Carver stood nearby with one shoulder propped against the doorframe. His hands were in his pockets, a soft look on his face. She had no idea how long he’d been watching them. “Am I ever going to get my wife back?” he asked.
“No,” Wren said, grinning.
“She’s ours now,” Fowler added.
Carver huffed, but there was a faint smile on his lips as he moved to sit beside Amryn. They didn’t touch, but he was close enough she could feel the warmth of his body. He reached out to scratch behind Cove’s ears. Since the dog was still in Amryn’s lap, that meant Carver leaned even closer to her.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Fowler stopped rummaging in his box to look up at his older brother. “This one’s almost full. I’m going to need you to make a new one soon.”
Carver merely nodded.
Amryn blinked. “Youmadethat?” she asked. The wooden box was intricately carved with ocean waves and palm fronds, polished to a beautiful shine. It was carefully detailed and masterfully done.
Wren answered for him, her smile wide as she said, “Yes! Carver is a carver.”
Fowler snickered at the clearly familiar joke.
Carver’s lips twitched. He gently tugged a loose piece of Wren’s hair. “Clever, little bird,” he said dryly.
The twelve-year-old girl only beamed.
Amryn couldn’t stop staring at the carved box, then at the man seated on the floor beside her. “I had no idea you could do that. This is beautiful.”
Self-consciousness bloomed as Carver shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t do it much anymore.”
“He used to make me the best toys,” Fowler said. “He could just carve them out of a block of wood! The horses were my favorite.”
Carver gave his brother a smile, but an unexpected sorrow flickered inside him. Amryn had no idea why, but the feeling was chased away when Elowen’s voice carried across the room.
“Amryn and I are going to Market Street tomorrow.”
“We are?” Amryn asked, even as Carver said, “She is not.”
Elowen waved a flippant hand, barely looking up from her conversation with her parents. “I made the appointment the other day. I’m sure I told you, Amryn.”
She had no idea what Elowen was talking about.
“It’s too dangerous to be wandering the city,” Carver said.
“Wandering the city? Are we vagrants?” Elowen rolled her eyes. “We’re going to see Piera Denvoux. She’s the best dressmaker in the empire, and I only managed to get an appointment with her on such short notice because she adores me.”
Amryn’s brow furrowed. “A dressmaker?”
“Of course! You need something special for the emperor’s ball.” Elowen perked up. “Carver, you should wear your formal Westmont uniform. Amryn would look stunning with a matching deep blue. And the gold touches would be just perfect with her coloring.”
Carver let out a heavy sigh. “Elowen loves designing dresses.” It sounded more like a warning than an actual statement.
“There will be no debate about this,” Elowen told her brother firmly. “Amryn needs a new dress, since I’m certain her wardrobe in Esperance didn’t include something fit for a ball hosted by the emperor. You can insist on a full contingent of guards if you must, but we’re going to that appointment.”
Carver eyed Amryn, keeping his voice low so it remained between them as he asked, “Do you want to go?”
“You said it wouldn’t be safe.”
“I’d make sure you were safe.”
Those words slid over her, sinking beneath her skin. Cheeks heating, she bit her lip then said, “I think I’d like to get out of the palace again. I didn’t realize how much I needed that until today. And I’d like to spend some more time with your sister.”
