Page 142 of Esperance

And he was looking at her like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing.

Her cheeks warmed. “You look nice.”

“And you are stunning,” he said, his voice heavier than normal.

She played with the ties on her mask, the corner of her mouth rising. “Thank you.”

He crossed the short distance to her. “For you to wear a mask is criminal.” He stopped in front of her, and she could feel anxiety break every other emotion. “Maybe you shouldn’t come tonight.”

Feeling his genuine concern for her, she smiled softly. “You’re the one who’s walking into a trap.”

“It’s a calculated risk with precautions,” he argued smoothly. “But I don’t like that you’ll be alone—even for a moment.”

“If I don’t go to the feast, Samuel will be suspicious.”

“You could have a headache.”

She lifted one eyebrow. “Isn’t that Jayveh’s excuse?”

“You can both have headaches.”

She shook her head. “You said I need to act like I’m still a rebel. Like nothing’s wrong. I need to be exactly where I’m supposed to be tonight—at the celebration, then in the tea room a quarter before midnight. Samuel said he’d meet me after the assassinations, which means if everything goes according to plan, you and Ford will catch Samuel and whoever else tries to assassinate you before any rebels come to meet me.”

“And if thingsdon’tgo according to plan and Samuel or another rebel comes to you?”

“Then I tell them we need to use the south exit, because I overheard you tell Argent that it’s the only one without an increased guard tonight,” she said, reciting the plan he’d drilled into her. “The guards you stationed there will capture him, and keep me safe.”

Carver’s eyebrows tugged together. “I wish there was a way to have a guard on you at all times.”

“There’s not, though.” Since Amryn was required to leave the ballroom before the strike, she couldn’t deviate from Samuel’s instructions in any way. She couldn’t be trailed by a guard, and they couldn’t even risk planting guards in the adjacent rooms, in case the rebels scouted out the meeting place beforehand.

Amryn moved to her vanity and found the small black purse with the fake wax copies of the seals. She secured it to her wrist with the attached silk ribbons, then twisted back to face him. “Are you ready to go?”

“Almost.” From his back pocket, Carver pulled out a small knife and sheath. “I know this breaks some rules, but I’ll feel better if you have this.”

She eyed the blade hesitantly. “I’m not sure if I could actually use that.”

“I guess we’ll need to increase your time on the training field so you feel more confident.” They’d only had a few scattered matches on the training field during their time at Esperance, and while she’d enjoyed her time with Carver, she didn’t like to think of actually using any of her newly acquired skills in a fight. It had nothing to do with confidence, and everything to do with being an empath.

“I assume you’ll be armed?” she asked.

“I’ve got a few hidden blades.” Carver handed her the sheathed knife, and she had to appreciate how lightweight the blade and holster were. He nodded to her leg. “You can wear it on your calf.”

She moved to the bench at the foot of her bed and set her foot there, then gathered up the hem of her skirt. Unfortunately, holding the silky material while also fumbling with the sheath didn’t work well—especially with the purse hanging on her wrist.

“Here.” Carver was suddenly there, and her breath caught when he took the sheath from her hands. He bent and wrapped the leather straps around her calf, securing the blade onto the outside of her leg. His fingertips ghosted over her skin, and she swayed. Her hand dropped instinctively to his nearby shoulder, to steady herself. The heat from his body bled into her palm, and muscles beneath her hand flexed as he worked.

He peeked up at her. “Is that too tight?”

Saints, he was so close. And there was something about havinghimlooking up atherthat made her stomach flutter.

Her cheeks were warm, but she managed to meet his gaze. “No, it’s fine.”

He dipped his chin and finished securing the sheath.

When he straightened, he cupped her elbow, which kept her balanced as she dropped her skirt and planted both feet back on the floor.

She didn’t feel altogether steady, though. “Thank you.”

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