emperor’s arm. Her other gripped the knife that was now buried in his chest.
Carver knew as long as he lived, he would never forget that sight. The emperor’s gaping expression frozen in the face of Sofina Amin’s crazed rage. “Die!” she screeched, yanking the blade free before driving it forward again.
It didn’t land. The emperor’s guards—who had been distracted by Lord Amin’s attack on Jayveh for a single, disastrous moment—swarmed Lady Amin.
Cregon shouted for a protective perimeter as he leaped around the emperor’s chair.
He caught the sagging man, his yells for a physician lost in the screams of the crowd.
Pandemonium burst. Even if people hadn’t seen what happened, they were fleeing the garden. Panic thinned the air.