Page 141 of Esperance

His voice came out low as he said, “I think I understand now.”

Argent’s head cocked to the side. “Understand what?”

“How you could trust Jayveh, even after her brothers tried to kill you. How you could trust her when she suddenly appeared back in your life and told you about a rebel plot.”

Argent smiled faintly. “Despite your somewhat resigned tone, I’m happy for you, Carve. You deserve every happiness, and Amryn . . . Well, you’re perfectly suited.”

Carver didn’t get a chance to respond. Movement at the edge of the field caught his attention, and he had to force his face to remain neutral as his eyes met Samuel’s.

He’d seen Samuel several times since learning the man was a rebel, and each time he’d managed to put on a pleasant smile and interact normally. This could be no different. They needed the Rising to stick to their plan, and he needed to keep Amryn safe.

Still, Samuel’s smile didn’t seem as effortless as it used to when he called out, “I hope I’m not interrupting. I was eager for another sparring lesson, if you have time.”

Carver matched the man’s smile. “Of course.”

The afternoon passed as the general and the rebel sparred, and the prince of the empire watched.

No one said a word of what was to come.

Chapter 37

Amryn

The Feast of Remembrance arrived.Amryn stood in front of the looking glass in her room and ran her hands down her dress. It was a silver sheath with black threadwork that brought curling accents to life. The sleeveless gown flared just below her hips and fell to the floor in a rippling wave. A small, slightly hidden pocket that she’d inserted herself held her mother’s prayer coin and the old amulet—two things she didn’t like to be without. Her long hair was twisted into an elaborate knot, with some ringlets falling to brush against her bare shoulders. The red of her hair looked all the more vivid because of the silver and black dress. She honestly didn’t know how Ahmi had made something so beautiful out of the plain silver dress she’d had to work with. Her talent was incredible.

Amryn hadn’t brought much jewelry to Esperance, but she had a silver chain with a single diamond—a gift from Torin and Rix for her eighteenth birthday—and that was currently resting beneath the hollow of her throat. Ahmi had brushed varying shades of purple and silver powder over her eyelids, and kohl lined her eyes, darkening the edges and making them vivid for once. A light dusting of powder had muted her freckles, and a faint blush touched her cheekbones. Her lips were scarlet, thanks to lip stain, and as Amryn peered into the looking glass in her room, she actually felt beautiful.

If only she could rein in her nerves.

The days leading up to the Feast of Remembrance had only increased her anxiety. Pretending that nothing was amiss so Samuel—or any other rebels watching—wouldn’t become suspicious had taken its toll. Sadia had grabbed her just today to ask about her mask’s design, and Amryn had struggled to keep the tightness out of her voice. The whole time the other girl chatted, Amryn stared at her and wondered,Are you a rebel, too? Do you know what your husband plans to do tonight?

Sadia’s emotions were dominated by excitement for the night to come, but Amryn only sensed her emotion—she didn’t know the cause. Was she excited for the festivities, or the Rising’s attack?

It was driving her mad, not knowing. Everyone looked like an enemy to her.

It was probably for the best that the high cleric’s schedule kept them so busy. Especially for poor Tam.

She was struggling with Rivard’s death more than Amryn would have imagined. She wasn’t grieving—not exactly. Instead, Tam felt sparks of anger and ripples of melancholy, though shock remained dominant. “It seems so wrong,” she’d whispered once. “I was with Rivard for his final days, but not my own mother? Haven’t enough of us died here? Why won’t they just let us go home?”

Amryn never knew quite how to answer, but Jayveh was always quick to offer words of comfort, or some activity they could do to distract Tam.

Amryn needed distractions as well. If she had too much time to think, she began to wonder what she was supposed to be feeling now that she’d betrayed the rebels—betrayed Rix and Torin. Would they understand, or would they blame her?

Then, of course, there was Carver.

They hadn’t kissed again since that first time. It wasn’t from a lack of desire—for either of them. She could feel Carver’s want every time he looked at her, but he was holding back, becauseshehad pulled away.

Putting distance between them was necessary. She didn’t know how to be vulnerable with him while also protecting her secret. She could sense his concern and confusion, but his patience had been infinite. She wondered if that would change once he didn’t have the distraction of preparing for tonight.

At that thought, nerves tightened in her belly. And it was all the more alarming when she realized not all the nerves came from fear. ShewantedCarver to kiss her again. And that was dangerous.

Knuckles rapped on her door. “Are you ready?” Carver asked through the wood.

Just hearing his deep voice made her shiver. She mentally shook herself. “Yes,” she called out. She took a last look at herself, then moved to the foot of the bed to lift the mask she’d discarded there.

The door pushed open, and she twisted to face Carver. He stilled at the sight of her, his eyes tracking every inch of her. She felt his appreciation, and it made her heart pound. While he studied her, she took in the sight of him.

He wore black with subtle silver embroidery threaded in simple designs across his shoulders and chest—her opposite, and yet her perfect match. The jacket he wore fit like his empirical uniform, enhancing his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His dark hair was combed into perfectly tousled locks and his blue eyes were bright. He’d recently shaved—she could smell his spicy sandalwood soap, and his firm jaw was smooth. Carver Vincetti was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.