Amryn was grateful Ahmi would be accompanying them to the capital. She’d truly been blessed when Ahmi had been assigned to be her maid. Her soothing nature and gentle friendship had been an unexpected but wonderful comfort in Esperance.
After they’d gathered the last essentials, Ahmi left to take the bag down to the waiting carriages. Amryn saw the light breakfast that had been set up in the sittingroom, but she stepped past it. She couldn’t see Carver, but she could feel him. His emotions had become so familiar to her, it was easy to follow the pull that led her onto the balcony.
Carver stood near the carved stone railing. He was gazing out at the pre-dawn sky, the gray light casting strange shadows over the temple compound and the wild jungle that sprawled on the other side of Esperance’s solid walls. Mist clung to the distant mountains and hovered over the emerald hues of the jungle, making it impossible to see much of anything in the thick foliage. Insects buzzed, birds chirped, and monkeys chattered. All foreign sounds that Amryn had become accustomed to while living at the temple. Dark smells teased her nose; moist soil, thriving plant life, and the unmistakable musk of underlying decay. As much as the jungle lived and breathed, there were undertones of death in every breath. A dark reminder of the danger that waited outside the temple walls.
Carver didn’t seem aware of her yet. His eyes were fixed pointedly on the trees that hemmed them in. His back was braced against one of the decorative pillars on the side of the balcony, and he held a steaming mug in one hand. The pungent smell made her nose wrinkle. She had no idea how he drank that bitter brown liquid every day. Coffee, she’d learned with one sip, was utterly disgusting.
A warm breeze rustled his dark hair. Even in profile, he was distractingly handsome. His hair fell over his brow, and she knew from experience how soft the strands felt between her fingers. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, and his arms strong. Every part of him was sculpted with muscle. The body of a warrior.
He was her opposite in nearly every way. She was an empath who could not stomach violence, while he had trained from childhood to be a soldier. His bronzed skin marked him from Westmont, a southern coastal region, while she would always be pale—or sunburned—due to her birth in the northern mountains of Ferradin. And yet, standing there in dawn’s soft light, it was difficult to look away from him. Especially because—for once—he was unguarded. A slight frown turned down the corners of his lips, his brow slightly furrowed. His exhaustion ran deep and was multilayered with grief and uncertainty.
“Did you get any sleep?” she asked softly.
He straightened, gripping his mug as he twisted to look at her. His expression smoothed as his blue eyes took her in, as if a knot inside him was loosened just by seeing her. “Some,” he said. “But I’m used to operating on little sleep.” The shadowed undertone in his voice made it clear he was thinking of his insomnia and the nightmares that stalked him.
She moved to stand beside him. “You might be used to it, but that doesn’t mean it’s good for you. What if you fall off your horse?”
“I won’t.” He raised his mug, the silver ring he always wore catching in the soft light. “This is why coffee exists.”
A huff escaped her. “That awful brew is disgusting.”
He chuckled. “I love how much you hate it.”
“It’s vile,” she insisted.
“You’re just not used to it yet.”
“There is noyet. I’m never drinking it again. I think it might be literal poison.”
Carver’s lips twitched. He took a long sip from his mug, his eyes going back to the jungle.
Silence grew between them, but it was the peaceful kind. Amryn couldn’t help but be amazed by that fact. At the beginning of all this, she never would have imagined she’d ever feel at ease around Carver. They should have been enemies, and yet—somehow—they had ended up here.
It made her oddly wistful as she remembered everything she’d experienced in this temple. Many of the events had been terrifying, but wonderful things had happened, too. All the late nights she’d spent with Carver when he couldn’t sleep, the two of them just talking. The attentive way his eyes had always seemed to track her across a room. The fragile trust that had built between them, one day at a time. Their first touches. Their first kiss.
Suddenly, the thought of leaving Esperance made her chest tighten.
“What are you thinking?” Carver asked softly.
Startled, she met his gaze. “What?”
He lifted a hand, and her breath caught when the tip of one calloused finger brushed the corner of her lips. “You’re frowning. I want to know why.”
Her pulse raced from his casual touch, and she wasn’t sure she was even breathing. She had no defenses when it came to him. She couldn’t decide if that was embarrassing, dangerous, or thrilling. Perhaps it was all three.
Her cheeks warmed, because she was painfully aware of Carver’s growing concern as her silence lengthened. She cleared her throat. “I was thinking about us.”
He stilled, his face going neutral even as anxiety spiked inside him. “And that upset you?”
“No,” she said at once. “The opposite.” When he frowned, she tried to put her thoughts into words. “I didn’t want to come here. I was nervous about helping theRising. Terrified of being so far from home. Esperance felt like a prison of sorts. Especially when I realized I’d be marrying you.”
Carver’s dark brows pulled together. “If this is supposed to reassure me, I have to say it’s not working.”
She cracked a smile, even as she shook her head. “You made all the difference, Carver. You made this place feel safe. So much so, that now I don’t want to leave. You made Esperance become a haven.”
A thrill shot through him. His eyes—locked on her—softened. “I feel the same.”
“You do?”
