Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

I was barely able to smother my gasp. I would consider being sent anywhere in pieces to be more than a problem.

“Well, that’s concerning.” Claude took a deep drink of his wine.

“There’s more.”

Claude’s grip tightened on his glass. “Can’t wait to hear.”

“The Princess of Visalia has been amassing a substantial presence along the border between the Westlands and Midlands,” Ramsey shared, his thoughts reflecting what he spoke. “More rumors, but ones also believed to be true.”

“And this substantial presence?” Claude looked out over the crowd below him. “Are we speaking of her battalion?”

“Hers and the Iron Knights is what I’m hearing.” Ramsey shifted, dropping a large hand to his knee.

Surprise flickered through me as I set the chalice on the tray. The Iron Knights, a group of rebellious lowborn who were more like raiders than actual knights, had been causing problems throughout the border towns in the Midlands and Lowlands for the last year. From what I knew, they wanted to see the Hyhborn king replaced with a lowborn one, and even though I didn’t pay much mind to politics unless I had to, I knew they were gaining support throughout Caelum. It was kind of hard not to when I knew people who believed that Vayne Beylen— the Commander of the Iron Knights— could change the realm for the better, but I didn’t see how that would be possible if they were joining forces with the Westlands’ Hyhborn.

Claude drew his thumb over his chin. “And have they crossed into the Midlands?”

“Not that I have heard.”

“What about Beylen?” Claude asked. “Has he been spotted?”

“That is another thing I cannot answer,” Ramsey said, while thinking, If that bastard is spotted, he’ll be a dead one. Something about that thought was disquieting, because it was almost as if Beylen’s death would be upsetting. The Iron Knights were gaining traction among lowborn, but usually the wealthy ones didn’t want to see the Iron Knight succeed. Doing so jeopardized the status quo. “But Archwood is quite the distance from the border. There will be at least a warning if the Iron Knights do move into our lands, but if they travel past the border towns? This would no longer be a rebellion.”

“No,” Claude murmured. “It would be an act of war.”

My chest felt far too tight as I severed the connection I’d forged with the magnate. I glanced at Grady, then to the crowd. There had been no wars, not since the Great War that took place four centuries ago and left nearly nothing of the realm behind.

“I do not think it will come to that,” Ramsey said.

“Nor do I.” Claude nodded slowly. “Thank you for the information.” He leaned back in his chair. “I would keep this quiet until we know more for sure, lest we have a panic on our hands.”

“Agreed.”

The Baron was silent as Ramsey rose and descended the dais. The shipping magnate was no longer visible in the crowd when Claude turned his attention toward me. “What do you know?”

And here was the crux of our arrangement. How I benefited him. Sometimes it was learning of another’s future or listening in on the thoughts of another baron, if they were up to something or if they came to Archwood in good faith. There were times when it required a more . . . hands-on approach for me to know.

But not this time.

As soon as he asked his question, a chill moved through me. The coldness settled in the center of my shoulder blades. My stomach hollowed as I reached beneath my heavy length of dark hair and touched the space behind my left ear, where it felt like someone had pressed a cold kiss. The voice among my thoughts spoke a warning.

He’s coming.





CHAPTER 3


The dull ache in my head that came from whenever I was around so many people eased only when I returned to my quarters. I was tired, but my mind was far too restless for me to even think of sleep as I entered the bathing chamber.

I quickly scrubbed the paint from my face and braided my hair. After slipping on my nightgown, I donned a lightweight, cap-sleeved robe that belted at the waist as I toed on a pair of thin-soled boots. I slipped out of the terrace doors of my quarters and into the humid night air, then crossed the narrow patio and started across the back lawn. It must’ve rained a bit ago, but the clouds had cleared. With the glow of the full moon casting silvery light along the grass and stone pathway, I made no attempt to hide my movements from those patrolling the manor walls in the distance. The Baron was well aware of my nighttime travels and had no problem with them.

During the day, city folk often entered the grounds of the manor to wander the gardens, but it was quiet and peaceful at this time of night. The same could not be said about inside the manor, where the party was just beginning in the Great Chamber. All the aristo unaware that something was coming.

Someone was coming.

My stomach wriggled as if it were full of serpents. Could it be warning me of the Iron Knights— their Commander? It was the only thing that made sense, but why would the Iron Knights be working with the Princess of Visalia?

Trying to see into the future where the Deminyens were involved was nearly as unhelpful as trying to see my own. My so-called gifts were no help there when I either heard or saw nothing, or received only vague impressions.

I thought of Claude’s response to my premonition. The Baron had gone quiet before deciding that King Euros would surely do something to prevent whatever political unrest was occurring between the Crown and the Westlands from spilling over into the Midlands. His mood improved then, but mine had worsened, because all I could think of was Astoria, the once-great city on the border between the Midlands and the Westlands. It was said to have been not only the birthplace of Vayne Beylen but also where those who sought to join the rebellion had been given refuge.

King Euros had sanctioned the destruction of Astoria, and the Prince of Vytrus had delivered the King’s wrath. Thousands had been displaced, and only the gods knew how many had been killed. All that that devastation had accomplished was the creation of more rebels.

So, I wasn’t relieved by the idea of the King becoming involved.

Sighing as I passed the darkened buildings where the manor blacksmith and other workers spent their days, I saw the stables come into view. I grinned as I caught sight of Gerold, one of the stable grooms, slumbering propped against the wall, legs spread wide in the straw. Seeing the empty bottle of whiskey between his thighs, I cracked a grin. Gerold wouldn’t be waking anytime soon.

I passed several stalls, heading for the back, where a beautiful sable mare nibbled on a late-night snack of alfalfa in the glow of lantern light. I laughed under my breath. “Iris, how are you always eating?”

The mare huffed, ear twitching.

Smiling, I ran my hand over her glossy coat. Iris was one of many gifts from Claude. She was the only horse I’d ever owned, and she was my favorite of all the gifts he’d bestowed upon me even though she didn’t . . . she didn’t feel like she was truly mine.

Nothing in Archwood did, not even after six years. Everything still felt temporary and on loan. Everything still felt like it could be ripped out from beneath me at any given second.