Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

“Not too late,” Hymel answered, tossing the parchments onto the desk. “And there’s enough coin. Or will be.” He looked up at me. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for Claude,” I said, deciding that the prevalent financial issues were something I was going to have to stress over later. “I can’t find him.”

Hymel’s dark brows rose. “He’s not here.”

My lips pursed. “I can see that. Do you know where he is?”

“Last I knew, he was in his quarters, but I’m not his keeper.”

“Clearly,” I muttered. “He’s not there. I’ve checked twice.”

“Then he’s probably with the Bowers.” Hymel leaned back in the chair, looking mighty comfortable where he didn’t belong. “And he’s likely on a bender with it being the start of the Feasts tonight— well, at midnight.”

“And because of that, shouldn’t he be here and not off someplace else?”

“One would think that,” Hymel stated dryly. “But this is Claude we’re talking about. Last Feasts, he spent half of them hallucinating winged creatures in some abandoned mine with the Bower brothers.”

That sounded so bizarre it had to be true. “So, there’s a chance he won’t show for the start?”

Hymel shrugged. “Possibly. He hasn’t before.”

And I wouldn’t know that since I never saw him during the Feasts.

“Considering the mood he was in when I last saw him, I’m thinking he’ll probably be seeing winged beasts once more.”

My chest tightened. “What do you mean about his mood?”

“He’s been morose since the meeting with the Prince of Vytrus.” Hymel picked up a paperweight carved from obsidian. “After he apparently agreed to give you to the Prince.”

My mouth dropped open. “He did not give me to the Prince,” I said, and I doubted that was what caused Claude to be depressed. He’d been relieved by it. “And I saw him after that. He didn’t appear bothered.” At least not until we’d started to talk.

“That’s not how I heard it,” Hymel countered. “The Prince wanted you, a lowborn, and Claude agreed. I think his fragile feelings were hurt.”

I frowned, concentrating on him. The string connected us, but I saw the grayish shield obscuring his intentions— his future.

Hymel tossed the obsidian ball and caught it. “Is there something you needed from Claude?”

Pulling my senses back, I crossed my arms and made no attempt to approach Hymel. He’d know what I was up to the moment I attempted to touch him. “I had a vision.”

One side of his lips kicked up. “Do tell.”

“Of blood and death. I think— no, I know something bad is going to happen at the Feasts,” I told him. “I think Claude should cancel them— ”

“Cancel the Feasts?” Hymel laughed. “The Westlands armies could descend on us tomorrow, and the Feasts will not be canceled.”

My brows knitted. “Hymel, I know you like to act like my visions aren’t real, but you know better. The celebrations could at least be canceled here.”

“Not going to happen.” He tossed the obsidian ball once more.

Frustration burned as I stared at him, and suddenly that shiver at the nape of my neck and between my shoulder blades came. I saw nothing, but I heard three words whispered. I stiffened. “The Prince of Primvera,” I said, and Hymel’s gaze flashed to mine. He caught the ball. “What was he doing here today?”

“Sharing good news.” Hymel placed the obsidian on the stack of parchment. “Prince Rainer will be joining us for the Feasts.”





CHAPTER 33


I stood at the edge of the Great Chamber the following night, staring at the dais. The elaborate ruby-encrusted chair sat vacant.

Claude was still missing.

Thorne had yet to return.

Fingers pressing into the skirt of my plain white gown, I felt the hilt of the lunea dagger sheathed to my thigh. I didn’t know why I’d grabbed it when I left my chambers. It had been an unconscious act, but it made me feel a little better.

I scanned the crush of vividly dressed and masked aristo. Luckily I hadn’t seen Naomi here or in the solarium, where Grady was stationed. Nor did I see Hymel.

Something isn’t right.

My gaze settled on a fair-haired man, drawn to him simply because he was one of the fully unmasked in attendance, but even if he had been masked, I would’ve known immediately what he was. He was taller than most in the chamber, the silk of his shirt and the cut of his dark breeches more finely tailored than the clothes of the wealthiest of aristo in attendance. His features were perfectly symmetrical, giving him an unreal beauty. He was a lord.

And it was one of the two I’d seen with Prince Rainer yesterday. The one who reminded me of Lord Samriel. This Hyhborn in the crowd looked so much like him. There were other Hyhborn, more in the solarium than in here, but I hadn’t seen Prince Rainer.

The Lord angled his head, his stare colliding with mine. I sucked in a startled breath.

He smiled.

Swallowing, I took a step back as he was surrounded by fawning aristo. Unmasked as I was, I stood out. My heart fluttered like a trapped bird as I hastily turned and left the Great Chamber, entering the wide hall and slipping out one of the doors leading to the outside.

I was jumpy, partly due to the lack of sleep and the creeping dread that had haunted me throughout the day. I tried several times throughout the day to get my intuition to work— to tell me anything about where Claude could be. I’d even drawn myself a bath and held myself underwater so that no sound or distraction could find me, but there was silence. Nothing.

And that could mean one of only two things— Hyhborn were somehow involved in whatever Claude was doing or his seeming disappearance involved me somehow.

Claude could very well be off with the Bowers, but . . .

Something isn’t right.

Aristo had spilled out into the lawn, where laughter joined the music. I strode past the masked revelers, stomach knotting. I was tired, each step dogged, but the anxious energy invading my veins made it impossible for me to attempt any rest.

Using the narrow stone bridge, I crossed the small stream and stopped to look back at the manor. Torchlight lit those dancing and lounging on the lawn.

They were completely unaware of the looming violence of even the Westlands armies but gods, I wished I were one of them, blissfully ignorant and losing myself in the potent drink and rich food, in the sensual presence of the Hyhborn.

I fought the urge to race back and warn them, but how could I explain? Most wouldn’t believe me. Others might think I was a conjurer, and with Hyhborn lords in attendance, the act would be foolish.

So I walked on, the sōls drifting in the air above me as I followed the path I’d walked a thousand times. They’d be gone at the end of the Feasts, not returning until the days leading up to the next.

I kept my gaze on them, because the low hum of conversation wasn’t the only sound echoing out from the many different pathways and hidden-away nooks of the grand gardens. There were softer, sultrier gasps and thicker, deeper moans, a kind of song one didn’t normally hear while traveling the hedged walkways.

The Feasts were in full, decadent swing.

Dragging my teeth over my lower lip, I watched the sōls dip and rise as if they were joined in a dance until a soft peal of laughter drew my attention from them. A trio drifted out from one of the shadowy lanes. Two women and one man, and there was no telling if they were aristo or not, but there was a whole lot of skin on display. Bare arms and legs that played peekaboo with the pastel panels of skirts. The man’s shirt was left undone and open. Crimson ribbons fell from the women’s masks, and the man’s was a plain, shiny black.

I stepped aside, allowing the two women walking arm in arm with a man to pass by. One woman nodded in my direction. The other smiled.

“Good evening,” the man said, his head tilting as he eyed me. All I saw was the curve of his mouth tip up in approval as he eyed the lacy straps crisscrossing over my breasts and the gauzy material clinging to my hips.

“Would you care to join us?” he asked.