There was an expectant pause, like Amryn assumed he’d say more. Or hoped he would. When he didn’t, she quietly shifted away. She returned the vial of ointment to her bag and lay down on her bedroll.
He got settled as well, his chest feeling too tight as he watched her pull her blanket into place.
“Goodnight, Carver,” she whispered.
He knew she was going to roll away from him. Before she could, he reached out and took her hand.
She froze.
His thumb grazed over the delicate skin of her inner wrist, and then he gently squeezed her hand. “Goodnight, Amryn,” he whispered.
Silence, but for the soft sounds of their breathing in the darkened tent. Then her fingers moved around his, and something in his chest loosened as she squeezed back.
Chapter 5
Amryn
Rainpoundedthecarriageroof, a relentless barrage of sound that drowned out nearly everything else. Amryn’s head ached with the constant noise. It had been raining for two days straight. But at least she had the protection of the carriage. Carver, Ivan, and the guards were on horseback, protected only by cloaks. Everyone was miserable—which certainly didn’t help her mood since she felt all oftheirmisery. She also sensed Carver’s mounting frustration, which was echoed by Jayveh.
The muddy roads and unrelenting deluge were slowing them down.
Still, Carver had assured them over a hastily eaten breakfast that they should be free of the jungle in another two days. Once on the more maintained roads, they’d be able to make better time.
As much as Amryn dreaded arriving at the imperial palace in Zagrev, she was looking forward to being free of this carriage. Tendrils of hair that had come loose from her braided crown stuck to her sweaty skin. She was sweltering. The rain didn’t allow them to tie back the canvas flaps that covered the windows, so the already humid jungle air was even more stifling in the carriage. She felt isolated from the world. Jayveh was seated on the cushioned bench beside her, but the cacophony of the rain made it nearly impossible to have any real conversation. Ahmi and Mira—their maids—sat across from them, alternating between dozing or doing somequiet sewing.
Amryn couldn’t sleep, and she had nothing to distract her from her thoughts. She fiddled with her mother’s old prayer coin, which was tucked safely in her pocket, and she thought far too much about Carver.
His nightmare two nights ago had shaken him. And, if she was being honest, it had shaken her. He’d felt so many emotions, all flashing so rapidly she’d only managed to identify the most cutting ones. His pain. His terror. And his desperation to shut her out. When she’d suggested talking about his nightmares might help, his answer had been spoken with dark and uncompromising force:“No.”
It had hurt. Especially because she’d sensed that he never intended to talk to her about the things that haunted him. The very thought of opening up to her had made him feel sick. That stung, especially after all Amryn had shared with him.
She was trying not to take it personally. She’d felt his excruciating vulnerability. She knew his defenses had reared up because he’d needed them. Pushing her away had been a natural reaction to feeling so exposed. Truthfully, it had nothing to do with her. It had been an act of pure self-preservation on his part.
She could only imagine what he’d witnessed on the battlefields in Harvari. War was a horrific thing even in the abstract, but toliveit? It was no wonder Carver had scars, both emotional and physical. She knew each mark on his body told a painful story. The brutal scarring above his heart. The pale lines on his arms. The lash marks that marred his back.
Her stomach dipped, nausea rising. Those hadn’t come from a fight. She’d had the thought before, but hadn’t really—
Another uneasy swirl in her gut made her realize the nausea wasn’t entirely her own.
Jayveh was sitting on the cushioned bench beside her, face drawn and mouth pressed in a tight line. One hand rested on her belly while the other was braced against the carriage seat between them.
Amryn’s stomach pitched again. “Do you need to stop for a break?” she asked, speaking loudly enough that she could be heard over the storm.
“No,” Jayveh said. “I’m fine.”
Amryn gave her a look.
The princess sighed. “I’ve been feeling a bit sick all morning,” she confessed. “At first, I thought it was the endless rocking of the carriage, but I’m beginning to think it’s morning sickness.” She gently rubbed her belly. “It isn’t pleasant, but honestly, I’m relieved. If I’m feeling the effects of the pregnancy, it means the baby is truly all right.” The skin around her eyes tightened. “A miracle, all things considered.”
Amryn instinctively reached out with her empathic sense, gently probing the small male presence that lived inside Jayveh. Assurance filled her. “He’s strong and healthy.”
“He?”
Amryn froze, but only for a split second. She forced a smile. “Just a guess.”
Jayveh’s fingers spread over her stomach. Her voice was soft, nearly lost to the pounding rain as she said, “Argent guessed the same. But I think it was more of a wish. He wanted a boy first, because he said he’d need all the help he could get protecting any daughters we’d have.” Her words were soft, but the cut of her grief was painfully sharp.
Amryn reached across the space between them and took Jayveh’s hand, squeezing gently. “Jayveh, I—”
