Page 165 of Esperance

She did.

Everything she said only made Carver more furious with Tam. He touched Amryn’s bruised cheek, silently swearing that if he ever got his hands on Tam, he would strangle her.

When Amryn finished, there was a brief silence, and Carver knew he wasn’t the only one sorting through everything that had happened last night.

“When I was healing everyone,” Amryn said, “I felt Samuel with Sadia.”

“He made it to the ballroom and warned me about Tam’s trap.”

“He was being forced to help Tam. He joined the Rising before coming here, but . . . he fell in love with Sadia. He didn’t want to help the rebels anymore, but Tam forced him by threatening Sadia’s life.”

Carver felt a flash of sympathy for Samuel. “Jayveh hasn’t ordered his arrest yet, but he’s under guard.”

Amryn’s lips pursed. “I’ll speak for him.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Samuel knew Amryn had been a rebel, too—not that he could do anything to hurt her. Not when she’d been pardoned by Argent.

Determination lived in her gaze. “I’ll still speak for him. He was filled with regret, Carver. He was trapped. He didn’t have anywhere to turn—not without risking Sadia’s life.”

There was a soft knock.

Amryn’s eyes flicked to the closed door “It’s Ahmi,” she whispered.

He blinked. What would that be like? To know a person was there without even seeing them, onlyfeelingthem?

“I have so many questions,” he muttered, even as he pushed off the bed and strode to the door.

Ahmi’s relief was obvious when she saw Amryn had finally woken. The maid had a tray of fruit and some light foods, which Amryn started eating right away. Then Ahmi turned to him. “The high cleric and Chancellor Trevill are requesting your presence in the high cleric’s office. I can sit with Amryn until you return.”

He hesitated; even though Amryn was awake now, he didn’t want to leave her.

Amryn looked up, her expression softening. “I’ll be fine. Go.”

The bruises that covered her cheek made her seem all the more vulnerable, but she was safe. Even if Carver still felt the panic and fear of almost losing her . . . she was alive. He hadn’t lost her.

He crossed back to the bed and leaned down, dropping a soft kiss to her brow. “We’re not done discussing things,” he said, his voice low.

He still had far too many questions; about her, about the strange amulet that was shoved in his pocket . . .

There was so much he didn’t understand.

He’d grown up on horrific tales of empaths who could read minds and kill with a thought. He knew they were exaggerations—they had to be—but he’d never given much thought to empaths as an adult. By then, the church had killed most of them. Empaths were merely ghosts that haunted the empire’s past, and the nightmares of children.

Amryn didn’t fit any of those stories. She wasn’t evil, or a killer. Nothing like the empaths who’d killed Argent’s parents and grandmother.

Carver had a lot to process, but as he left her, he knew there was one thing he didn’t have to doubt: Amryn was good. She was ahealer. And he was going to protect her.

Trevill and Zacharias were locked in a heated debate when Carver walked into the high cleric’s office.

Zacharias stood behind his wide desk, and a vein bulged in his forehead.

Trevill was planted on the other side of the desk, his arms crossed and face locked into a fierce expression.

The chancellor cut a look to Carver as he closed the door. “General Vincetti. I’m glad you’re here.” The man had deliberately used his title, making it clear he wanted Carver’s help in circumventing the high cleric’s authority—something Argent had done whenever the situation warranted.

Argent’s absence was a blade in Carver’s gut, but it cut deeper right now.

Zacharias straightened. “Yes,” he said quickly. “I’m afraid the chancellor isn’t interested in listening to reason, so I could use your voice.”

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