Chapter 63
Amryn
Jayveh sat on the imperial throne, staring out at the throne room. The air in the cavernous space hung heavily. Chancellors, generals, and clerics were all gathered, along with the Chosen and the visiting royals. It was the middle of the night, but no one was thinking of sleep.
The garden had been left behind. The emperor’s top advisors and some of the most influential people in the empire were gathered in the throne room, everyone looking to Jayveh.
The Xerran princess—now the empress of Craethen, for all intents and purposes—viewed the room. Her spine was straight, her expression fierce. Amryn knew her grief was vast, but her eyes were dry as she said, “The emperor’s death is a terrible blow for us all. But it is not the end of Craethen.”
Amryn stood near the front of the room, holding Carver’s hand.
Rix and Torin stood on one side of her, and Carver and his father stood on the other.
While she did not mourn the emperor’s passing, Amryn felt grief.
Carver’s, Cregon’s, Jayveh’s, and a room full of others who mourned his death.
And perhaps she felt a stirring of sorrow for a life lost so violently, especially when she might have been able to save it.
If the emperor had not made such a thing impossible.
But even though the emperor might not have been the complete monster Amryn had spent her life fearing, she could not weep for him.
The man had turned the world against empaths, giving the church and knights full authority to hunt and kill them.
He had obliterated her kingdom, taking it for his own.
He was responsible for so much death—including members of her own family.
No, she would not mourn Emperor Lorcan Vayne. But she would mourn with Carver, who had lost a man he’d loved, respected, and served. And she would cry with Jayveh, who was now without her most ardent protector.
“The Amins will be interrogated, tried, and found guilty,” Jayveh continued, her tone both grim and firm. “They will be executed for assassinating the emperor.”
“Where is Argent?” a chancellor Amryn didn’t know the name of asked. “Shouldn’t he be here, ill or not?”
Murmurs broke out.
Jayveh’s voice cut through them as she declared, “Prince Argent is not here.”
Gasps and whispers rippled through the throne room. Those who didn’t know the truth wore expressions of uncertainty. Those who did know looked to Jayveh, their concern obvious, though no one spoke against her.
Amryn’s stomach knotted, even though she knew this was the only option.
No one would believe Argent was so ill he couldn’t be seen now that the emperor had been killed.
If Jayveh wanted the support of the court, she needed to be honest. However, Cregon and Hector had both cautioned partial truth, and that is what Jayveh went with now.
“Argent was stolen from Esperance by the Rising.” Her chin lifted a fraction, the motion utterly imperial as she faced the gathered crowd.
“Tonight, we captured one of their spies. We will learn where Argent is, and he will be recovered.” She looked to Cregon, though her words were for the room.
“I have already asked High General Vincetti to personally oversee this most important task of bringing Argent home.”
Cregon pressed a fist over his heart as he inclined his head. “It will be done, Your Eminence.”
Jayveh blinked at the unexpected title, but she recovered quickly. “Thank you.” To the room, she said, “Until Argent returns, I will rule in his stead.”
The chancellor who had first addressed Jayveh spoke again. “There is no reason for you to take on this extra burden. You have your health to consider, as well as your child’s. The risk to both of you is already great—”
“My child has been in danger since his conception,” Jayveh overrode him. “His blood makes him a target, whether I sit on the throne or not.”
“But there are protocols in place,” the man said. “The chancellors stand ready to manage the affairs of the empire, which would leave you free to care for yourself and your unborn child.”
“No.” High Cleric Lisbeth stepped forward. Her eyes were rimmed red, though her tears had ceased. “Many of us were a witness to the emperor’s final words. His last command was for Imperial Princess Jayveh to take the throne.” Her jaw locked. “The church, at least, will uphold his dying wish.”
“As will the knights,” Rhone said. His dark tone was threat enough, but his hand also rested on his sheathed sword.
Some of the chancellors bristled. The man who had been speaking to Jayveh immediately lifted his hands, “You misunderstand me, High Cleric. I’m sure I speak for all the chancellors when I say we will of course stand by the emperor’s last order.
