Page 94 of Esperance

Considering the fact Ivan was an ideal candidate for the Rising, Carver wasn’t about to share anything he knew about the rebels infiltrating Esperance. He couldn’t risk showing his hand to a rebel.

“No,” he said, holding Ivan’s stare. “I don’t think it’s possible. The high cleric’s security was checked by the emperor.”

Ivan glanced away, his expression unreadable. “Clearly, the security here isn’t infallible. Cora was murdered, and the other women were poisoned.”

It was hard to argue his point. Especially because Carver felt the same.

There was a short silence, then Carver asked, “Do you have any suspects?”

“Neeyev. But I’ll find her killer, and I will avenge her.”

“Your devotion to her is admirable.”

A muscle jumped in his cheek. “She was little more than a frightened child. She didn’t deserve this fate. Having to leave her home and come here, her marriage to me—her death was just another thing she didn’t deserve. And even though I could not protect her, Icankill the one responsible for cutting her life short.”

“Her death wasn’t your fault,” Carver said.

“It wasn’t,” Ivan agreed. “That weight falls on the shoulders of her killer, as well as the man who ordered us all here.”

He strode away without a backward glance, leaving his vehement words to hang in the air behind him.

Carver walked up the dirt trail, sweat dampening his clothes and slicking his brow. The weight of the pack on his back pulled at his shoulders, and the humidity of the jungle was oppressive. He carried a silver coin, which would have to do for his offering to the Divinities, because he wasn’t sure what else he had to give.

Amryn walked behind him, silent as she’d been since they had set out alone from the main camp.

The high cleric had sent guards ahead of them, and there were servants waiting at the summit with an afternoon meal. The couples had been sent out at slightly staggered times, and along two different paths that led to the peak. Ivan had been paired with a cleric.

Carver had insisted on being put on the same path as Argent, and after the prince had added his insistence, High Cleric Zacharias had acquiesced.

The hike up to Zawri’s peak would take half the day, and as long as they didn’t lag, they’d be back at camp before dark. The pack he carried had food and water for him and Amryn, but nothing else. He didn’t even have a knife, because he couldn’t risk being caught with a weapon he’d smuggled into Esperance. The high cleric was convinced that the soldiers spread across the mountain would be sufficient to guard against any jungle predators.

His conversation with Ivan last night continued to turn over in his mind. The bitter note they’d ended on was a stark reminder that Ivan had no love for the emperor. But the points he’d brought up about Cora’s death were worth considering. He’d wondered if Cora had been killed because she may have discovered the imposter. But what if she’d discovered something to do with the rebels instead?

Either way, Carver doubted the murderer was done.

He hadn’t had long to think on things, though. Soon after Ivan had left him, it was time for dinner. He and Amryn sat together, and Marriset and Darrin had sat across from them. While they ate, Marriset had sent him a few secretive smiles—and Amryn had noticed.

She’d excused herself, claiming a headache. By the time he’d joined her in their tent, she was already asleep—or pretending to sleep. Her back was to him, and her bedroll was tugged as far away from his as the limited space allowed.

They hadn’t spoken a word to each other all morning, and he didn’t relish being alone with her for the day.

Especially if this bloody silence continued.

He peeked over his shoulder at her. “Let me know if you need a break.”

Her cheeks were flushed from the heat or the exertion of the hike, or both. With her fair skin, he’d learned it didn’t take much to show a blush. Her riotous red curls had been roped into a single braid that trailed down her back, and the azure-colored dress she wore had a hem that fell just below her knees, with black leggings that covered her calves and disappeared into her ankle boots. It made hiking easier for her, but he was definitely distracted by the view.

She didn’t respond, or even look at him, but he knew she’d heard.

Though he’d endured her silence for days, her choice not to acknowledge him now hurt more. Or perhaps his thoughts were what hurt him, and a conversation with her—even if it was a fight—would at least give his mind something else to focus on.

“You look overheated. Maybe you should take a drink.”

“I don’t need water.”

The, “or anything else from you”,was strongly implied.

Carver stopped and twisted around to face her. “You don’t need to be stubborn.”