Dinner was a long affair. There were multiple courses, and while Amryn had gotten used to some of the fare, since it had been served in Esperance, there were many southern dishes she was unfamiliar with. Rice with a spicy sauce that singed her tongue. Thinly sliced meats that rioted with flavor. Cubed fruit that was overly tart. Flat bread seasoned with unusual spices. None of it was bad, just different.
Jayveh was constantly locked in conversations with those around her, but she sent Amryn several grateful smiles throughout the meal. Her friend remained shaken after the latest attempt on her life, though most of her concern had been for Amryn.
She could admit her arm was beginning to throb, but she refused to leave before the meal was done. Especially not with Lisbeth and Rhone sitting nearby. While the knight had seemed to mostly ignore her, the female cleric had already looked her way several times during the meal. There was no denying the chill that bled through Amryn any time Lisbeth’s eyes fell on her. The cleric had never directly spoken to Amryn, and yet there was a strange sense of knowing in the woman’s eyes. It was unsettling, and it made her all the more grateful to have Carver at her side. He handled most of the conversations aimed their way, and beneath the table his hand rested on her knee, his thumb tracing gentle circles.
My fierce harpy.
Something deep inside her thrilled at the knowledge that he saw her that way. As fierce. Ashis.
When the meal finally ended, the emperor and Jayveh were the first to leave. It was the silent cue others had been waiting for. While the music kept playing and many remained at the tables, talking and laughing as they sipped coffee or wine, most of the nobles made their way out. When Carver asked if she was ready to leave, she was quick to nod.
Once they’d made their way through the busier halls and were alone in a long corridor, he asked, “How is your arm feeling?”
“It hurts,” she admitted.
His lips pressed into a line. “I’m sorry.”
“Sleep will help,” she assured him. When his guilt and worry lingered, she decided to distract him. “I met Berron tonight.”
Carver shot her a look. “You did?”
She proceeded to tell him about her encounter with his brother.
Carver did not look pleased by the end. “I’m sorry he was rude to you.”
“He’s hurting,” Amryn said, lifting one shoulder in a half shrug.
“That doesn’t give him the right to treat you badly or make you uncomfortable.”
“He didn’t offend me in any way.” Her lips pursed. “Well, I didn’t like how he talked about you.”
Carver grunted. “He hates me.”
Amryn said nothing to that. She feared Berron actuallymighthate his brother. At the very least, he was jealous and bitter. “I met Chancellor Janson as well. He came looking for Berron.”
“Oh? What were your impressions of him?”
She thought back on their brief interaction. “He was kind. Berron actually deferred to him, which surprised me. I think he respects him.” She went on to tell Carver about the dedication she’d felt in him to end thesonnetrade. “His reason for hating the drug felt deeply personal,” she added. Then she shared her observations about Kulver.
Carver’s mood darkened a bit, but when she finished, he surprised her by asking about her impressions of Jamir.
Amryn hadn’t thought much about Jayveh’s uncle since leaving the prison earlier that day, but she told Carver what she could remember about the man’s emotions.
When she’d finished, Carver asked, “Could you tell if he was lying about Berron and Rix?”
She frowned. “It can be hard to tell if someone’s lying, especially if they’re feeling a lot, since the other emotions can cover the guilt. Jamir’s strongest emotions in that moment were desperation and fear. My guess is, he was willing to tell any lie to take our attention off him, even if only for a little while.”
“Does it bother you?” Carver asked suddenly. “That I’m asking for your . . . impressions?”
He spoke guardedly, even though they were alone. This wing of the palace was so quiet, she wondered if every room they passed was deserted.
“No,” she said softly, choosing her own words with care. “Rix often asked for my opinion about people in Torin’s court.”
Carver glanced over at her. The light from the nearest glowing lamp revealed the seriousness in his eyes as he said, “I value your opinion, Amryn. And not just because of your gift.”
Her heart melted a little at that. They were walking closely together, but not touching. She stretched out her fingers, letting the tips brush against the back of his hand. “Thank you.”
His knuckles skated against hers in a silent response. Then he told her about his evening—including his encounter with Lisbeth.
