Chapter 27
Amryn
Amryn stared at the man blocking her path, her fingers tight around her wineglass. He was undeniably handsome, but she didn’t like how close he stood. Standing on the edge of the great room, she felt isolated with this stranger.
His smile widened. “I’ve startled you. My sincerest apologies.”
He looked to be around Carver’s age, which made him a handful of years older than her twenty years.
He was handsome, with light brown hair that fell nearly to his shoulders in soft waves.
His eyes were a dark shade of green that was instantly compelling.
He was tall and slender, but not without muscle.
His clothes were clearly expensive, and he wore a few jeweled rings on his long fingers.
He held a half-empty wineglass in one hand.
Everything about him screamed wealth and confidence.
He held out a hand. “I’m Chancellor Ryun Kulver. You are . . .?”
“Amryn Lukis—Vincetti.” Saints, it still felt like an afterthought, especially when she was flustered.
“Ah, the Chosen from Ferradin. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Vincetti.” Chancellor Kulver’s hand was still extended, waiting for hers. Her cheeks warmed, awkwardness pricking as she belatedly placed her free hand in his.
His palm was soft, nothing like Carver’s roughened skin.
Kulver lifted her hand and bent, his lips brushing her knuckles. When he released her hand and straightened, he was grinning.
Kulver. She belatedly realized she’d heard the name. Carver had mentioned it. This was one of the men Trevill had named as a political rival.
“Vincetti,” Kulver mused. “You’re General Vincetti’s wife, then.
” He took a swallow of wine, his gaze seeking confirmation.
When she nodded, he slowly grinned. “I don’t know the man, but I have to question his sanity.
Leaving the most beautiful woman in the room unattended?
You’re liable to become bored.” He lowered his tone.
“But then, all it takes to solve that problem is for someone interesting to come along.” He winked.
She nearly laughed at his outright flirtation, but instead she took a sip of her wine. Arrogance poured from him, but no amount of self-confidence should lead to this level of cockiness.
Kulver eased a little closer, and it took everything in her not to retreat.
She instinctively knew that such a move would only spur him further.
“Amryn,” he said slowly, as if her name was a fine wine he was sampling.
“It’s a lyrical name. Befitting for a daughter of Ferradin.
” His eyes traced over her hair, including the ringlets that fell from the elaborate bun.
“Absolutely stunning,” he said softly. “It looks almost unreal.” She swore his fingers twitched at his sides.
Thankfully, he didn’t try to touch her hair. Instead, his gaze settled back on hers, that confident smile still in place. “I’ve considered visiting Ferradin, but I suppose there’s no point now. Not when I’ve seen the most beautiful thing your kingdom has to offer.”
The unpleasant heat in her cheeks increased, but she tried to ignore her blush. If she thought about it, it would only get worse. Besides, it was past time for her to regain some balance in this exchange.
Rather than just feeling his confidence, she allowed it into herself, letting it fill her and feed her own. She eyed his glass. “How much wine have you had tonight?”
He chuckled. “Not enough to impede my judgment, I assure you.”
“I wouldn’t be so confident about that.”
“Oh, but I’m always confident. It’s one of the first things you should know about me.” His smile was slow and wide as he added, “You should also know I’m the sort of man who always gets what I want.”
She snorted. “Does that truly work on women?”
Surprise wafted from him, followed quickly by a stab of intrigue. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully on her. “Generally, yes.”
“Hm.” She took another sip of wine, and while she rolled it on her tongue, she considered her next words.
She hadn’t tried to catch Kulver’s attention, but now that she had it, should she try to learn what she could from him?
She suspected he was more likely to speak to her than Carver.
She refused to flirt with the man, however.
“I’m a married woman,” she reminded him.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “That’s not an issue.” His voice lowered. “Arranged marriages are rarely conducive to faithfulness, after all.”
She wondered if any woman had found Kulver’s approach to be charming. He was undeniably handsome, but everything else about him was . . . less appealing. “I assure you, I’m happily married.”
“We’ll see,” he said, almost indulgently.
She huffed once. “Chancellor Kulver—”
“You may call me Ryun.”
“Chancellor Kulver,” she repeated firmly. The man’s smile only widened. She fought the urge to roll her eyes again. “I was curious about something.”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping lower. “I’m happy to satisfy your curiosity on any point, Amryn.”
