Page 11 of Esperance

Carver looked to Argent. “You haven’t mentioned your role yet.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I thought it was obvious. I’m supposed to keep all of you safe.”

“No. That’smyrole. You just need to keep yourself safe.”

Argent’s gaze softened. “I know you didn’t want me to come. But I had to, Carve. Please understand.”

He did. At least, in theory. He imagined that if he loved a woman—no matter how foolishly—he couldn’t stand by and watch her marry someone else. Still . . . “I know you trust Jayveh,” Carver said quietly. “But I need you to be careful around her, just in case.”

Argent laid a hand on Carver’s shoulder. “She’s on our side. Not everyone is an enemy.” His eyes narrowed. “Speaking of enemies . . .”

Carver lifted a hand. “I don’t want to talk about Rivard.”

Argent sighed. “I’m going to have a hard time keeping you two from killing each other, aren’t I?”

“Not if he stays away from me.”

Argent’s lips pressed together, but he didn’t argue. “At least we know he’s not a rebel.”

That was fair. Rivard’s family was as old and loyal as Carver’s own, and they’d known each other for years—which only made Rivard’s sins that much more unforgiveable to Carver. Still, his betrayal had been personal—nothing against the emperor.

“What about Ford?” Argent asked.

Carver appreciated the change in topic. “He’s in position.” Ford had been a part of Carver’s life since they were children, and he’d been with him during the worst battles in Harvari. While he wasn’t of noble birth, Ford was willing to do anything to help the empire. For the next year, he would live in one of Esperance’s many outlying cabins, alone in the jungle, so he could serve as a messenger. They couldn’t afford to be totally cut off from the rest of the empire; not with the battle they waged against the rebels. The emperor was unwilling to publicly send messages into Esperance, as that would break his own rule. So, Carver, Argent, and Rivard would all rely on Ford to get any necessary messages in and out of Esperance for the next year.

“Do you think Ford can stand being alone for so long?” Argent asked.

It was a reasonable question, since Ford was a man of high spirits and always in need of people and laughter. “He won’t be totally alone. He’ll have contact with me and the messengers.” He glanced at Argent. “Harvari left its mark on him. A little solitude will benefit him.”

Argent loosed a slow breath. “War is ugly.”

He had no idea. As much as Carver loved and respected his friend, Argent had never experienced the true horror of war. He thought he understood. He saw from afar the damage, the cost. But he had never been covered in blood. He had never held a sword until his hands were numb. He’d never been surrounded on all sides, deep in the enemy line, wondering which faceless man would succeed in killing him. He had never had to climb over piles of bodies—men he had personally killed. He had never fought all day and all night, only to spend the next day and night visiting his broken men. He hadn’t sat with them as they cried and died. Buried them, along with the countless innocent women and children who—

He cut off his thoughts before the memories could assault him, overwhelm him.

It was the only way he managed to stay sane.

Argent eyed him. “Are you all right?”

No. Not even close.

Carver’s hands fisted. “I’m fine.” Maybe if he kept saying it, he’d one day believe it.

The main door to the suite swept open, and his father strode in. The high general looked tired as he crossed the room to join them. He bowed to Argent, then gave his report. “The escorts are making their preparations to depart. Some have already left.”

The emperor had intended to leave as well, but after his injury, he would be in Esperance for as long as his recovery took.

Carver dreaded his father’s departure. He hated to lose an ally.

“That’s good,” Argent said. “I feared some would resist leaving, after what happened.”

“I think that fear was merited,” Cregon said. “I can attest to the fear it places in a parent’s heart to leave a child here.”

“What have you overheard in your talks with the other escorts?” Argent asked. He clasped his hands behind his back as he spoke, looking effortlessly regal. He’d mastered the look by the time he was five years old.

“Most are concerned about the security of Esperance, but I heard no one outright disparage the empire.” Cregon frowned. “I don’t know all of them personally, but a few seemed nervous whenever I approached.”

“Youarethe Bloody General,” Carver said his father’s well-known—and well-feared—moniker blithely.

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