Page 102 of Esperance

He followed her gaze. “What is it?” he asked, his voice pitched low.

Her eyes darted to him, then back into the trees. “I think someone is out there.” Her whisper was soft, but edged with anxiety.

His eyes narrowed on the trees. “What did you see?”

“Nothing, I just . . .” Her spine stiffened. “Someone is out there.”

The hairs on his arms lifted. As much as he searched, he saw nothing hiding in the thick foliage. But his instincts screamed, and his palm itched for a weapon. “Maybe it’s the guards.”

Amryn’s head shook slightly. “It’s not the guards.”

“How do you know? What do you hear?”

She glanced at him, and the dread in her sea-green eyes made his heart lurch. “We need to get off this path.Now.”

“Why?”

She surprised him by snagging his wrist. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched him. Saints, had sheeverinitiated the contact between them? “Just trust me. We need to hide.”

He nearly dug in his heels, but everything about this felt . . . wrong. Eerie. And trusting Amryn was strangely intuitive, despite everything. So he allowed her to pull him into the trees on their right, and the path quickly disappeared behind them.

Amryn didn’t release him, though dragging him was unnecessary. He knocked a frond away from his face, curiosity raging. “How do you know someone is out there?”

“It’s not just someone,” she said, her breaths coming out faster as they hurried through the underbrush. “There’s a group of them.”

She’d avoided his question. Twice, now. “How do you know it’s not the guards or one of the other couples?”

She darted a look over her shoulder, but didn’t stop moving. “I guess I don’t know. But something isn’t right.”

On that, they agreed. He could only think of one reason for Amryn to know so surely about a threat: if it was the rebels, and she knew of their plan.

She stumbled, and her fingers strangled his wrist.

He flipped his hand and grabbed her forearm, steadying her.

She twisted toward him, making her messy braid swing. The fear on her dirt-streaked face was unmistakable. “They’re following us,” she breathed.

Carver strained his ears, and his pulse ratcheted when he heard movement behind them. Distant and quiet, but deliberate. Not an animal. And not just one man—several.

Every part of his focus went to the coming threat. He could interrogate Amryn about her impossible knowledge later.

“How many?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know. Maybe three or four.” Her panic was palpable, putting a tang in the air that he remembered all too well. His muscles relaxed, easing into a trained battle state.

He released her, shrugged the pack off his back, and handed it to her.

She took it without a word and pushed her arms through the straps, her nerves obvious as her body trembled.

He tried to keep his voice even and calming. “I need you to keep going. Double back to the road as soon as it feels safe. I’ll find you.” She’d only divide his attention if she stayed for the coming fight; mostly because he’d need to keep her safe, and partially because she might be the one whoactuallytried to kill him.

He bent, reaching for the nearest stick he could use as a club. Thankfully, the storm had created several good options. When he straightened, he saw Amryn hadn’t moved.

She gripped the straps of the pack with tense fingers and her freckles appeared all the more stark as she paled. “You can’t overpower a group of men. You don’t even have a weapon.”

He hefted the makeshift club he’d chosen.

Her eyebrows slammed down. “You can’t be serious.”

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