“It’s all right.”
A short silence fell. Carver rubbed the back of his neck. “Let me clean up, and then we can eat.”
“The water for your bath will be cold by now.” She set the journal on the chair and started for the door. “I’ll ask the guard to—”
“No, it’s fine,” Carver broke in. “I’d rather not wait. I can handle a cold bath.” He ran his fingers through his dark hair, his small smile tight with fatigue.
She had no idea how much sleep he’d managed to get since leaving Esperance. He had many responsibilities, and she knew he was shouldering far too much right now. She was also learning he wasn’t particularly good at taking care of himself.
She moved to the chest at the foot of the bed and lifted a bundle of clothes. “Ahmi got these out of your wardrobe. She wanted to air them out a little before you wore them.”
“Thank you.” When he took the folded clothing, his fingers skated over hers.
Warmth radiated through her from that grazing touch.
She knew from the way Carver’s emotions flared that he was just as affected as she was. He took a small step back. “I’ll just be a moment,” he murmured.
She watched him enter the bathing chamber and nudge the door closed with his heel. She still heard the rustle of clothing, the sound oddly hypnotic. A muted splash soon followed, along with lapping water. The soft rasp of cloth dragged against skin.
Cheeks heating, Amryn turned—and was faced with the single large bed that dominated the room. Her pulse tripped. For the first time, she truly realized that there was no separate sitting room, like there had been in Esperance. There wasn’t even a settee. Which meant they would be sharing a bed tonight.
The revelation shouldn’t feel so monumental. After all, they’d been sleeping side by side in the small tent they’d shared. And yet, this felt utterly different. More real. Like they were actually married.
Sudden nerves fluttered in her stomach, but there was also an unexpected thrill. Shewantedto share a bed with Carver, she realized. She wanted to fall asleep beside him, and wake with him, too. She craved the nearness, even if she wasn’t ready for anything more quite yet. The heat in their kisses was undeniable, and she’d felt his desire for her many times, but things still felt tentative between them. They’d been married for over three months now, but the trust they’d built was newer.
It was a relief to know Carver would never pressure her. From the very beginning, he had always been respectful. He had given her the bedroom at Esperance, and he’d never made her feel uncomfortable—or expected the physical intimacy shared between a husband and wife. Not for the first time, she was utterly grateful that Carver Vincetti was her husband. She could not imagine ever trusting another man with her secrets, her heart, or her body.
All too aware of the muted sounds that drifted from the washroom, Amryn tried to busy herself by tucking away Von’s journal. Then she wandered to the large bookshelf in the corner. She’d noticed it in her initial look at the room, but now she took the time to study the book titles. Most had to do with military history or strategy, but she found a couple of fictional works as well. Her lips curved when she recognized a familiar children’s book. The same adventure novel sat on one of hershelves at home, equally tattered. The fact that she and Carver had both read about the orphaned boy from Vadir who went on adventures fighting pirates—only to learn he was a long-lost prince—made her chest warm.
She studied the clutter on the shelves. The seashells he’d collected, and the jar of white sand that she imagined had come from a beach in Westmont. A dented dagger she was curious to learn the history of. There was also a carved wooden panther, the sleek body polished until it gleamed. The stack of drawings she’d glimpsed earlier were indeed signed by some of his younger siblings, just as she’d suspected. She had just replaced the stack of them carefully on the shelf when she sensed Carver watching her.
Turning, she found him leaning against the doorframe of the washroom. His dark hair was wet, the ends curling over his brow. He wore dark breeches and a loose gray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, baring his tanned forearms. His feet were bare. His clean scent filled her lungs, his unique blend of spice and sandalwood drifting in the air between them.
Amryn felt like she’d been caught snooping. Because she had been. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched anything—”
“Everything I have is yours.”
The words were so simple, and yet they still had the power to stun her.
Carver didn’t wait for her to recover from them. “Are you ready to eat?” he asked.
She managed a nod, and he pushed off the doorframe to make his way over to the table. He held out a chair for her, which she took with murmured thanks.
Carver sat across from her, and Amryn plucked up a slice of thick brown bread. Slathering it with butter gave her hands something to do. Her stomach still felt too knotted to eat.
Carver had also grabbed a slice of bread, but he didn’t bother with the butter or any of the assorted jams. He just tore off a piece and popped it in his mouth. She could feel the sharp bite of his hunger. It made her wonder if he’d eaten anything since this morning. “I think I’ve got a good excuse worked out so we can leave,” he said, breaking off another piece of bread and popping it in his mouth. After swallowing, he outlined his conversation with his father, including the fact that Harvarian militants were attacking Westmont’s outposts along the shared border.
Amryn sensed the sharp edge of his anxiety. “Is Westmont in danger?” she asked.
“No. The skirmishes are small. But I think I can convince the emperor that my experience fighting in Harvari will make me particularly suited to overseeing the border’s security.” His lips pursed. “With my reputation, just being at the bordershould intimidate them enough that they’ll think twice before attacking. Something that will be especially important once word reaches Harvari about what happened in Esperance. They might be emboldened by the Rising’s success.”
Her stomach squirmed at how easily that could become reality. “Will you talk to the emperor tomorrow, then?”
He nodded, chewing another bite of the yeasty bread. “And I’m sure my father will support my request.” That was good news, yet unease niggled in Carver.
In response, apprehension rippled through her. “Is something wrong?”
Carver sighed. “There are some complications.”
