Chapter 27 #2
Kulver took a deliberate sip from his glass, lengthening the tense moment.
After he swallowed, he said, “Your wife is thoroughly enchanting, General.” He raised his wineglass toward Amryn.
“It’s been an absolute pleasure, Amryn. I hope our paths cross again soon.
” Without waiting for a response, he sauntered away.
Carver tracked him through the crowd, every muscle in his body coiled tight.
“He’s despicable,” Amryn muttered, unable to hold in her light shudder.
Carver stiffened. In the space of a breath, he’d released her so he could shift to stand in front of her, ducking his chin to catch her gaze. “What did he do? Did he touch you?”
Intensity throbbed in each word, which only fed the adrenaline rushing through her. She forced herself to take a breath. “No.” Except for the brief kiss on her hand. No need to share that with Carver. She shook her head. “He just has no shame. He enjoys seducing women—especially married women.”
A growl moved up Carver’s throat. “I’ll have a word with him.”
“I’m not sure that would do any good.”
“Then I’ll have more than words with him.”
The threat in Carver’s response shouldn’t thrill her, but the protectiveness in them certainly did. She squeezed his arm. “Why don’t we just ignore him?”
“You should definitely ignore him,” Carver said, some of his anger filtering out. “We should also make time for some defensive training. You need to learn how to fend off an attacker.”
She snorted. “I don’t think I’m supposed to attack members of the emperor’s staff.”
“Maybe not. But arrogant men who make you uncomfortable? You shouldn’t hesitate to show them your harpy nature.”
Her shoulders drew back, shock shooting through her. “My harpy nature?”
“Yes.” He lifted one shoulder. “I think of you that way sometimes.”
A bit of hurt sliced over her skin. “You think I’m a harpy?”
“No.” He leaned in to whisper, “You’re my harpy.”
His warm breath teased the sensitive skin of her ear. She fought a shiver as every fine hair on her body lifted. Trying to muster a glare, she pulled back enough to meet his eyes. “I believe when a man gives a woman an endearment, it’s supposed to be sweet and endearing.”
Carver grinned an unrepentant half-smile that made her heart miss a beat. “Maybe. But I prefer my fierce harpy.” His eyes grew a little more serious as he ducked toward her, coming so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. “I love it when you snap at me.”
Her pulse rushed at his nearness, his intensity. She struggled to keep her thoughts straight. “You . . . like it when I get upset with you?”
His expression softened. “I love that you feel safe enough to get upset with me, sweetheart.”
Her breath caught. Not just from hearing the endearment she loved uttered in his smooth, low voice, but because those words were so wonderfully, completely true. Because even if she still struggled with the fact that he wouldn’t open up to her, she knew she was safe with him.
She held his stare, her cheeks warming as she murmured, “Perhaps being a harpy isn’t so bad.”
At her soft response, his blue eyes shined. The air between them thinned. Changed.
She knew she wasn’t the only one to feel the sudden charge between them; not with the way Carver’s smile slowly fell, his intensity increasing as he searched her face.
When his focus dropped to her lips, anticipation arrowed through her, tightening something low in her abdomen.
“Your attention, please!” a booming voice called from the head of the room.
Amryn startled, and Carver tightened his grip on her hand.
“If you would please take your seats,” the same voice said again as the room quieted. “Dinner will now be served.”
Dinner was a long affair. There were multiple courses, and while Amryn had gotten used to some of the fare, since it had been served in Esperance, there were many southern dishes she was unfamiliar with.
Rice with a spicy sauce that singed her tongue.
Thinly sliced meats that rioted with flavor.
Cubed fruit that was overly tart. Flat bread seasoned with unusual spices. None of it was bad, just different.
Jayveh was constantly locked in conversations with those around her, but she sent Amryn several grateful smiles throughout the meal. Her friend remained shaken after the latest attempt on her life, though most of her concern had been for Amryn.
She could admit her arm was beginning to throb, but she refused to leave before the meal was done.
Especially not with Lisbeth and Rhone sitting nearby.
While the knight had seemed to mostly ignore her, the female cleric had already looked her way several times during the meal.
There was no denying the chill that bled through Amryn any time Lisbeth’s eyes fell on her.
The cleric had never directly spoken to Amryn, and yet there was a strange sense of knowing in the woman’s eyes.
It was unsettling, and it made her all the more grateful to have Carver at her side.
