“Unnatural.”
Carver cringed at Rhone’s voice in his head.
Ignoring the dried blood on his body, he crossed to the wardrobe and found a clean shirt to shrug on. He’d wash later, after Amryn was done. For now, he just wanted to cover his itching skin.
If only he could hide his fear and frustration so easily. They’d only seemed to build over the last few hours, twisting into something sharp and jagged in his chest. He kept waiting for the tension of the battle to release him, but it hadn’t. Maybe because it felt like he was still braced for a fight.
He kept feeling the knife stab into his gut. Another shoving into his back. His hands shook. The pain and the panic were still there. Knowing the only way to protect Amryn was to cover her body with his own, even though it was going to kill him. He’d thought he was going to die. He would have, if not for Amryn’s magic.
Soft murmuring voices floated through the closed door of the bathing chamber.
He had no idea how long he stood there listening to those low voices, but the knock on the outer door made him jerk. He nearly reached for his knife, but one of the guards outside announced the physician. It was the same man who’d attended Amryn after she’d been grazed by the crossbow bolt meant for Jayveh.
Saints, Carver was doing a horrible job keeping his wife safe. She’d nearly died today. He’d nearly been too late to save her. The helplessness that burned through him only served to fuel the furious tangle of emotions building inside him.
Ahmi and Amryn emerged from the bathing chamber. Amryn looked too pale. She still had the bloodstained bandage wrapped low around her neck, but she was in a clean dress and her braid had been undone, leaving her hair loose and flowing over her shoulders. The bruising on her cheek had worsened even in the short time they’d been apart.
The physician directed her to one of the overstuffed chairs and he tutted as he unwrapped the bandage. He cared for her gently, and when he was done and gone, Ahmi settled Amryn in the large bed and promised to return with food.
When the door clicked shut behind the maid, they were finally alone.
Amryn eyed Carver, her smooth expression impossible to decipher. It was a mask. That she was wearing it here, when it was just the two of them, was horribly irritating.
The strain that had existed between them since she’d healed him was suddenly unbearable. His voice was low. A little too hard, because he’d feared it would come out thin. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Her expression didn’t alter. “You were dying.”
Yes, and she’d saved him. Risking herself in the process and enduring a pain he’d never wanted her to feel. He still couldn’t believe the risks she’d taken. And she didn’t seem concerned about what she’d done. It was maddening. Infuriating, even, because it meant she might do something reckless again.
Her eyes narrowed, fracturing her reserved mask. “You’re angry.” It wasn’t a question, because sheknewhe was angry. She couldfeelit. He was the one in the dark here. Except, her tone had just enough of a bladed edge to make it sound like he had norightto be angry. Thatshewas the only one with that right.
His own eyes narrowed. “What by all the Saints were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I’d save your life.”
Irrational fury roared through him. “You could have gotten yourself killed. Rhone was there. Saints, a thousand people were there, but you still healed me. That was stupid, Amryn.”
Her green eyes flashed.
But he wasn’t done. “You used the bloodstone, even though you know it’s dangerous. When youpromisedme you’d never use it like that again. But you didn’t even hesitate. You have no idea what that thing is capable of, or what it might take from you. And you used it anyway.”
Her nostrils flared, color rising on her cheeks as her jaw tensed. She threw off her covers, failing to hide a wince as she shoved off the bed. She snatched up her pillow and strode past him, her back ramrod straight as she marched for the door.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“I’m not staying here with you,” she snapped, not even looking back at him.
Something in his chest cracked. He tried to ignore it as he ground his teeth together. “Does your life really mean so little to you? That you’d risk yourself so blatantly?”
She spun on him, throwing the pillow at his head.
The attack caught him off guard, but he instinctively ducked. The pillow sailed over his head, barely missing him.
Amryn darted to the bed and snatched up another pillow, but Carver was done. He strode forward, and before she could throw the second pillow, he’d taken hold of it, too.
She yanked it toward her chest, but since he didn’t let go—and his feet were firmly planted—the motion only dragged her closerto him.
She released an infuriated snarl and shoved the pillow into his chest. He swore he saw a flicker of hurt before her light green eyes shielded. She turned for the door once more.
