Amryn could see in his eyes that hedidknow it. Just as she could feel that he blamed himself anyway. “I know I didn’t know Argent very long,” she said softly. “But I felt how much he loved you, Carver. He would hate that you’re shouldering this guilt when it isn’t yours to carry.” She cupped his shadowed jaw. “Honor him by forgiving yourself.”
His throat flexed as he swallowed. “I’ll try.”
She knew it wouldn’t happen in an instant. Knew he’d have to remind himself to let the guilt go. But she’d be there to help him. “Were you able to get any sleep last night?” she asked.
His lips quirked. “Well, my wife kept me up for a while . . .”
Her cheeks warmed, but her smile was unstoppable.
Carver’s grip on her flexed, his hands strong but his hold gentle. “I fell asleep soon after you did. I can’t remember the last time I was able to sleep after a nightmare like that.” Wonder filled him as his eyes met hers. “It’s because of you.”
The words were surprising, humbling, and thrilling.
She realized she was absently skimming the pads of her fingers across a rough scar on his chest. It was located far too close to his heart.
“I got that when Ford came to rescue me,” Carver said softly.
She sensed his reticence to talk about it—as well as a wave of resolve that assured her he was about to anyway—so she reached out and tapped the tip of one finger against the small, pale scar on his chin. “Tell me about this one.”
He frowned in brief confusion. Then realization hit, and gratitude swept over him as he cracked a smile. “One of my worst battle scars,” he teased dryly. “Are you sure you want to hear the grisly tale?”
“If you want to tell it.”
He tugged her until she was once again lying against his side. Only this time, she rested her cheek on his bicep, so she could see his profile. “I was eleven,” he said. “It was a particularly hot summer day and I was drenched in sweat after my daily weapons training. Berron was with me, and the moment our grandfather dismissedus, we decided to cool off in the ocean. We were playing around in the waves, not really paying attention to how far out we’d gone. We got caught in a current. It started dragging us out to sea. I knew we were in trouble. We were good swimmers, but a current like that can easily drown the strongest of men, let alone two tired boys.”
Amryn wasn’t breathing.
Carver noticed and gave her a gentle squeeze. “I survived,” he reminded her.
“How?”
He chuckled. “A lot of luck and a little skill. Our father taught us well, so we knew what to do. We didn’t fight against the current, just rode it until it weakened enough for us to break free. Berron was scared and exhausted, so I swam us both parallel to the shore until I knew it would be safe to make our way back to the beach. It must have been a couple of miles, all told.”
Her eyes rounded. “You were eleven.”
“Yes.”
Amazement—and pride—filled her. “You’ve always been a hero, then.”
A bit of color touched his cheeks. “I wasn’t heroic. I was the idiot who got us caught by the current in the first place. I should have been paying more attention.”
She shook her head. “You were a child, and you saved your brother’s life—and your own. That’s heroic.”
“I promise I didn’t look like a hero by the time we made it to shore. I was shaking all over, and I could barely see where I was going because my vision kept hazing. I swam right into a rock barely hidden by the waves—which is how I got this,” he said, pointing to the pale scar. “Then, when I finally hauled us both onto the sand, I immediately started vomiting. As soon as I started, Berron did as well. That’s how our father found us. Drenched, doubled over and retching our guts out. He was probably disgusted—definitely livid—and very grateful we hadn’t managed to drown ourselves. Or get eaten by a shark.”
Her stomach dropped. “There weresharksin the water?”
His lips twitched. “It’s the ocean, sweetheart. Of course there were sharks.”
She gaped. “Your mother let you swim in shark-infested waters?”
“Well, she didn’t always know we were swimming there, but yes. She loves swimming in the ocean, too.”
Amryn stared. She couldn’t imagine Alora Vincetti swimming in the ocean—let alone amongsharks.
“Don’t worry,” Carver said, rubbing her arm. “When we go, I’ll protect you from the sharks.”
Her eyes flew wide. “I am not swimming in the ocean, Carver.Ever.”