I simply meant we might be able to help ease the burden of ruling. ”
Lisbeth’s eyes narrowed, but Chancellor Kulver stepped forward, his eyes on Jayveh. “If I might ask, Your Eminence—what happens if Prince Argent cannot be recovered?”
Jayveh’s expression tightened. “In that event, I will hold the throne until my child is of an age to take it.”
Several of the chancellors tensed, but Kulver immediately bowed his head. “I will serve you faithfully, Your Eminence. Just as the emperor willed.”
Jayveh accepted the words as if they were her due, though Amryn knew turmoil and doubt hummed inside her.
She surveyed the gathered crowd. “You are here in this room because you are the ones the emperor trusted most highly. You hold positions of power throughout the empire. You are the ones the entire empire looks to for guidance and assurance.”
Her expression hardened, becoming so harsh Amryn barely recognized her friend.
“It is in deference to the trust the emperor placed in you that I warn each of you now: betrayal in any form will not be tolerated. Dissent in word or deed will not be overlooked. If you use this time of mourning to make any petty bid for power, I assure you, you will lose every shred of power you ever possessed. If you do anything to weaken this empire, you will not live to regret it.” Her eyes narrowed coldly.
“And if you become an enemy to me or Argent, or pose any threat to our child, I will show you no mercy.”
“Threatening them was a strategic move,” Cregon murmured as Jayveh dismissed most everyone from the throne room. “She needed to show her strength from the very beginning, especially to the emperor’s inner circle. They need to fear her so they won’t dare undermine her—or take advantage of her.”
“I hate this for her,” Carver said, just as quietly. “This isn’t what Argent would have wanted.”
The danger to Jayveh had just increased. Again.
When the doors closed, the only ones who remained were Cregon, Carver, Amryn, Hector, and Lisbeth.
Still seated on the large throne, Jayveh turned to the high cleric. “I would like to turn over all funeral rites to your oversight, Lisbeth.”
The woman bowed, her bald head glinting in the lantern light. “It is only with the steadying hands of the All-Seeing Divinities that I can accept such a heartbreaking honor.”
“Thank you,” Jayveh said. “You can work with Hector to make all the arrangements.” She hesitated, then said, “Could you also help with the vigil? I know that’s usually handled by family, but I’ll be busy with different matters in the coming days, and I don’t want his body to be left alone, or for him to miss any of the prayers. ”
“Of course,” Lisbeth said, her voice wavering. “It would be my privilege to remain at his side until his burial.”
“Thank you,” Jayveh said. “I will join you whenever I can.”
Lisbeth bowed, then left to begin her duties.
As soon as the door shut, Jayveh blinked. Tears shined in her eyes, and she began to tremble. She gripped the arms of the throne, her knuckles white. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice finally breaking. “I know you were going to leave for Westmont after the ball . . .”
The pain in Jayveh drew Amryn forward. Her friend rose to meet her and their arms locked around each other in a desperate hold.
“We’re not leaving, Jayveh,” Amryn promised. It might have been a reckless decision, but it was the only one to make. They couldn’t leave Jayveh. Not now.
She could feel Carver’s tension, but all he said was, “You won’t face any of this alone, Jayveh.”
Slowly, the princess—empress—pulled back. She swiped the tears from her cheeks. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“You handled everything perfectly,” Cregon assured her.
“I’m terrified,” she admitted. “I just tried to imagine any of the people in this room turning against me, or trying to hurt my baby . . .”
“Then keep doing that,” Cregon said. His voice hardened, matching his resolve. “But no one will hurt you or your child, Jayveh. We won’t let them.”
Her lips pursed, but she gave Carver’s father a grateful nod.
“I recorded your words,” Hector said. “And I’ll make sure no one in this court forgets them.”
“Thank you. All of you.” Jayveh swallowed.
She was overwhelmed, grieving, and exhausted.
But she still turned to Carver. “I need you to interrogate Tam tonight.” The princess’s emotions were chaotic, but Amryn felt her sudden dread—and her painful, desperate hope.
“I need answers,” she said. “Come to me the moment you learn something, no matter the hour.”
“I will,” Carver said, his voice low and even.
Something stirred in him that Amryn couldn’t quite identify. But it made his blue eyes grow colder, and it lifted the fine hairs on the back of her neck.