He handled most of the conversations aimed their way, and beneath the table his hand rested on her knee, his thumb tracing gentle circles.
My fierce harpy.
Something deep inside her thrilled at the knowledge that he saw her that way. As fierce. As his.
When the meal finally ended, the emperor and Jayveh were the first to leave.
It was the silent cue others had been waiting for.
While the music kept playing and many remained at the tables, talking and laughing as they sipped coffee or wine, most of the nobles made their way out.
When Carver asked if she was ready to leave, she was quick to nod.
Once they’d made their way through the busier halls and were alone in a long corridor, he asked, “How is your arm feeling?”
“It hurts,” she admitted.
His lips pressed into a line. “I’m sorry.”
“Sleep will help,” she assured him. When his guilt and worry lingered, she decided to distract him. “I met Berron tonight.”
Carver shot her a look. “You did?”
She proceeded to tell him about her encounter with his brother.
Carver did not look pleased by the end. “I’m sorry he was rude to you.”
“He’s hurting,” Amryn said, lifting one shoulder in a half shrug.
“That doesn’t give him the right to treat you badly or make you uncomfortable.”
“He didn’t offend me in any way.” Her lips pursed. “Well, I didn’t like how he talked about you.”
Carver grunted. “He hates me.”
Amryn said nothing to that. She feared Berron actually might hate his brother. At the very least, he was jealous and bitter. “I met Chancellor Janson as well. He came looking for Berron.”
“Oh? What were your impressions of him?”
She thought back on their brief interaction.
“He was kind. Berron actually deferred to him, which surprised me. I think he respects him.” She went on to tell Carver about the dedication she’d felt in him to end the sonne trade.
“His reason for hating the drug felt deeply personal,” she added.
Then she shared her observations about Kulver.
Carver’s mood darkened a bit, but when she finished, he surprised her by asking about her impressions of Jamir.
Amryn hadn’t thought much about Jayveh’s uncle since leaving the prison earlier that day, but she told Carver what she could remember about the man’s emotions.
When she’d finished, Carver asked, “Could you tell if he was lying about Berron and Rix?”
She frowned. “It can be hard to tell if someone’s lying, especially if they’re feeling a lot, since the other emotions can cover the guilt.
Jamir’s strongest emotions in that moment were desperation and fear.
My guess is, he was willing to tell any lie to take our attention off him, even if only for a little while. ”
“Does it bother you?” Carver asked suddenly. “That I’m asking for your . . . impressions?”
He spoke guardedly, even though they were alone. This wing of the palace was so quiet, she wondered if every room they passed was deserted.
“No,” she said softly, choosing her own words with care. “Rix often asked for my opinion about people in Torin’s court.”
Carver glanced over at her. The light from the nearest glowing lamp revealed the seriousness in his eyes as he said, “I value your opinion, Amryn. And not just because of your gift.”
Her heart melted a little at that. They were walking closely together, but not touching. She stretched out her fingers, letting the tips brush against the back of his hand. “Thank you.”
His knuckles skated against hers in a silent response. Then he told her about his evening—including his encounter with Lisbeth.
Amryn tensed. “She gives me an unsettled feeling. Sometimes she stares at me like she knows me.”
Concern flared in Carver. “Could she know . . .?”
Amryn shook her head. If Lisbeth knew she was an empath, she would have reported her to the knights immediately.
Carver must have reached the same conclusion. But even though his worry faded, unease lingered. “I think it would be best for you to avoid her.”
“That’s certainly my goal.”
They turned a corner, the staircase that would take them up to their suite now in sight.
“Can I ask you a question?” Amryn asked.
“Of course.”
“Why did the emperor choose to adopt that religion? The Church of the All-Seeing Divinities didn’t even originate in Craethen.”
A furrow appeared between Carver’s dark brows. “You know the first two kingdoms to join the empire?” When she stared at him, he cracked a smile. “I promise, I’m trying to answer your question.”
“Westmont was the first,” she said. “Then Daersen.”
He nodded. “The emperor approached my grandfather—the king of Westmont at the time—because they were friends, and he needed our armies. But in order to defend Craethen effectively, and to have access to the northern rivers, he needed the cooperation of Daersen. While my grandfather agreed with the emperor’s vision of peace through uniting the kingdoms, the king of Daersen had some demands. ”