Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

The urge came again, the one that goaded me to turn and take flight, knowing that he would chase. But it was more. I wanted that. Him to chase.

The colors of his eyes were moving again, the stars brightening. Shadows formed in the sudden hollows of his cheeks, and it could have been my imagination, but I thought he wanted to give chase.

All of that sounded . . . insane to me. I didn’t want to be chased or . . . or captured by anyone, especially not a prince.

Trembling, I held myself completely still. When I spoke, I barely recognized my voice. “I asked why you cared?”

Prince Thorne didn’t respond for a long moment, and then he inhaled deeply, the tension leaking from his body and . . . and then mine. “Why would I care about some lowborn girl who pretends at being a courtesan— ”

“I’m not a girl,” I interrupted, irritated by him— by me. “And that is something you should be well aware of.”

“You are correct.” His gaze swept over me in a languid perusal, and the right side of his lips curved up. “My apologies.”

I stiffened at the low, sultry drawl. “That sounded more like innuendo than an apology.”

“Probably because the flush in your cheeks when perturbed reminds me of the same flush of when you come,” he said, and my mouth dropped open. “I would apologize for that also, but I have a feeling that too would sound like an innuendo.”

“Oh my gods,” I hissed. “You are . . .”

“What?” The colors of his eyes were churning again. “Captivating to you? I know. There’s no need to tell me.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

“Whatever you say, na’laa,” he murmured.

My hands curled into fists.

His faint grin faded as he glanced at the terrace doors. A moment passed. “You asked why I care?” His brows knitted. “There is this . . . feeling that I know you. It’s this strange sensation that we’ve met before.”

The words we have crept up my throat, but I couldn’t get them past my lips. The want for him to know that we had battled with the warning that doing so could be a mistake. I froze in confusion, not understanding either response.

“Other than that?” The line of his jaw tensed. “I really don’t know. You shouldn’t matter.”

I blinked. “Wow.”

“You misunderstand.”

The Prince wasn’t the only one feeling strange sensations. Currently, there was something akin to the sting of . . . of rejection burning at my insides. “No, I think that was pretty clear.”

He turned to me. “I don’t mean that personally, Calista.”

I shivered at the sound of my name.

He tilted his head, seeming to catch that response. “I am a Deminyen. Do you understand what that means?”

“Uh, that you are a very powerful Hyhborn?”

A low, dark laugh left him. “It means that I am the furthest thing from a mortal— from humanity— you can get. I care about mankind as a whole, but that is only because of what I am. How I was created.”

“Created?” I whispered.

His stare held mine. “Deminyens are not born like the caelestia.”

“I know.” Something struck me then as I stared at him. “You were— ” I stopped myself from saying he’d appeared a little younger when we first met. He had appeared younger to me then in comparison to Lord Samriel, but his features hadn’t really changed in the twelve years since. “What are you saying? That you cannot feel compassion or caring?”

“Some Deminyens can. Lords and ladies, if they choose to do so.”

“But not you?” I looked him over. “Or not princes and princesses? The King?”

“Not us.”

“Because you’re more powerful?”

“It’s more . . . complicated than that, but yes.”

My forehead creased. “From what I know of you, I don’t believe that you’re incapable of such.”

“I thought we didn’t know each other at all.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I know enough about you to believe that.”

The Prince stared at me in silence before murmuring, “Precious.”

“What is?”

“You.”

Crossing my arms, I rolled my eyes. “Okay. Whatever— ”

“I’ve shown you compassion, na’laa. That doesn’t mean I am a compassionate being.”

Little of that statement made sense to me. “I think you’re wrong.”

“Really?” That tight smile resurfaced. “And why do you think this?”

“Because you said you would’ve been disappointed if you had destroyed Archwood,” I pointed out. “And it’s not like our city represents all of mankind.”

“And I also said that wouldn’t have stopped me from doing so.”

My stomach dipped. “Yes, but you also said that you thought turning a soul into a Rae was unfair. If you were incapable of feeling compassion, wouldn’t you also be incapable of feeling remorse or guilt or even fairness?”

Prince Thorne opened his mouth, but he said nothing as he stared at me. Seconds ticked by, and I thought . . . I thought he paled a little.

“You’re right,” he said hoarsely.

Then he turned and left the chambers without saying another word, leaving me to wonder why the idea of him having compassion would cause him such obvious unease.



Prince Thorne’s strange response to the idea that he had compassion lingered with me throughout the day, but as the evening neared, my confusion was replaced by anxiety.

As I walked into the bathing chamber, I thought I really should’ve mentioned the dinner to the Prince when he’d been here. I turned the water on in the sink, dipped my head, and splashed cool water over my face.

Grabbing a towel, I patted my face dry as I lifted my chin and began to turn. I stopped, something in the mirror snagging my attention. My hand lowered to the rim of the vanity as I leaned in closer. My eyes . . . they didn’t look right.

They were mostly brown.

“What the hell?” I leaned in closer to the mirror. The inner part closest to the pupil was a . . . shade of pale blue, and that wasn’t normal at all.

Slamming my eyes shut, I felt my breathing pick up. It had to be the light in the bathing chamber or . . . my mind playing tricks on me. There was no other logical reason for my eyes to suddenly change color. I had to be seeing things.

I just needed to open them to prove that.

My heart fluttered like a caged bird. “Stop being ridiculous,” I scolded myself. “Your eyes didn’t change colors.”

A knock on the chamber doors startled me. It had to be Hymel, and knowing him, he would be impatient as usual, but my heart still pounded. Forcing a deep breath into my lungs, I opened my eyes and leaned in close to the mirror.

My eyes . . . they were indeed brown. Just plain old brown.

The knock came again, this time louder. Tossing the towel into the basin, I hurried to the chamber doors.

“The Baron Huntington has requested your presence,” Hymel announced.

My stomach toppled so fast that it was a wonder I didn’t vomit all over Hymel’s polished boots.

I was expecting this, and still, anxiety surged through me as I joined Hymel in the hall.

Hymel looked at me as we walked, his stare challenging. “You going to tell my cousin about earlier?”

“Are you worried?” I countered, instead of ignoring him as I normally would.

The man laughed, but it sounded forced. “No.”

I rolled my eyes.

Hymel was silent until we neared Maven’s chambers. “I wouldn’t say anything about it if I were you,” he said, staring straight ahead. “You cause me problems— ”

“You’ll cause me problems?” I finished for him. Gods, Hymel was a walking cliché.

“No.” Stopping at Maven’s door, he faced me. “I’ll cause your beloved Grady to have very significant issues.”

My head whipped toward him as my heart lurched.

Hymel smirked, pushing open the rounded wooden door. “Don’t take too long.”