Carver wanted to tell his father he wasn’t to blame. It had been Morelli’s pride, and then his fear, that had kept him isolated and vulnerable to Morav’s control. But evenhefelt like he should have noticed something was wrong—or at least recognized the signs of Morelli’s increased stress—so he could only imagine how his father felt.
Morelli had hidden so much behind a quick smile and an easy laugh. Carver had to keep reminding himself that, if nothing else, Morelli had done the right thing in the end. To save Carver’s life, he had essentially given up his own, trading freedom for a cell. It was yet another thing Carver wasn’t sure how to feel about.
“In the end, he chose to protect you,” Amryn whispered one night in their bed. “That’s worth remembering.”
He knew she was right. Just as he knew it would take time to fully process everything that had happened. For now, he needed to focus on getting Amryn safely through the emperor’s ball, and then he could take her away from here.
He was ready to take his wife home.
Chapter 55
Amryn
Ahmitookastepback, a soft smile playing at her lips. “You look beautiful, my lady.”
Amryn glanced at the tall mirror Ahmi had placed against one wall of the suite. Piera Denvoux’s design was undeniably elegant, and the deep, midnight blue gown looked especially bold against her pale skin. The dress was sleeveless, leaving her shoulders and arms bare. The fitted bodice accentuated her narrow waist, with the skirt flaring out at her hips in wide, sweeping folds. Accents of gold were woven throughout the dress, giving an almost glittering effect. According to Elowen, the colors were a perfect echo of Carver’s traditional military dress uniform. It was easily the most beautiful gown Amryn had ever worn.
Ahmi had carefully gathered and pinned Amryn’s long curling locks until they spilled over one shoulder in a flowing cascade, leaving a few crimson tendrils to hang around her face. She’d also artfully applied Amryn’s makeup, lining her eyes with kohl and brushing powder across her eyelids to shadow them. Color had been applied to her lips as well, darkening her natural hue.
It was the night of the emperor’s ball. Nerves sang through her as she thought about the trap they’d set for the Rising. The part she still needed to play, and the betrayal that Bram would surely feel. Despite her anxiety, she was grateful that after tonight, all of this would be behind her.
She was alone in the room with Ahmi. Elowen had insisted that Carver get dressed in the Vincetti family suite down the hall so he could—in her words—getthe full effectof seeing Amryn in her new dress for the first time. Amryn thought the idea was a little silly.
Until Carver walked in.
The moment her eyes fell on him, she could only stare.
His dark hair fell across his brow in effortless waves, longer on top than it was on the sides. Dark stubble traced across his angular jaw, highlighting the perfectly sculpted lines of his face. High cheekbones and long, dark lashes framed his sharp blue eyes. His wide shoulders strained the formal jacket he wore. The midnight blue of the uniform perfectly matched her dress, as did the gold accents that appeared on the edges and along the collar. Beneath the jacket was a matching blue vest with gold buttons, and a white shirt below that opened partially to bare his throat. He wore a dark pair of breeches, tall black boots, and his strong hands were covered with formal black leather gloves. A sword was belted at his hip, though she was certain he had more blades hidden somewhere.
Carver had always been attractive to her, even from the first moment she’d seen him. But now that she knew him—knew the endless depths of his strength, loyalty, and love—she could barely breathe at the sight of him. Carver Vincetti might carry scars, both inside and out, but nothing could ever diminish his beauty in her eyes. And he was hers. The mere thought made her heart race. As did the realization that—the entire time she’d been studying him—he’d been studying her.
His gaze heated as he took in her appearance, and his voice was low and thin as he said, “You’re breathtaking.”
Warmth spread through her. She was aware of Ahmi drifting from the room, but Carver had her complete attention as he slowly walked toward her. As he came closer, the spicy sandalwood scent of his soap hit her, and her knees went a little weak by the time he stopped before her. She was nearly overwhelmed by the fact that the achingly handsome man was her husband.
He reached out, fingering a loose curl that dangled near her temple. “I had no idea seeing you in Westmont’s colors would do this to me.” He scanned her face once more, then shook his head. “How am I supposed to concentrate on anything tonight with you looking like this?”
She didn’t bother to hide her smile. Feeling daring, she touched the small scar on his chin, loving the rough feel of his stubble. “You look breathtaking, too,” she told him.
His lips quirked. “Not sure I’ve ever been called that. But I’m glad you think so.” His hand shifted, moving to rest against the side of her neck. Her pulse thrummedwhen his thumb gently caressed her throat. He tipped his head toward her, his tone dropping as their foreheads touched. “When tonight is over, I want to take out every pin in your hair.”
A thrill shot through her. She couldn’t stop her grin. “I’m not sure you’ll want to go to all that trouble,” she teased. “Ahmi put in quite a few.”
The heat in his eyes flared. “Every. Pin,” he repeated purposefully. “Even if it takes all night.”
She placed her hands against his chest and lifted up on her toes, pressing an impulsive kiss against his lips.
The instant their mouths brushed, his free hand curved around her waist to steady her. Which was good, because while Amryn had initiated this, Carver quickly took over. He deepened the kiss, his fingers tightening against her lower back as he changed the angle. His lips slanted over hers, his head tipping one way while hers instinctively leaned to the other.
The kiss might have started slow and soft, but soon their mingled breaths were coming too fast, and Amryn felt almost dizzy with the combined passion they were feeling.
The passage of time meant little, but eventually Carver groaned and pulled back, even though reluctance pulsed through him. “Saints, are youtryingto undo me?”
Her swollen lips twitched, but the reality of tonight’s dangers pressed in, rekindling nerves that spiked any time she thought about what would happen tonight. If things would go smoothly, like Keats believed, or if there would be a fight—one she and Carver would be caught in the middle of. “I need you to stay focused.” She set her palms against his chest. “I need you to be safe, Carver.”
He sighed and eased back, only to gather her hands between his larger ones. Holding her palms together, he gently pressed his lips to her fingertips. “You’re the one I’m worried about.”
“The rebels won’t be trying to killme.”
