Page 78 of Esperance

Tingles broke out over her skin, lifting the hair on her arms and starting a flutter in her stomach. She could feel his gaze like a caress, his emotions edged with undeniable attraction. Unwanted heat bloomed in her cheeks, and she silently cursed the fact that her fair skin would do nothing to hide a blush.

She stubbornly kept her eyes closed, even though he had to know she was awake. He didn’t say anything or tease her, like she might have expected from him. Instead, he shifted on the bed, making the mattress dip as he left it. He padded on bare feet to the door, then quietly eased from the room.

He hadn’t been gone long, giving her just enough time to gather her composure. He hadn’t mentioned the awkward moment when he returned with a glass of water. He also hadn’t slept in the bed again, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

Today was their first day back to a somewhat normal routine, and the hawk-like stare Carver had given her when the women and men had separated for lessons was, well . . .

Her cheeks warmed and she mentally shook herself. She shouldn’t want to be back in her room with him seated beside her, talking in that strong, level voice as he told her story after story about his siblings and their growing-up antics—anything to distract her from the pain, and then the boredom. She shouldn’t crave his undivided attention as he asked her about her life in Ferradin, and she definitely shouldn’t still thrill at the way he’d looked at her when she told him about her music—as if by revealing the fact she played the cello, she’d given him something of infinite importance.

She needed to focus on her mission. Which was why she was here, finally coming to claim the message the rebels had left her.

She’d just come from her lesson with the other women, where a female cleric had spent the last couple of hours telling them the important role they would all play in the empire, as women on the first Craethen Council. She told them they needed to emulate many of the female saints in the church, if they wished to succeed. It was a mixture of history and lecturing that was hard to pay attention to.

Especially when her thoughts kept returning to Carver.

After the lecture, they had a little time before they needed to go to the afternoon council meeting Trevill mediated, so Amryn had slipped away from the others to visit the library.

And she needed to focus, because she didn’t have much time.

As she riffled through the pages, searching for the message the rebels had left for her, she almost wished she wouldn’t find it. That errant thought alarmed her, because so many people were counting on her—Rix, Torin, the Rising, and all those who suffered under the emperor’s rule. She couldn’t afford to become distracted, or doubt herself—or get caught up in the way Carver made her feel.

A piece of folded parchment lifted with a turned page, and even though she’d known it would be there, Amryn’s heart kicked in her chest. She lifted the note free and opened it.

The Rising had nothing to do with poisoning the tea, or Cora’s death. Someone else is at work here. Learn what details you can about the investigation—anything Argent, Jayveh, or Carver might know. Relay your findings to me.

Be careful.

She folded the note and pushed it into her pocket, her thoughts racing. The fact that her rebel contact was desperate to know anything Amryn could learn about the investigation made her think the Rising truly wasn’t behind Cora’s death, or the poisoning. It also didn’t make any sense for the Rising to poison all the women, when Amryn was on their side.

“Back to that one, are you?”

Amryn jumped, her hands tightening on the book.

The cleric she’d first met in the library—Felinus—was standing there, and his eyes twinkled with humor. “Sorry to startle you.”

“That’s all right. I was lost in my thoughts.”

He nodded toward the book. “Zerrif has never had such a staunch admirer.”

Amryn forced a smile, though her pulse still skipped at his unexpected appearance. “I’m intrigued by his stories.”

Felinus huffed a laugh. “Well, that’s not something I’ve heard before. If you’re so fond of him, you can take that tome to your room. It won’t be missed, I assure you.”

“Thank you, but no.”

“Ah. Worried you couldn’t carry it up the stairs?”

That caught a laugh from her still-tender throat. “No, it’s just . . . I like reading in here. It’s peaceful.”

“It is that.” The cleric folded his arms, which made his brown robe billow. His gaze swept the towering shelves around them. “There is an unrivaled peace in a library. Surrounded by words, but enfolded in silence. Knowing that stories lie dormant on the shelves, but a little time with you and they would come alive.” He quirked a smile. “There’s a reason I wanted to work in the largest library in Craethen.”

“You could have been a poet.”

“You flatter me.” His expression shifted, and concern wafted from him. “Are you feeling recovered?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’m glad.” He took a small step back. “I can leave you to your studies; I simply wanted to check in with you.”

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