Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

But Hyhborn couldn’t lie.

Smacking my hands over my face, I dragged them down, rubbing at the skin. Why was I even lying in his bed, thinking about this? There were far more important things I needed to be focused on. Claude’s knowledge of how my abilities worked, because I doubted he had no recollection of speaking that. His relation to the Commander of the Iron Knights. The impending siege.

Thorne was the least of my worries.

But he was the prettiest of my worries.

“Gods,” I groaned, throwing the sheet off. I sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, looking for my gown. Not spotting it on the floor, I rose and turned, finding the gown folded on the chest, where his swords had lain the night before. A black robe lay across the foot of the bed. He must’ve left that there for me.

That strange and downright silly swelling motion returned to my chest as I donned the robe. It was . . . thoughtful of him.

I’ll return to you soon.

I glanced around the quarters. He . . . Thorne had said he wanted me with him until he left to escort his armies. Did he expect me to wait around for him all day, in his chambers?

That was not going to happen.

Tugging my hair out from the robe, I picked up my gown. I cradled it to my chest and hurried toward the door, finding it locked. When I turned the latch and opened the door, I nearly plowed straight into Grady.

“Oh my gods.” Gasping, I stumbled back.

Grady caught my arm, steadying me. “Sorry,” he grunted. “I was trying to pick the lock— been at it for a half of an hour. He must’ve done something to it to prevent it from unlocking from the outside.” His dark gaze swept over my face, and then he seemed to see what I was wearing and holding. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Of course.” I stepped around him, closing the door behind me. “Why were you trying to pick the lock?”

“Really?” His brows flew up.

“Really.” I started down the hall.

He stared at me for a moment. “Do you even know what time it is? It’s almost noon.”

Surprise flickered through me. “Really? I never— ”

“You never sleep this late,” he finished for me. “I looked everywhere for you this morning, Lis. Your chambers, the gardens— I ran into Naomi, who was also looking for you,” he said when he saw the look I gave him. “She told me about this arrangement.”

Ugh.

I held the gown tighter. “She shouldn’t have done that.”

“Because you weren’t planning to?”

“No, because she probably had to deal with you overreacting and freaking out,” I said, quieting as we passed one of the staff carrying a load of towels. “And I was going to tell you.”

“When?”

“This morning.” I tucked a strand of hair back.

His jaw was working overtime. “It goes without saying— ”

“You’re not happy with this arrangement.”

“And neither are you, according to Naomi,” he shot back.

My lips pursed, but I stamped down on my annoyance. Naomi was likely just worried, and I’d clearly given her good reason to be. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the arrangement,” I began. “But Thorne and I talked it out, and I’m okay with it.”

Grady had stopped walking. “Thorne?”

“Yes?” I glanced back at him. “That’s his name.”

“And since when are you on a first-name basis with him?” he demanded.

Since I’d decided to stay despite what he’d told me last night.

I didn’t say that, because all of that was too hard to explain or understand. Hell, I wasn’t sure if I even understood. I turned down the hall. “It’s fine, Grady. Really— ”

“I really wish you’d stop lying to me.”

“I’m not.” I stopped, facing him. “I wasn’t thrilled with the arrangement, because he hadn’t asked me how I felt— what I wanted— but we talked it out. We came to an . . . understanding.” I think. “And I . . .” Pressing my lips together, I shook my head as I started walking. “I can touch him, Grady. I can touch him and not hear, feel, or think anything other than my own thoughts and feelings. I know you say you understand all of that, but there is no way you can truly fathom what that means.”

“You’re right,” Grady admitted after a few moments. “I can’t know what that means.”

He fell quiet as he trailed behind me, but that didn’t last long. “Is that the only reason, though?” he asked, voice low. “Because you can touch him?”

“Why?” I shot him a look over my shoulder. “What other reason could it be?”

“I don’t know.” He glanced up at the ceiling as he fell in step beside me. “Do you like him?”

“Do I like him?” I laughed as my stomach gave a weird wiggle. “What are we?” I nudged him with my elbow. “Sixteen?”

He snorted. “Do you?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I like him well enough to want to touch him, if that is what you’re asking,” I said, skin prickling. “I don’t know him well enough to like him more than that.”

Grady stared ahead. “Yeah, but even if you did know him, you can’t like him, Lis.”

“Yeah, I know. You don’t need to tell me that.”

“Just making sure,” he murmured.

Ignoring the sudden knot in my chest, I said, “Shouldn’t you be working or something?”

“Yes, but the Baron is holed up in his study with Hymel.”

They were likely trying to figure out where a thousand soldiers were going to camp. I pushed open the doors to my quarters. “Did Naomi tell you why the Hyhborn were here?”

“She did.” He sat on the edge of the chair. “Got to admit, that surprised me.”

“There’s something else I learned last night.”

“If it has anything to do with what went on in the chambers with the Prince, I’m not at all interested.”

“It has nothing to do with Thor— ” I caught myself when Grady’s stare jerked toward me. “It has nothing to do with the Prince, but King Euros,” I said, and then told him about how the King had preferred that Archwood go the way of Astoria. I didn’t tell him about the past— about the world that had fallen. Thorne trusting me with that was important, and knowledge of the past felt . . . it felt dangerous.

“Can’t say I’m surprised to hear the King would rather see the city leveled,” Grady said when I went quiet.

“Really?” My brows rose.

“Yeah. Were you surprised to hear that?”

“A little,” I said. “I mean, there’s a huge difference between the King taking little interest in the welfare of us lowborn and deciding that our homes and livelihoods aren’t worth the possibility of a Hyhborn being injured or dying.”

“Yeah, I don’t see a difference there.” He shrugged. “All Hyhborn care about is themselves at the end of the day. Half of the time I’m surprised that they haven’t just gotten rid of us and taken the realm for themselves.”

“Gods.” I stared at him. “That’s dark. Even for you.”

He snorted.

I shook my head. “There’s more. It’s about Vayne Beylen.”

Curiosity filled his face. “I’m all ears.”

“And it has to stay with your ears.”

“Of course.”

I glanced at the closed door. “Claude and Vayne are related.”

His brow shot up. “What?”

“They’re cousins, related on Claude’s father’s side of the family,” I told him. “Beylen is a caelestia.”

“Fuck . . .” He drew the word out. He leaned into the chair, draping an arm over the back. “How did you learn this?”

“Claude told me. The Hyhborn don’t know.” I crossed my arms, inhaling deeply and immediately regretting it, because the damn robe smelled of . . . of Thorne. “But him being a caelestia explains why the Iron Knights would back the Westlands.”

“Yeah.” He dragged a finger over his brow. “I suppose.”

I studied him. “I’m sorry.”

He looked up. “For what?”

“I know you kind of looked up to this Beylen, and hearing that he’s a caelestia probably changes it.”

“Why?” His brows knitted.

“Because caelestias aren’t lowborn— ”

“They basically are compared to the Hyhborn. I mean, look at Claude. He’s about as dangerous as a half-asleep kitten.”