Then she would tell him everything.
She didn’t get to talk to Carver before dinner.
He entered their suite too late; Ahmi was there, helping Amryn with her hair, which prevented them from talking. And when Carver took her arm to escort her to dinner, she couldn’t risk having this conversation in the hallway.
Dinner was excruciating. Sitting beside him, desperate and terrified to talk to him. Hearing Samuel talk to Argent so easily. Feeling utterly helpless.
Carver seemed to realize something was amiss. As everyone else rose from their chairs and moved into the adjacent sitting room, he touched her arm, stilling her movements.
“What’s wrong?” his voice low, his blue eyes almost wary.
She stared at him, her heart hammering. This was the moment.
There would be no going back.
“I need to talk to you,” she whispered.
Carver’s jaw flexed, and his gaze shuttered. “Not here.” He took her hand, and if he noted the way she trembled, he didn’t acknowledge it.
He made their excuses to the others, saying Amryn had a headache, then he led her from the dining room and through the quiet halls. He didn’t say anything, and his emotions were muted in that way that was uniquely his.
All too soon they were in their suite, standing in the moonlight that spilled through the open balcony doors.
He released her hand and took a step back. The fierce hold on his emotions cracked when he met her gaze. She could feel his anxiety, and his suspicion wound around them, nearly choking her.
He’d felt much the same last night, standing in front of her in this very room. He’d been two words away from finishing his accusation, phrased as a question only because he wanted to hear her confirmation.
“Are you an empath?”
Her knees shook. Last night, Tam’s scream had interrupted him. Saved her from throwing out denials in an effort to save her life.
Now, she was about to forfeit everything with an admission of treason.
Carver crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you want to tell me, Amryn?” His voice was low and a little rough. A dread pulsed from him.
Or perhaps that was all her own.
She met his stare, her heart thumping so hard against her ribs she didn’t know how they didn’t break. “I need you to listen to me.”
His chin lowered slightly, his gaze firmly on her. “I’m listening.”
“I’m sorry. I need you to know that, too.”
His tension climbed, his fingers digging into his folded arms. “What have you done?”
Her eyes stung with moisture. “I didn’t know what was going to happen. I didn’t know the plan. But Ididcome here intending to help the Rising.”
“I know.”
She stared. “You . . . know?”
His dark eyebrows slammed together. “I’ve suspected for a while. I’ve known since Zawri.”
The whole world tilted. She retreated a step, which pressed her back to one of the tall stone pillars. “You . . .”
“It was the only explanation for how you knew those men were hunting us on the mountain.”
Well, not theonlyexplanation . . .