Page 54 of Esperance

The high cleric made a pinched sound in his throat. “Emperor, I thought that I would—”

“Your responsibilities are already many,” Emperor Lorcan interrupted. “Chancellor Trevill has experience in leading investigations, and I know he can balance his duties with the council while searching out the killer. And, as he operates independently of the church, I believe that makes him the obvious choice. Zacharias, you will assist him as needed.”

The high cleric clearly didn’t like this, but he nodded.

Trevill bowed, accepting his role.

Emperor Lorcan looked over the rest of the room. “All of you will cooperate with Trevill’s investigation.”

It was their turn to nod.

There was a brief moment of silence, then Jayveh asked, “What about Cora? Her funeral . . . her family?”

The emperor’s face softened. His sadness was still there, but his affection for Jayveh was obvious as he looked at her. “Her funeral will be held as soon as the high cleric can make arrangements. When I leave Esperance, I will convey news of Cora’s death to her family. They deserve to know.”

Trevill’s voice was quiet. “What about the council? The Cael seat will be empty.”

The emperor sighed. “It would take months to get a replacement here, and at that point, I fear the newcomer would have missed too much. The Cael seat will be filled after the council’s time in Esperance is finished; Argent and Jayveh will be switching out at that time, so there will be multiple new faces.”

“Cora is not replaceable,” Ivan said. His voice was a little less combative, now that the emperor was among them, but it was still hard.

Compassion rippled from Emperor Lorcan. “Of course she is not. We all mourn her loss.”

Amryn stared at the emperor. Like at the wedding feast, she was struck by how worn he looked. How . . . common. He was just an old man. And yet, he was responsible for so much death. So much oppression. He was the reason empaths were hunted. He was the reason Ferradin was not an independent kingdom. He was the reason Torin’s family had been slaughtered, and he was the reason Amryn was here; alone, isolated, and afraid.

He had ordered Cora’s brother’s execution a week ago, and now he stood here, sorry that she was dead.

Amryn would never understand a man like that.

High Cleric Zacharias shifted his weight. “Your Eminence, I wonder if you and I might discuss your decision not to find a replacement for Cora. I understand your reasoning, insofar as the council is concerned, but the fact remains that these marriages are integral to the peace we’re trying to build here. If Ivan has no wife . . .”

“I understand the implications of my decision to not bring another bride from Cael to Esperance. I will contemplate how best to proceed after the year is over.” The emperor looked at Ivan. “I may yet arrange a marriage between Sibet and Cael, but for now, I ask you to focus on strengthening friendships with the other kingdoms of the empire.”

“I can assist in finding Cora’s killer,” Ivan said. “As a Wolf, I have all the necessary skills to—”

“I appreciate your desire to help,” the emperor said. “But your focus should be elsewhere. Leave the investigation to Chancellor Trevill.”

Ivan’s eyes were dark, but he did not argue.

The emperor looked back toward the dais, his voice a little deeper as he said, “Trevill, find the truth. Zacharias . . . keep the rest of them safe.”

The high cleric must have heard the undercurrent of threat, because he swallowed hard before he bowed his head. “It will be done, Your Eminence.”

Amryn’s eyes opened, her senses on alert as she came suddenly awake. It was the middle of the night, and she was surrounded by darkness, but something had woken her. Straining her ears, she soon heard Carver’s soft pacing in the other room.

She wasn’t sure how that muted sound could have woken her—then she felt the stab of his pain.

It had been two days since Cora’s death. Her funeral had been held this morning, and she’d been buried in Esperance’s cemetery. Through it all, Amryn had felt nearly every emotion from Carver, from anger to sadness. But this pain was different. Sharper. Deeper.

This wasn’t about Cora.

The fact that he was pacing—not to mention the overall mood she sensed from him—made it clear that his pain wasn’t physical. He didn’t need assistance. And yet, she found herself sitting up, pushing aside the blankets, and lifting her simple robe. She slipped her arms inside the wide sleeves and padded her way to the door.

Carver was in the sitting room, pacing near the balcony. The full moon gilded everything in silver, giving ample light for her to see that he was shirtless. Saints, why did she always catch him this way? It made her stomach flip and her cheeks warm, and it was a struggle to keep from staring. Especially when curiosity pulled her gaze toward his many and varied scars.

Carver’s attention snapped to her, and his movement ceased. “Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice low.

She shook her head. “I heard you pacing.”

---