Page 19 of Esperance

Her steps slowed as they reached the breakfast room. Beyond the arched doorway, Carver could hear the hum of voices, and the scents of breakfast wafted into the hall. But he paused with Amryn, the two of them standing alone in the hall.

This moment felt weighted, and he wanted to say the right thing.

“My father described the mountains of Ferradin,” he found himself sharing. “How snow can top the peaks even in summer, making them a vivid blue and white on top, but covered in trees and cliffs and wildflowers everywhere else. They sound breathtaking.”

Amryn stared at him, and as her eyes slowly narrowed, he felt a sinking in his gut.

“Your father has only been to Ferradin once, I think,” she said quietly. “To conquer it.”

She stepped around him and entered the breakfast room, leaving him standing alone in the hall.

Chapter 7

Amryn

Amryn took a seat at the long table, her pulse skittering. All around her, couples laughed, talked, or had already begun eating. The brown-haired woman on her left barely looked at her, though a cool haughtiness came from her, barbed with jealousy. Amryn didn’t know her name, and she didn’t understand her jealousy—until it spiked when Carver settled on Amryn’s other side.

Perhaps her jealousy came from not gaininghimas her husband?

You can have him,she thought sourly.

Carver was handsome, it was true. And he was certainly high-ranking in the empire. But she wanted nothing to do with him.

He’d taken her by surprise at nearly every turn, and she was beginning to think that was deliberate on his part. It was almost as if he were trying to catch her off guard, just so he could pry into her mind and learn her secrets.

Despite the unexpected kindness he’d shown in not claiming what was his by law, she still didn’t feel safe around him. Not when the only man in Esperance more loyal to the emperor was Prince Argent.

“Your father has only been to Ferradin once, I think. To conquer it.”

She shouldn’t have said that. Nothing about those words—or her pointed tone—could do anything but paint her in a negative light. Something she really shouldn’t risk, considering all she was hiding.

Carver reached for the wooden bowl of figs in front of her, and his increased nearness made her skin prickle.

He didn’t seem to notice her sudden stillness. He piled figs, cubed melon, fried eggs, ham, and some kind of brown, crusty bread onto his plate, and began to eat.

Amryn picked at a few items that seemed palatable, though once again she was reminded that the food here was wholly different from that found in Ferradin.

A bitter-smelling drink was poured for her by a servant, and she wrinkled her nose. It was thicker and darker than tea, and steam rose from the cup. Considering how overheated she already was, she had no desire to try it.

Carver leaned in, his voice low. “It’s coffee. It’s made from beans. We have it in Westmont as well.”

“I’m not thirsty.” But she did eye the pitcher of juice across the table. It was just a bit too far for her to politely reach.

“It’s delicious,” Carver assured her. “Probably an acquired taste, though.” He lifted his own cup and took a sip. He cracked a smile when he saw she was watching, and she hated that heat touched her cheeks.

His words, combined with that half-smile, was like a challenge. After stumbling so much around him, she wasn’t willing to back down now.

She lifted the cup, blew on it gently, then sipped cautiously.

The brew burned her tongue, but it was the taste that had her fighting a gag. She set it aside. “I suppose my palate is a little more discerning than yours.”

“You can add milk to it,” Carver said.

“I can alsonotdrink it.”

He huffed a short laugh. “True.” He surprised her once more by reaching for the pitcher of juice that she’d been eyeing, and pouring her a glass.

“Thank you,” she said, a bit grudgingly.