Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

Except caelestias weren’t treated like lowborn. “Have you known?”

He held my stare, then looked away. “At first, I . . . I suspected that you were.”

An ache pierced my chest as I sucked in a breath that went nowhere. “And you never told me? Why wouldn’t you— ”

“Because I’m not sure what you are,” he cut in. “And I speak the truth. You don’t bear the mark.”

I frowned. “What mark?”

“Your eyes. They’re brown. A beautiful shade of brown,” he added quickly. “But all caelestias have eyes like mine. Some are different in other ways.” He looked away. “But you don’t bear the telltale trait of a caelestia.”

“My eyes . . .” I thought of how they’d looked different the other day, an inner ring of . . . of blue appearing around the pupils. My throat tightened. The night in Union City? Thorne and Lord Samriel . . . they had been looking at the eyes of the children there. My palms dampened.

“Has the Prince sensed that you were a caelestia?” Claude asked.

“No,” I said, wiping my palms on my knees. “The Prince has always referred to me as a mortal, but . . .”

“But what?”

“But he says there’s something about me that he can’t figure out,” I said, breathing through the stinging in my throat. “He feels as if he met me before.”

“Because he has, hasn’t he?”

Losing my connection with him, I went rigid. Even my heart stuttered.

“He’s the Hyhborn you met in Union City, isn’t he?” Claude drew his fingers over his brow. “The one you thought was a lord?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “How did you know it was him?”

“I didn’t till the other night, at dinner. It was the way he behaved toward you. The way he . . .” His eyes squinted. “The way he claimed you.”

That he came for what is his.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered.

“Neither do I, and I mean that. I truly do.” He dropped his hand to the arm of the chair. “You have abilities similar to my cousin, but if a prince cannot sense that you’re a caelestia and you don’t bear the mark, then there was no way for me to know for sure.”

I looked away, swallowing. “You still could’ve told me.”

“Then what? Do you know how a caelestia is proven if there are no parents to make the claim? They are taken to the Hyhborn Courts, where a prince or another Deminyen confirms their lineage,” he explained. “And if a Deminyen couldn’t sense it now, what would’ve been the likelihood of one being able to do so then? I know I said I wasn’t worried about Prince Thorne believing you to be a conjurer, but others? It would be too risky.”

I tried to accept what he said. He had a point, but . . . “You don’t have abilities.”

Claude laughed roughly. “No, I don’t. Neither does Hymel. Neither do most caelestias.”

“Then why would your cousin have them?”

“Or you? If that is what you are?” He said what I hadn’t. “Because my cousin is starborn. A mortal made divine.”

“And what does that mean exactly?” I demanded.

“That is not something I can answer,” he said, dragging a hand over his head.

I stood, flashing from confusion to anger and then disappointment. “You can’t or you won’t?”

“I can’t,” he insisted, and several moments passed. “Maybe I should’ve told you anyway. I’d be lying if I said that fear for your safety was the only reason I remained quiet, but you already know that.”

“I do.”

Claude flinched, and damn it, seeing that hurt. I didn’t want it to, but it did. “I know I’m not a good man and that’s also something you already know,” he said, and it was I who winced then. “So my advice likely means nothing, but you need to ignore your intuition this time. When the Prince returns, you need to tell him that you’ve met before. You need to tell him.”





CHAPTER 31


I got little rest that night, and I wasn’t sure if it was the knowledge that I’d been wrong about Claude or if it was because of Thorne’s absence. I was also uncertain which one of those things was worse— which one was leading to my general sense of unease.

And that unease followed me through the morning and afternoon, as I walked the busy halls of the manor. Staff rushed to and fro, some cradling vases full of banana-hued daisies and streaming, white-petaled petunias while others carried trays of meats provided by Primvera and yet to be prepared. All were far too busy to pay much attention to me.

The Feasts began tomorrow.

Thorne would likely return the day after or the following one.

I stopped by the breezeway, thoughts heavy as they drifted to Claude. What I felt was a mixture of disappointment and anger, confusion and a little bit of heartache. I tried to understand his position, and I did. Mostly. Because he still should have told me what he suspected. I had a right to know, even if there was nothing to be done with that knowledge.

But wasn’t I doing the same thing with Thorne? I didn’t understand why my intuition stopped me, but that didn’t change the fact that our meeting in Union City was likely why Thorne felt like we’d met. What it didn’t explain was how it all tied into what both Maven and Claude had shared. Why it even mattered. My intuition was quiet except for that unease.

I turned, spotting Grady entering the hall. I started toward him. I started to speak.

“Whatever you have to tell me is going to have to wait for a few,” he said, placing his hand on my lower back. “There’s something you need to see.”

Curiosity rose, but so did that anxious energy. It made me jumpy, chest too tight.

“Hymel just came out of the Great Chamber.” Grady led me through the narrow hall, to one of the many interior doors. He kept his voice low as we entered the main hall, one now filled with vases overflowing with those flowers I’d seen earlier, placed upon numerous marble pedestals. “He wasn’t alone.”

I glanced down the wide hall of the foyer that opened on both sides to the outside, my gaze landing on the pillared, stone doors. “Who was he with?”

“You’ll see.” Grady nodded toward one of the windows that looked over a part of the circular drive leading to the manor.

I saw Hymel standing with his back to us, but it was those he stood below that caught and held my attention. There were three of them astride sable-black horses that towered over the shires. One had long, fair hair that reminded me of the lord we’d seen in Union City, knotted at the nape of his neck, but the blond wasn’t the icy white of Lord Samriel’s. Another’s skin was a warm clay in the sun, and the third was raven-haired, and that was who spoke to Hymel.

It was clear they were Hyhborn, but none that I knew who had arrived with Thorne. Besides, Commander Rhaziel and Lord Bastian had left with Thorne.

“Are they from Primvera? Bringing more food?” I asked.

“That’s what I thought until I saw the one who’s speaking to Hymel now,” Grady said, placing his hand on the window. “That’s Prince Rainer.”

My eyes widened as I stepped closer to the window, unable to make out much of any of their features.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Grady questioned.

“Maybe it’s about the Westlands threat,” I said, though I never knew the Prince to have visited Archwood before. “Or about the shadow market.”

“Yeah.” Grady angled his body toward me. “But what the hell is he doing talking with Hymel about those things and not the actual baron?”

That was a damn good question.



Hymel handled quite a bit of the day-to-day functionality of Archwood, but there was no way that the Baron would not be available to speak to the Hyhborn.

Especially not a prince.

The anxiety was now a dread I couldn’t name, but it was pumping through my veins as I hurried through the maze of halls, the hem of the pale gray tunic snapping at my knees. My thoughts bounced between the possibility that Claude and his family had descended from Deminyens— that I had— and what that really meant. If it meant anything. But I set aside what I’d learned from Maven as I reached the gold-adorned doors of the Baron’s personal apartments.