Page 57 of Esperance

“You ate astick, just to spite your sister?”

“Yes.” He pushed away from the column and moved to sit on the other end of the settee. “To be fair, it was more of a twig, but it still tasted horrible.”

“You actually ate it?” she asked, her voice rippling with suppressed laughter.

“Yes. Every bark-ridden bit of it.”

She shook her head. “You eating a stick is far more embarrassing than me eating foul berries. At least most berries aresupposedto be eaten.”

“You haven’t even heard the most embarrassing part yet.” His dimple flashed as he smiled. “I was thirteen.”

Her eyes rounded. “Seriously? A thirteen-year-old should have more sense than that!”

“Have youknownany thirteen-year-old boys?”

She chuckled, he smiled, and while they talked, the moon continued its quiet journey across the sky.

Chapter 16

Carver

While Carver silently prepared tosneak out of Esperance under the cover of darkness, he couldn’t help but think of the previous night he’d spent talking to Amryn. As much as he needed to see Ford, he wished he could stay in this sitting room and talk with Amryn until late into the night again. Something had changed between them, though he was hard-pressed to define what it was. She’d stayed with him. Distracted him. And when she’d begun to nod off, he hadn’t hesitated to take her hand and lead her back to the bedroom.

He hadn’t entered her space—hedidview the room as hers—but when her head had tipped back and their eyes had met, and she’d whisperedgoodnight. . .

Saints, his heart started pounding again just thinking of it.

Which wasn’t exactly helpful, since he needed to focus on sneaking out of this temple and past the increased guard.

He eased his way onto the balcony, moving as quietly and fluidly as a ghost. He wore his darkest clothing, including a knitted hood over his head, leaving only his eyes visible. The heat was stifling, even in the middle of the night, but he needed to be invisible.

Though he hadn’t yet snuck out of Esperance, he’d carefully plotted his route and done a practice run as far as the compound’s wall. It was now a routine matter to swing over the balcony’s railing and find grooves in the temple’s carved, ancient stone.

Fingerholds and toeholds were all he needed to scale his way to the ground. His breaths were muffled by the hood, but loud in his ears. Loud enough, it nearly drowned out the echoing sounds of the jungle, as alive at night as it was during the day.

He landed in a crouch near the foliage that butted the side of the temple. He strained all of his senses, but when he picked up no signs of movement, he slipped into the shadowy garden.

Carver had always excelled in matters of stealth, even as a boy. He’d learned to scale walls just so he could smuggle toads into his sisters’ rooms. Their screams had awakened the whole castle, and his father had lectured him, of course. But then he’d also turned Carver over to the spymaster of Westmont for further training. If he hadn’t chosen to become a soldier, he might have been a spy.

He was a soldier at heart, and the role of a general suited him well. But he’d always love the thrill and challenge that came from slipping unnoticed through the shadows, and past patrolling guards—it was exhilarating.

He found the towering cluster of trees at the back of the garden and moved to kneel near the sprawling roots.

They weren’t allowed to have weapons in Esperance—a fact that he hated—but his father had helped him smuggle in a few daggers, which he’d hidden in strategic places. One of which was here, a placement he’d decided when he’d solidified this route as his best option for sneaking out of Esperance.

Between the twisting roots he found the stones he’d laid atop the wrapped dagger. As soon as his fingers curled around the hilt, he breathed a little easier.

He scaled the wall, using the vines and trees that grew along the ancient stone. In moments, he was dropping to the ground on the other side. The ground was wet beneath his boots from an earlier rain, but that didn’t slow him down as he followed the nearly overgrown path that would lead him to Ford.

As he moved in the darkness, he remained alert. Jungles were dangerous places that demanded respect. Night birds made their calls and insects hummed. The thick foliage rustled when animals brushed past, but none were large enough to worry him. Vines draped between towering branches, and some of them moved and coiled. Snakes. They were large and definitely a threat, but they didn’t seem to mind him.

As soon as Carver was far enough away from Esperance to be free of any patrols, he tugged the knitted hood off and ran his fingers through his mussed hair. The smell of fresh rain and wet earth mingled with the musky scents of the jungle and the creatures who called it home. It smelled just like Harvari.

His body tensed, and he had to force himself to relax. To breathe.

He wasn’t in Harvari. He wasn’t fighting for his life. He wasn’t watching his men die.

He wasn’t a prisoner.