She ignored the deliberate use of her name, and the innuendo that spilled so easily from him. “I’ve heard some of the emperor’s advisors were against the idea behind Esperance, and the formation of the Craethen Council. Is that true?”
He seemed a little startled by her question, but he recovered easily. “Yes, that’s true. Some of the chancellors thought it wasn’t the wisest course.”
“Were you one of them?”
Kulver’s expression tightened, though his smile remained in place.
“Yes, actually. But not because I oppose the emperor’s idealistic vision.
I just think politics should be left to those who have been trained.
” He leaned in, his voice pitched low. “Tell me honestly, Amryn. Do you see yourself as a politician?”
“No.” She saw no point in lying.
Kulver dipped his chin. “Not only that, but I suspect you have no political aspirations.”
The only aspiration she’d ever had was to stay as far away from the emperor and the church as possible; to keep her secret, and her life. “You’re right,” she said.
Her confirmation only strengthened his self-assurance.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “And yet, now you’re a politician.
An important one, at that. And none of you got to finish your training, because your time at Esperance was cut short.
Some of the chancellors are, understandably, a little concerned. ”
“Like Trevill was concerned?”
Kulver’s smile fell. “That traitor doesn’t represent the chancellors. The damage he’s caused . . . May he rot in that cell for the rest of his life.” Nothing in his voice or emotions hinted that he knew Trevill was dead.
Amryn watched as he took another drink from his nearly empty glass. “You didn’t consider Trevill to be a friend, then?”
“No. We spoke on occasion, and he was welcoming enough when I became a chancellor.” Kulver’s chest puffed out. “I’m the youngest member to ever be admitted onto the emperor’s advisory staff.”
“Is that supposed to impress me?” Amryn asked, lifting her glass to her lips.
He watched her too intently before saying, “I’m not sure what might impress you, Amryn. I’m beginning to think you’re wholly unique.”
Before she could attempt to form a response, searing jealousy punched through the bloodstone’s muting effect, marking the exact moment Carver spotted her and Kulver together.
Her head snapped up, and she easily found Carver as he all but stalked toward them.
Kulver followed her gaze. He laughed softly. “It seems we’ve caught your husband’s attention.” His glee over that fact made her stomach squirm.
She sidestepped Kulver, though he was quick to readjust and stand at her side. His elbow brushed her arm, and she instinctively jerked back.
Carver’s stab of annoyance was sharp enough to border on anger, and his eyes cut between them as he drew to a stop in front of them.
Kulver’s smile didn’t falter under Carver’s sharp scrutiny. “General Vincetti, I presume?”
“Yes.” Carver’s tone was stiff. “Who are you?”
“Chancellor Ryun Kulver.” He held out a hand.
Carver took it. Amryn winced as she saw his grip flex, and she felt the spark of resulting pain in Kulver.
Surprisingly, the politician didn’t flinch. Instead, his own grasp deliberately tightened.
Amryn felt determination throb from both men, stronger than any bite of pain they felt. She didn’t think either of them would deign to pull away first.
She sidled closer to Carver, her voice filled with false calm. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”
Her words were supposed to diffuse the situation, but Carver didn’t even glance at her as he said, “And I thought you were still with my father, until I found him and realized that wasn’t the case.
” His tone was hard, his eyes even harder as they remained locked on Kulver.
His knuckles had turned white, and the tendons in his hand strained.
Clearly, a more direct approach was needed to break them apart. Amryn curled her fingers around Carver’s elbow and tugged.
For a moment, she didn’t think he’d release Kulver. But—after a final clench that sparked pain in Kulver and male satisfaction in Carver—he dropped his hold and set his hand over hers, pressing her palm against his arm to keep it pinned there.
It was an unmistakable claiming, and Kulver knew it.
His smile climbed higher. He liked a challenge.
It must have made the seduction more exhilarating for him.
“Worried about losing your wife?” he asked Carver, his eyes glinting with both humor and excitement.
The double meaning in his words was vibrantly clear.
Carver watched him steadily. “No.”
Kulver only grinned. The relish he felt was downright sickening. He liked the havoc he wreaked between women and their husbands.
Amryn’s stomach rolled. She wished she hadn’t drunk quite so much wine.