Page 52 of Esperance

Ahmi’s sharp intake of breath was answer enough. Her waves of sadness, shock, pain, and fear only solidified Amryn’s sinking suspicion.

She met Carver’s unwavering gaze. “Who?” she breathed.

“Cora.”

Denial whipped through her, but she knew Carver wasn’t lying. She just couldn’t accept the fact that Cora—the youngest bride among them—was dead. That poor girl . . . She was quiet, but she had a gentle soul and a kind heart. Amryn hadn’t known her long enough to truly befriend her, but she felt a horrible pang knowing she was dead. The terror she must have felt . . . Amryn pressed a hand to her stomach.

Carver stepped closer and cupped her elbow. He looked to Ahmi. “Will you go ahead and tell the high cleric we’re coming?”

“Of course,” Ahmi murmured. She hurried away, leaving them alone in the hall.

Carver’s thumb brushed against her sleeve. “Do you need to sit?”

“No.” She lifted her gaze to his. “How . . .?”

“She was stabbed. A maid found her body in one of the small sitting rooms.”

Her gut twisted at the gruesome image her mind conjured.

“We don’t know who did it,” Carver said, his voice grim. “But it was a fresh kill. She’d been dead maybe an hour by the time the maid found her.”

“You saw her?”

His nod was stilted. “I was with Ivan when her body was found.”

Amryn’s eyes pinched closed. The swell of emotion in her own chest was exacerbated by what Carver felt. “How is he?”

“I think he’s in shock. And he’s angry.”

The flatness in his voice had her peeking up at him. “You’re angry, too.”

His jaw locked. “She didn’t deserve that.”

No, she didn’t. Cora had been timid. Shy. Grieving her brother, and anxious about being away from home and married to a stranger—especially an intimidating one like Ivan. Despite attempts to befriend her, Cora had still been closed off from the rest of the brides.

Carver’s voice was heavier as he continued. “Ahmi didn’t know where you were. No one did. We’ve been looking for a half hour.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t know.” His hold on her tightened infinitesimally. “Until we find Cora’s killer, I need you to promise me that you won’t go anywhere alone.”

She looked into his penetrating blue eyes, knowing that was a promise she could not keep. But still she lied and said, “I promise.”

He seemed to realize he was still holding her arm, because he suddenly pulled away. “Do you need another moment before we join the others?”

She didn’t want to go anywhere near the tumultuous emotions everyone was sure to be feeling, but dragging her feet wouldn’t help anything. So she shook her head, and they began walking side by side. There was space between them, but not enough to keep from accidental brushes; her shoulder against his upper arm, his knuckles against her forearm.

Those brief moments of contact were surprisingly comforting, but even before they entered the large receiving room of Esperance, emotions punched through Amryn, stealing any sense of calm.

Fear. Rage. Shock. Sadness.

Amryn wasn’t sure why, but the absence of grief in the room hit her the strongest. None of them knew Cora enough to feel the full depth of her loss, and that seemed a crime. Even her husband had only known her a week.

Carver’s hand settled at the small of Amryn’s back as he guided her across the floor. The large receiving room had once been an ancient throne room. It jutted out from the main temple, which allowed for windows to stretch along both walls, all the way to the end of the room. Stairs led up to a dais, where High Cleric Zacharias stood with Chancellor Trevill, their heads ducked toward each other as they each took turns speaking quietly and rapidly.

Argent was climbing the stairs to join them, and Ivan followed just behind him.

Amryn was still learning to distinguish everyone’s emotions, especially in a crowd, but she could feel Ivan’s fury.