Page 51 of Esperance

“In th-there,” the maid pointed toward the sitting room, her hand shaking as much as her voice. “On the—floor. Opened the door, and—she—she’s—dead!”

His blood turned to ice.

Amryn.

Her name slammed into his mind without cause or warning. Fear blasted him, and he shoved around the maid, ignoring the shout of a guard for him to stay out of the room. He felt Ivan follow him.

The sitting room was a small space, clearly designed for more intimate gatherings. The settee on the left was the largest thing in the room, so that’s where his gaze cut.

Two small, slippered feet poked out from behind the settee, the hem of a blue skirt draped over them.

Carver’s lungs stopped working. He didn’t know what dress Amryn had worn today, but she had a blue dress.

Please, no. . .

His ears roared as he lurched forward, Ivan beside him.

When he rounded the settee, his eyes shot to the woman’s face.

Black hair—not red.

Dusky skin—not pale.

Lifeless brown eyes—not fathomless sea-green.

Relief cut through him, and he knew that was wrong. Because while this wasn’t Amryn, it was—

“Cora,” Ivan whispered, stunned. He was frozen for the space of a heartbeat, then he darted forward, only to drop to his knees beside his wife’s head. His long fingers grazed her neck, searching for a pulse.

Even without checking for life, Carver knew Cora was dead. The braided rug beneath her was drenched in blood and the hilt of a knife stuck out of her unmoving chest.

Clutched in her hand was a piece of paper.

Ivan spotted it as soon as Carver did. He pried it from Cora’s fingers before Carver could tell him not to disturb the scene.

He read the note over Ivan’s shoulder, and the words rippled a chill down his spine.

Retribution has come for you.

Chapter 15

Amryn

After burning the Rising’s noteusing one of the library’s lamps, Amryn returnedZerrif’s Voyageto the shelf and made her way to the library’s exit. She’d barely stepped into the hallway when rapid footsteps made her head turn.

Carver and Ahmi both strode toward her, and Amryn frowned as she felt Ahmi’s edge of fear. The maid’s pale face revealed nothing. Carver’s expression was set in stone, though Amryn felt a pulse of relief once he spotted her.

It was a relief she certainly didn’t feel. She felt caught. Trapped. And with every step closer, Carver’s presence felt more threatening.

He couldn’t know about the Rising’s note. There was no way. And yet, her heart thundered in her chest.

Carver drew to a stop before her. “Are you all right?”

Surprised by the intensity in his demand, she glanced at Ahmi. “I’m fine. What’s happened?”

Her maid visibly swallowed, but it was Carver who answered. “There’s been an attack. We’ve all been summoned by the high cleric.”

Her blood chilled. “An attack? Is everyone all right?”

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