Page 35 of Esperance

Her ears rang and her pulse pounded. She couldn’t take his arm. She couldn’t—

She felt Carver’s presence a second before he strode into the room. Amryn tried not to gasp at the dark bruising along his jaw. His eyes swept the scene, narrowing on the high cleric’s extended arm. He cleared his throat, and Zacharias turned.

“Ah, General Vincetti. Good of you to finally arrive. Where were you?”

“I couldn’t find the right jacket.” Carver held out a hand to Amryn. “Shall we?”

She couldn’t keep from staring at the stark discoloration on his bronze skin. For some reason she’d assumed that, since he’d won the fight, he’d be unharmed. It was strange—and a little alarming—how much it bothered her to see him hurt.

“Amryn?” Carver prompted, his voice a little lower than before.

His hand was still extended.

Perhaps it shouldn’t feel any different than when the high cleric had offered his arm, but it did. While both men had blood on their hands, she didn’t know for certain that Carver had helped kill empaths. And that made all the difference in this moment.

She put her hand in his.

His fingers flexed around hers, and then they walked into the dining room.

It was larger than the breakfast room they’d eaten in this morning, and it was decorated lavishly. Candelabras were spaced along the dark wood table, and cushioned high-back chairs were tucked in close. Servants lined the room, waiting for the couples to be seated so they could serve the food. Rich aromas of flat bread dusted in seeds, baked vegetables, and rice with pale gravy and shredded poultry permeated the air. Amryn’s stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten much during tea, and she was ravenous.

The other couples were already seated, leaving two open chairs at the end of the table. Carver only released her to pull back her chair, and then he settled beside her.

“Where were you?” she asked in a whisper.

He glanced at her, and that faint white scar on his chin caught her attention. “I went for a walk and lost track of time.” The skin around his eyes tightened. “Did the high cleric say anything to you? You looked upset.”

She pursed her lips, her eyes dipping to his bruised jaw. “Apparently I wasn’t the only one to get upset today. What happened with Rivard?”

Carver’s expression closed off. “Nothing.”

Her curiosity was fierce, but it was clear Carver wouldn’t answer her questions, and now really wasn’t the time to press.

The high cleric stood at the head of the table, palms pressed together, and everyone quieted as he said the blessing of plenty.

Then dinner began.

Amryn was exhausted. Dinner was a long affair, filled with conversation, high emotions, and strange foods. Carver hadn’t spoken another word to her, and she had ignored him, too. Cora sat across the table from her, and the younger woman felt the same misery Amryn did.

She was grateful when a tray of fruit was brought out for dessert. That meant it was almost time to retire for the night.

She was ready to be away from people.

Unfortunately, the night wasn’t over. The high cleric insisted they all move to the nearest sitting room so they could play Servaht. Small tables were set up to accommodate all the players, since only four could play at a time. The high cleric directed them to their places, then explained that each game’s winner would progress up to the head table, while the loser would move down. Clearly, he wanted them to mingle and get to know each other—and he intended to do the same, since he’d set up an extra table. He recruited some clerics to play with them, and a few other clerics took seats in the corners of the room. Amryn wasn’t sure why they lingered; they just talked amongst themselves and watched as the high cleric directed everyone to their seats.

Servaht was a game of luck more than strategy, and Amryn wasn’t very lucky. The only positive was that Carver’s cards were unerringly good, and he was able to bluff well. So while they started at the same table, he quickly advanced to play with the other winners, until the space of the whole room separated them.

Amryn currently played with Samuel, Darrin, and Cora. Samuel shuffled the deck, and cards were drawn. After the requisite four turns, in which they could choose to keep their cards or exchange for new ones, Cora spread out a winning set.

Darrin groaned. “You’re a lucky woman.”

Cora felt a sharp pang at his words, and her lips pressed together.

Darrin seemed to remember that Cora’s brother had been killed in front of her yesterday. Unease filtered from him, and he cleared his throat.

Samuel shuffled the cards and Darrin chatted with him.

Cora’s pain and grief was overwhelming. Amryn reached for her without thought, setting a hand on her arm.

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