Page 162 of Esperance

More. More. More.

She had been able to feel everyone in Esperance. And that burning poison . . . The horrible red-glowing gem.

AWAKE.

Her fingers pressed harder on the glass. “We were dying. The poison . . .” Her stomach burned at the mere memory of that pain. “We survived.”

Carver watched her closely. “We did. So did everyone else.”

Not a hallucination.

Ice slid down her spine.

Misgiving rose inside Carver, but his tone remained careful. Calm. “You did something last night. To the poison. I could feel it leaving me, and going into you. I know how that sounds, but . . . I know what I saw. What I felt.” The skin around his eyes tightened. “That necklace—the one with the red stone. It was glowing.”

Her throat felt suddenly tight as his misgiving flared. “What happened to the amulet?” she asked.

He studied her with unrelenting scrutiny. “It’s safe. I decided to keep it hidden until I could ask you about it. I don’t know what it is, but it was unnatural. I couldn’t pry it away from you. I don’t think you could even hear me.” Undercurrents of remembered fear and vulnerability wavered from him.

“I heard you,” she whispered.

His jaw flexed. She could feel the shift of his focus—he was still concerned about the amulet, and he would demand answers—but desperation suddenly clutched him. “You weren’t responding. Your eyes kept fluttering closed. You wouldn’t stop shaking.” His pain, his terror—it threaded the air around them. “I’ve seen men die more times than I want to remember, but that . . . that was the most terrifying moment of my life.

Her heart swelled. “Carver . . .”

“You saved my life,” he said. “You saved all of us. I just don’t knowhow.”

“I don’t know how, either.”

“You don’t know how you healed us?”

“No.”

Doubt swirled. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I . . . I don’t know what happened. That amulet—”

“It wasn’t the amulet. Not at first. I might have been dying, but Iknowyou started healing mebeforeyou touched that thing.” His throat bobbed. “Who are you, Amryn?”

Who.

Notwhat.

The difference for him might have been inconsequential, but to her, it was everything.

She was at a crossroads. She could lie and continually dodge his suspicion, or . . .

She could tell him the truth.

Panic clamped around her chest. She knew the pain of betrayal. Her ownfatherhad sold her to the Order of Knights. Carver could easily do the same. Once, she would have beencertainof it. Now . . .

Carver leaned closer, twining his fingers with hers. “You can trust me,” he whispered.

Trust.

It was a choice. Jayveh had said that once.

She wanted to trust Carver. The desire to do so was so powerful, it was an ache inside her chest.