Page 75 of Esperance

“Speaking is difficult for her,” Ahmi told him gently. “The poison burned her throat.”

Carver’s heart lurched. “She’ll recover?”

“Yes,” Ahmi said. “The physician said all the ladies will, in time. The damage seems to be temporary, nothing permanent.”

“Carver,” Amryn croaked, the sound ragged, thin, and pained.

He leaned over her, the knuckles of his free hand instinctively brushing her cheek. “I’m here,” he told her, trying to make his rough voice sound comforting. “You’re going to be fine.”

Amryn clenched his hand. “There was . . . a note.”

His brows slammed down. “What?”

“Under . . . the door.” She rasped a breath, flinching as she swallowed. “Couldn’t see. High Cleric . . . took it.”

“It’s all right,” he tried to soothe her. “I’ll find out what it says, but I’ll stay with you for now.”

She shook her head. “Go.”

He wanted to growl, but arguing with her when she was in pain seemed wrong. He looked to Ahmi. “Stay with her.”

The woman nodded.

Carver released Amryn and pushed to his feet. The high cleric still stood in the center of the room. He was clearly fighting to keep his voice low as he squared off with Ivan. The Wolf’s bulk was enough to intimidate anyone, but the comparison between him and the aging, bald cleric was especially stark.

Argent was kneeling beside Jayveh, who was laid out on the settee nearest to the high cleric. The prince seemed torn between paying attention to his wife, the physician who stood nearby, and the high cleric.

Carver stalked up to them, easily interrupting Zacharias’s defensive words toward Ivan. “Where is it?”

The high cleric’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s what?”

“The note.”

Argent’s head whipped up. “What note?”

“It reveals nothing of importance,” Zacharias said, his nose in the air.

Ivan’s body stiffened. “A note was left and you weren’t going to share that?”

The high cleric bristled. “I would have done so, just not here. It won’t do any good to further upset the ladies.”

“The ladies were almost killed,” Carver snapped. “I don’t see how a message from their would-be killer could cause them much more distress.” He stretched out a hand, his stare intent.

Zacharias’s scowl was deep, but he drew a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over.

Carver flipped it open, his eyes scanning the scrawled words.

We killed your future when we killed your wives. Without them, there can be no children. No peace.

No empire.

“The handwriting is different,” Ivan said, reading over Carver’s shoulder. “This isn’t Cora’s killer.”

Unless the killer had disguised his handwriting.

Argent held out his hand, and Carver surrendered the note to him.

Zacharias huffed. “It’s merely an attempt to demoralize us, Your Highness.”

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