Page 88 of Esperance

Carver straightened, tugging Marriset’s hands out of his hair.

Marriset twisted around, and she gave a little laugh. “Oh. Hello.” She made a show of fixing her perfectly coiffed hair, and she put a little more of a pant into her breath. “A lovely day, isn’t it?”

Tam arched one brow. “That’s one word for it.”

Carver looked to Amryn. Disgust had risen in her eyes, along with anger.

Her lip curled. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, clearly speaking to Jayveh and Tam. “I’ll find my own way back.”

“Seen enough, have you?” Marriset asked, her voice sickly sweet.

Carver barely hid his grimace, but Amryn met Marriset’s mocking head-on. She even adopted the same prim tone as she lifted her chin. “Yes. I didn’t realize the garden would be infested by snakes.”

Tam coughed, though it sounded more like a swallowed laugh.

Amryn turned on her heel, brushing past the bodyguards who had drifted up behind them, and disappeared around the hedge.

Carver wanted to dart after her, but he stayed where he was. And when Marriset slid her hand into his, he didn’t pull away. Not even when Jayveh’s face fell with disappointment, and Tam’s eyes narrowed.

Carver had shouldered loathing before. This was nothing new.

Except he didn’t think he would ever forget the pain that had cut over Amryn’s face as she’d walked away.

Chapter 23

Amryn

Amryn shoved the book onto the shelfin front of her, her arm heavy with a stack of other books waiting to be shelved. Her focus was on the task Cleric Jane, the museum caretaker, had given her of returning these reference books to the library. She definitely wasn’t focusing on what she’d seen in the garden this morning, or on the surprisingly deep stab of hurt and betrayal she’d felt.

Yet, all she could see when she closed her eyes was Carver’s face buried in Marriset’s neck, and her hands knotted in his dark hair. And all she could feel was the flood of excitement they’d both felt. Right before Carver’s eyes had locked on her, and he’d felt a rush of incriminating guilt.

She slammed another book into place. The extra force helped hide the fact that her hands shook.

“You didn’t care for the ending?”

She glanced over her shoulder.

Cleric Felinus stood behind her, a stack of books in his arms. He nodded to the one she’d just shelved.

Her hold on the books tightened. “I haven’t read them. Cleric Jane just asked me to return them.”

Concern billowed gently, but he kept his tone light. “And yet they managed to offend you?”

“No.”

“Ah.” Cleric Felinus drifted to her side, the hem of his robe skating across the stone floor. “If I may ask . . .whooffended you, then?”

Amryn bit her lower lip. She didn’t even want to say his name.

“Ah,” Felinus said again, more knowingly this time. Compassion and pity mingled, making her throat dry.

“It’s nothing.” She pushed another book onto the shelf, but didn’t manage to feel any lighter.

“I’ve found that sometimes the most vexing things arenothing.” The bald cleric lifted one of his books and shelved it, not looking at her as he continued. “I’m sure you have many friends here, but if you ever need to talk about anything—ornothing, as the case may be—I am available.”

“Thank you,” she said. And she meant it. Felinus had uncomplicated emotions and a calming presence, and she was touched by his quiet friendship. But the last thing she wanted to do was talk about Carver.

Jayveh and Tam had followed her from the garden, and they’d hugged her and offered to cry with her or help break his jaw. But Amryn didn’t want any of that. She just wanted to get away from him, and forget that she’d ever—even for a moment—felt something for him.