Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

“Please be seated,” Prince Thorne finally said, shattering the silence with his deep voice.

I all but collapsed into my chair as Claude surprisingly took a steadier seat. “It is an honor to have you at my table, Prince Thorne,” he said, and I felt a laugh bubbling up. Honor? He hadn’t sounded honored moments ago, but at least he sounded genuine. “Though, I do hope there will be no need for the armor between the servings of duck and fish.”

Armor? What?

“One can never be too prepared,” Thorne replied.

I peeked up, finding the three Hyhborn seated at the table and the staff in the midst of placing diamond-encrusted plates and glasses before them. The Hyhborn were indeed armored, a fact easily missed with a quick glance. The chest plates were covered in black leather, causing the armor to blend into the sleeveless black tunics beneath. There was something etched into the leather— a sword with a cross handle framed by . . . by wings— wings outlined in thread of gold.

“I was unaware that we would have company,” Prince Thorne stated.

My pulse skittered, and before I could stop myself, my gaze lifted to him. He was, of course, somehow seated directly across from me, and he . . .

Prince Thorne was devastating in the glow of the candles, his hair unbound and resting softly against his cheeks. He didn’t look remotely mortal then. I couldn’t seem to get my throat to work on a swallow as my eyes locked with his. The swirls of colors in his irises were still, but his regard was no less intense and piercing.

“Ah, yes. I figured since you two have already met, you wouldn’t mind her presence,” Claude said, champagne flute once more in hand. “I hope I’m not faulty in my assumption?”

“No.” Prince Thorne smiled, his stare not leaving me as he relaxed into his seat. “I do not mind her presence at all.”

I sank about an inch in my chair.

“In fact,” Prince Thorne continued, “I welcome it.”

My heart gave a strange little skip that I would need to smack myself for later as Claude cocked his head to the side. That terse silence fell again. After a small eternity, the Prince’s gaze shifted away, and I was finally able to swallow before I choked on my own saliva.

“And who may this be?” Prince Thorne asked.

“My cousin Hymel,” Claude answered, placing his flute by his plate. I hoped that glass stayed there. “As the Captain of the Guard, he is an integral part of Archwood Manor and the city.”

“Your Grace.” Hymel bowed his head respectively. “It is a great honor to have you and your men at our table.”

Our table? I barely contained my snort.

Prince Thorne eyed him, the curve of his well-formed lips nothing like the smiles I’d seen him give. His smile was cold. Dispassionate. My skin prickled.

“I don’t believe I’ve been introduced to those accompanying you,” Claude stated as the glasses of champagne were filled by the staff and plates generously loaded with a helping of all that was on offer.

“Commander Lord Rhaziel.” Prince Thorne extended a hand toward the Hyhborn who’d been the second to enter and then nodded at the other. “And Lord Bastian.”

Bas.

My gaze shot to the other Hyhborn lord, and I suddenly understood his smile when he had spotted me upon entering. He had been in the gardens that night, the one who had spoken to Prince Thorne while I slipped in and out of consciousness.

Lord Bastian caught my stare and winked. “Your city is most peaceful,” he said, shifting his attention to the Baron. “As are your manor grounds. Very . . . lovely scenery you have, especially in the gardens.”

Oh gods . . .

Would it be considered dramatic for me to wish that the floor would open up beneath my chair and swallow me whole?

“That is most kind of you. Archwood is the jewel of the Midlands.” Claude reached for that damn glass of champagne. “Please, enjoy our food. It has all been prepared in your honor.”

“It is much appreciated,” Prince Thorne acknowledged.

“Archwood is more than just the jewel of the Midlands,” Commander Rhaziel stated as the Prince picked up a knife, cutting into the chicken. “It’s a vital trading port, situated at a central point in the kingdom, and by far the most easily accessible city along the Eastern Canal,” he said. That was true only because the remaining cities along the Eastern Canal were isolated by the Wychwoods. “Archwood is very important to the . . . kingdom.”

“It is a relief to hear that King Euros recognizes the importance of Archwood in regard to the integrity of Caelum,” Hymel responded, and then launched into a declaration of Archwood’s successes in the organization of the ships transporting goods and the funneling of such throughout the other five territories.

I was barely listening as, from the corner of my eye, I saw Claude motion for his glass to be refilled. I tensed, doubting it went unnoticed by Prince Thorne or the others. Claude picked up a buttery roll, tearing it apart before eating it piece by piece as niceties continued to be exchanged. I hoped the bread soaked up some of the alcohol he was consuming. I glanced at the Prince— at his hands as he carved into the chicken.

There was this distinctive edge creeping into how everyone spoke, an increasing thinness to the words of the Hyhborn as the Baron continued to drink. And I was fascinated with watching the Hyhborn eat, which I could admit was a bit odd. It was just strange to see them eat with such impeccable manners while in their armor, with the brief glimpses of sheathed daggers each time they moved in their chairs. Meanwhile, the Baron continued to pick at his food like a small child.

“Would you like something else?” Prince Thorne asked.

When there was no answer, I looked up from the Prince’s hands, slowly realizing he was speaking to me. My cheeks warmed. “Excuse me?”

He gestured at my plate with this fork. “You’ve barely eaten.”

My normally robust appetite had been all but vanquished by my nerves and what was going on around me. “I ate a small meal not too long before dinner,” I told him.

One brow rose, and he looked at me as if he knew I was lying, which I was.

“Are you tired?” Claude glanced at my plate before looking over at the Prince. “She has been quite tired of late.”

I bit down on my lip. That was extremely unnecessary of him to share.

“Is that so?” Prince Thorne’s fingers tapped idly.

“She’s been spending a lot of time outside,” Claude went on as I inhaled deeply through my nose. “In that garden of hers.”

Interest sparked in Lord Bastian’s features. “The garden?”

“Not the garden you’re likely thinking of,” I quickly explained. “There’s just a small patch of the Baron’s gardens that is mine.”

“If I can’t find her within these manor walls, I always know where to find her,” Claude said with a touch of fondness. “She has quite the green thumb.”

Feeling Prince Thorne’s gaze on me, I speared a steamed carrot with my fork.

“So I’ve heard,” Prince Thorne murmured.

“You’ve told him about your garden?” Claude asked with a deep chuckle. “Did she speak to you about the various breeds of sedum? Stimulating conversation, I assure you.”

“Different species,” I muttered under my breath.

“Not as of yet.” Prince Thorne took a bite of his chicken. “How many different species of sedum are there?”

Surely, he couldn’t seriously want to know, but he placed his fork beside his plate and waited. “There are . . . there are hundreds of different species, Your Grace.”

“Thorne,” he corrected.

Beside him, Commander Rhaziel turned his head to him, his brows lifting.