When their killer had crouched in front of her, covered in blood, he’d smiled. There was something horribly wrong about that smile. “You’re safe now,” he whispered. “See? Look at them.”
She didn’t want to look. But her eyes wouldn’t close. Everything about that night was burned into her mind. The horrific sounds; the screaming, tearing, stabbing—and then nothing but the slow drip of blood hitting the wooden floor. The feel of blood on her skin, in her hair. The sight of a hand lying close to her, long fingers curled in remembered pain, that horrible bone ring streaked with blood. The rest of the man’s body was gone—strewn about the room. And the smells . . .
Tiras touched her cheek, the blood on both of them mingling. “They can’t hurt you now,” he said, not even breathing hard. “They’re nothing now, Ryn. I made them nothing.”
She couldn’t stop shaking.
She’d learned that night that monsters were everywhere. Even in the beloved face staring back at her.
“Was it your father?”
Carver’s question ripped her from her memories. “What?” she asked, the word sounding breathless.
“Did your father save you?”
A chill skated over her skin. “No.”
Pity pricked the air between them. “Was he already gone, then?”
Her stomach churned. “Yes.”
Ferrin Lukis hadn’t died, like Carver assumed. No, he’d betrayed his family for a purse of gold, and he’d run away. He knew the Order would come, and he knew exactly what the knights would do. In the end, Ferrin hadn’t cared about his family. The father Amryn had loved and cherished all her life . . . he’d thrown her away. He’d violated his wife’s trust and betrayed them all.
Carver could do the same.Woulddo the same, if he learned about her abilities.
It was a harsh reminder, but something she couldn’t afford to forget.
She drew back, tugging her hand free from his. Self-consciousness made her cheeks heat, and she was grateful he couldn’t see her well in the dark. “We all have nightmares,” she said quietly. “I guess I just wanted you to know that you aren’t alone.”
He didn’t say anything as she settled back on the ground, her back to him as she curled up in her wet clothes.
As her eyes closed once more, he said softly, “Thank you.”
Chapter 26
Carver
Amryn had wandered ahead of himas they picked their way down the muddy mountain path. She hadn’t said much this morning as they’d eaten a little food, and she’d only nodded when he suggested they forget about making it to the summit and instead return to the camp and regroup with everyone.
The silence between them wasn’t like yesterday. The air had shifted. It wasn’t peace, exactly. Maybe a truce.
He couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d shared last night. The scene she’d painted of her mother’s murder was horrific. The image of Amryn—a little girl with flaming red hair—screaming on the bed as she watched her mother die . . . it fractured something in his chest. He’d fought so hard to protect everyone in the empire. He’d gone to war to save his siblings from violence. He wanted to save every child.
He wanted to save her.
Impossible, because he couldn’t save her from what she’d already suffered. But maybe he could save her from the Rising, if she truly was a rebel.
Carver rubbed the back of his tensed neck. He eyed Amryn as she walked ahead, carefully stepping over some fallen fronds and branches—debris left from the storm.
No one had ever been with him in the aftermath of a nightmare. He’d kept his family at a careful distance since his return from Harvari, and while Ford sometimes talked about what they’d experienced, it was always brief and understated.
But Amryn hadn’t forced him to talk about it. She didn’t question the cold sweat that coated his shaking body, or even the fact that he’d tackled her. Instead, she’d shared her own nightmare. Just as she had calmed his insomnia in Esperance by sharing stories that had given him precious glimpses of her, last night she had comforted him with the knowledge that he wasn’t alone in suffering. Even though she had no idea what he’d suffered. Even though he’d hurt her with his Marriset scheme.
Even though he wasthe Butcher.
Amryn slowed her step.
He was ridiculously attuned to her, so he noticed at once. She peered into the thick jungle foliage on their left, her brow furrowed.