Page 37 of Esperance

Marriset eyes fairly twinkled. “I’m grateful I can finally play you.”

Argent seemed wholly oblivious to her flirtation. He merely sent her a small smile and the game began. Amryn let the others carry the conversation. And, since Argent kept stealing glances at Jayveh, it was mostly left to High Cleric Zacharias and Marriset to talk. As the cleric droned on about Esperance’s gardens, Marriset’s looks at Argent became more lingering. And definitely hungry.

Perhaps it was the brandy she’d drunk, or she was feeling the effects of Rivard’s growing intoxication, but Amryn had little patience for Marriset’s fixation on Argent. Especially after Jayveh had been so kind to her.

Impulsively, she bumped Marriset’s glass of brandy into her lap.

Marriset flew to her feet with a gasp. “My dress!”

“I’m so sorry,” Amryn said, setting her cards down. “Shall I find a napkin?”

Marriset’s glare was pure ice. She stomped away without another word, and Darrin leapt up from his table to follow her, ruining that game as well.

Rivard’s annoyance was sharp, though Amryn couldn’t muster the energy to care. The high cleric frowned, but he didn’t call Marriset or Darrin back. Instead, he rose to find a couple more clerics to take their places.

“You should be careful,” Argent told her quietly. His words sounded grave, but mirth tickled the air between them. “She could make quite the enemy.”

“I think Marriset wants to eat you,” Amryn informed him.

He choked on a laugh. “What?”

“I’ve seen that look in a person’s eye before. Like they’re staring down a fresh-baked pie.”

Argent’s mouth twitched. “If she starts licking her lips, I assure you I’ll run.”

“She’ll chase you.”

“She won’t get me.” He cocked his head. “Can I ask you something?”

Amryn tried to sober up, but a low buzzing remained in her head. She couldn’t afford to be questioned in this state.

Saints, he was still waiting for her answer. “Sure.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you and Carver didn’t say a word to each other during dinner. Is something wrong?”

“No.”

Argent’s mouth pressed into a line. “Well, in case you were worried about the fight between Carver and Rivard, I wanted you to know that—despite his occupation—Carver isn’t prone to violence. He was provoked, and I’m afraid if his usually good temperament has a weakness, it’s Rivard. I don’t want you to feel uneasy around him. Carver is the best man I know.”

His friendship with Carver was a tangible thing, as was his belief in his words. But Amryn knew she would never feel completely at ease around Carver. She could never relax fully around anyone. No empath could afford such a thing, let alone one who was now part of the Rising.

The high cleric returned, along with a young male cleric who was eager to join the game.

After a couple more rounds, Tam excused herself from the room. Rivard left a little while later. Since others were leaving without repercussions, Amryn finished the round and quietly excused herself, too. As she stood from the table, she caught Carver’s eye from across the room. Cards were spread in his hands, and he didn’t make a move to follow her as she hurried for the door.

She stepped into the corridor, which was darker than the sitting room. Movement from the corner of her eye made her turn, and her body locked up as she spotted Rivard peel away from the shadowed part of the wall.

As he stepped into the light of the nearest glowing lamp, she had to fight the urge to step back.

He stopped a couple paces away from her, and his voice was low as he said, “Make a fool of me again, and you’ll regret it.”

Amryn’s pulse skittered, but self-preservation bled away under the blunt edge of his intoxication, which she felt full-force now that they were relatively alone. She lifted her chin. “It doesn’t seem like you need help to play the fool.”

Rivard’s expression hardened. He took a menacing step forward, and Amryn tensed.

She felt someone step up behind her, and without looking she knew it was Carver.

Rivard froze.