Page 13 of Esperance

She could feel his fear, and it melded with her own.

When Torin had received the emperor’s letter that demanded the most noteworthy woman from his court be sent to Esperance as a bride, they all knew Amryn was the only choice. She had grown up in the castle, and she was Rix’s niece—and he was Torin’s chief advisor, and the king’s best friend since childhood. Picking anyone else in Ferradin could be seen as non-compliance to the emperor, if Lorcan Vayne knew anything of their court.

And since he only allowed the kings and queens to rule their kingdoms ashesaw fit, Lorcan Vayne knew everything about every court in the empire.

Despair, fear, anxiety—Amryn had felt all that and more. But she had never once thought of telling Torin no. The man was her uncle’s best friend. To her, he had been another uncle and guardian. These two men had raised her when she had no one else. She would do anything for them.

When another letter had followed a couple of weeks later, offering an invitation to join the Rising . . . Amryn had easily agreed to that as well. This was an unprecedented chance to strike back at the empire that had stolen so much from so many. From her.

Rix worried about her being asked to do something violent, and in truth, Amryn had worried about that, too. But Torin had reasoned that the risks would be minimal. “She won’t be alone,” he’d said to Rix. Then to her: “You will have allies, even if they aren’t known to you. And if Ferradin can play a part in tearing down the Craethen Empire . . .”

Rix had remained worried, even after she agreed. Amryn knew his complicated mix of emotions stemmed from the fact that Torin didn’t know the full risk Amryn was taking.

Torin had helped raise her, but he didn’t know she was an empath. That’s how dangerous her secret was. When she’d first come to live with Rix all those years ago, he’d told her in soft whispers that she must never tellanyone. Not even Torin. The risk of betrayal was far too great—whether intentional or not.

They both knew only too well that betrayal could come from the most trustworthy of places.

So Torin didn’t know that when he asked her to join the Rising and come to Esperance, she would be surrounded by clerics who would kill her in a heartbeat if they discovered she was an empath.

The fear she felt now, standing in this room with her uncle, was not all her own.

Knowing Rix needed reassurance, Amryn forced a small smile. “You’ve taught me well. I’ll be fine.”

Her uncle did not look convinced. “If your mother were still here . . . She would never forgive me for this.”

“I agreed to do this,” she reminded him gently. “It’s a way to get justice for her. For all of us.”

He nodded once, but his eyes remained tortured.

There was a light rap on the door, and Rix cleared his throat before calling, “Enter.”

It was Rix’s bodyguard, Bram. He was a burly man with graying temples, and he had been Rix’s personal guard for years. “My lord, the horses are ready. We must leave now if we wish to reach the village by nightfall.”

“I’ll be down in a moment,” Rix said.

Bram bobbed his head, shot Amryn a gentle, if slightly forced, smile, then retreated back into the corridor. Beyond him, Amryn could see a female cleric. The woman wore the traditional brown robes and her head was shaved. Amryn had never understood why clerics—both male and female—shaved their heads. It could make it hard to discern the gender of a cleric, but the woman had spoken to her earlier. She was waiting for Amryn to finish her goodbyes so she could escort Amryn to the rooms she would share with Carver.

Her stomach pitched at the thought.

In all of her preparations, she’d tried not to dwell on her inevitable wedding night, but that was like walking the edge of a cliff and trying to convince herself the drop didn’t exist.

The last time she had seen Carver, he’d been splattered with blood. She didn’t know what to expect from the emperor’s favored general tonight, but anyone known asthe Butcherwouldn’t be kind or gentle. Oh, he’d been congenial enough at the wedding feast. But as soon as the attack came, he’d been brutally efficient. She wasn’t sure which version of Carver to expect tonight, but once they were alone, his true colors would certainly emerge.

Rix must have caught her sudden turmoil, because concern pulled at his features. “Are you still feeling sick?”

She knew he was asking about the fight earlier; the violence had been overwhelming, and the effects had lingered long after she’d left the banquet hall. But that wasn’t what caused her nausea now.

Before leaving Ferradin, Rix had—blushingly—told her what to expect on her wedding night. It had been uncomfortable for both of them, and she’d hurried to assure him that her maids had shared some things as well. If the situation hadn’t been so terrifying, Rix’s flood of relief that the excruciating conversation could end might have been amusing.

She smiled a little now. “I’m fine. Truly.”

Rix didn’t look like he fully believed her. He wasn’t an empath—even though the ability ran through families, it was unpredictable. No, Rix just knew her well.

He pulled her into a last, hard embrace. “You are strong, and so incredibly brave,” he whispered. “I’m in awe of you.”

Emotion heated her veins, and her throat tightened. “This isn’t goodbye.”

“I know.” He pulled back, and Amryn’s heart hammered as she felt the waves of his rioting emotions crashing into her own. His focus was absolute as he met her gaze. “I love you.”

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