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Karim’s shoulders dropped, though tension remained in his voice as he said, “Jekem said the spare darts didn’t have the poison. Only the loaded one. He just wanted you to lower your guard.”
Imara inhaled sharply. “I’mnotdying?”
Karim shook his head. “No.”
She could barely comprehend it.She wasn’t dying.There had been no poison on that dart.
She may not be dying, but a weight still crushed her chest. Panic she didn’t know how to dispel. She blinked rapidly to stop her tears from falling.
Desfan bowed his head, muttering a rapid prayer in Mortisian, his hold on her not relaxing.
Skyer pushed to his feet. “Where is this Jekem?”
Karim nodded toward the bedroom.
Skyer marched around Karim and disappeared into the room.
Imara shook a little as she looked at Karim. “Razan . . .?”
“She’s fine,” Karim said, his voice a little rougher than before. “He hit her temple—hard—but she’ll wake soon. I put her on your bed.”
Relief swelled, making it a little easier to breath. “Go to her.”
Karim hesitated, but only briefly before he returned to the bedroom.
Imara turned her attention back to Desfan, just in time to see his thumb brush carefully over her small cut. There was a tremor in the motion that tugged at her heart. “Thank the fates you’re all right,” he breathed.
She gingerly touched the back of his bleeding hand. “You’re hurt.”
“Things didn’t go smoothly at the warehouse.”
That was hardly an answer. “Did you capture Sahvi?” she asked.
Desfan’s body tensed as he glanced up at her. “No. We’re still looking for him. We seized Fang’s ship, though, so Sahvi will need to find another way out of Duvan.”
“Is Liam secure?”
“Yes.” A strange note colored his tone. “He had a chance to escape, but . . . he surrendered to save a couple of people who showed up to help him.”
Imara’s eyes widened. “That seems out of character for Liam.”
“It does,” Desfan agreed.
There was more. Imara could sense it, and her dread built. “What about Fang’s family?”
“We found them,” Desfan said. “That’s why we were gone so long; we had to search several buildings. One of Sahvi’s men that we captured told us that Fang’s family was being kept near the harbor, but he didn’t know where. He said the men Sahvi left with them had orders to kill Ayma, her husband, and their child once Fang’s ship left the harbor.”
Imara squeezed his hand. “I’m so glad you saved them.”
“So am I.” He paused. “Fang is dead.”
Understanding swept through her; that’s why he sounded so defeated. Desfan was a good man, and he no doubt blamed himself for not keeping everyone alive. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.
Desfan lifted one shoulder. “He was a criminal. He didn’t follow the plan. But in the end, he was just a terrified father and grandfather.”
Imara had never met Fang, but her heart hurt for him—and his daughter, who was surely mourning him.
Desfan shifted before her, and one hand lifted. His knuckles brushed the curve of her cheek, coaxing her gaze to lock on his. “Imara, what you said when you thought you were dying . . . Did you mean it?” Hope burned in his eyes.
