Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

My heart skipped. In the panic and terror, I’d forgotten the return of Thorne and his knights.

“They will run into some unexpected trouble en route, which should give us time,” Prince Rohan said with a smile, and that quick burst of hope deflated. He looked to me. “Don’t worry, my dear. We will keep you safe from the Prince of Vytrus.”

My mouth dropped open. Of all the things I might have expected the Prince to say, that was not it. “Keep me safe from him?”

“It may not seem that way now, but we are saving your life,” Prince Rohan said. “After all, it’s Prince Thorne you should fear. You are his to kill.”





CHAPTER 36


Thrown by what Prince Rohan had said, I was barely aware of Hymel leading Lord Samriel to my quarters. There was no way what the Prince had said was true. I wasn’t Thorne’s to kill. He wasn’t a threat to me. I wasn’t scared of him. I felt safe with him.

But Hyhborn couldn’t lie.

They could kill, though.

My chest hollowed as I walked, the slice along the bottom of my foot a dull burn. Everywhere I looked, no matter how quickly I averted my gaze and despite the fact that Hymel took us through the staff halls, I saw bodies. I saw blood streaking the floor and pooling in the crevices. When we reached the hall to my chambers, it was devoid of gore and bloodshed. If not for the faint smell of burning wood, one could almost pretend that such violence hadn’t touched us, but I could still hear the moans and whimpers, and distant screams.

My vision had come to fruition, but it hadn’t encapsulated the true horror of what had come to pass.

Lord Samriel ushered me into the chambers after Hymel opened the doors. Hymel started to follow, but the Lord held up his hand. “Leave us.”

My heart stuttered as my gaze flicked to Hymel’s. He hesitated, his gaze bouncing between the Lord and me, and good gods, I’d never thought I’d prefer his company, but here I was, wishing it weren’t him closing the doors and remaining in the hall.

Alone with the Lord in a chamber that no longer felt familiar and was strangely cold, I was too aware of the Lord’s stare. It was much like Thorne’s. Intense. Unflinching. I folded my arms over my chest and backed up against the settee. Several moments of silence passed as the Lord watched me. I peeked at him. The silvery-blond hair was longer than it had been when I last saw him, reaching the middle of his back and a shock against the leather-adorned black armor protecting his chest and shoulders. He looked . . . curious and perplexed. Did he recognize me? Like with Thorne, I doubted it, but the same instinct that warned me to stay quiet resurfaced.

“Sit,” Lord Samriel instructed.

Not wanting to tempt the Lord’s ire and endanger Grady, I sat on the edge of the settee, curling my feet beneath the hem of my gown.

Slowly, he sat on the settee, his long and lean body angled toward mine. “Your name? It’s Lis?”

I nodded.

“Is it short for anything?”

Pressing my arms close to my waist and chest, I didn’t want to answer him, but the risk of lying was too great. “Calista.”

“Calista,” he repeated, and hearing him speak my name drew a shiver down my spine, but not the kind elicited from Thorne. “A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

Fingers pressing into my sides, I forced myself to respond. “That is kind of you to say.”

His answering smile was tight and knowing. “You worry for your friend?”

My stomach dipped and twisted. “Yes.”

“The Prince will not break his oath unless given reason to,” he told me. “You just don’t want to give him reason.”

“I won’t,” I swore.

“Relieved to hear that,” he replied. “Tell me about your abilities, Calista.”

“I . . . I can do as Hymel said,” I told him. “But I’m not a conjurer.”

“I know.” Lord Samriel leaned back, resting one ankle on his knee. The shafts of his boots were polished, but something dark smeared the foot. I glanced at the tile near the door. A footprint in red stained the floor. Blood. I quickly looked away, stomach churning. “I want to hear how you would describe them.”

Not at all experienced in speaking of my abilities, I squirmed. “I have . . . heightened intuition and I can sometimes see the future— in visions or when asked a question.”

“Interesting,” he murmured, the curve of his lips doing nothing to soften the harsh angles of his features. “This heightened intuition you speak of? How does it work?”

“It . . . it guides me toward certain choices. Sometimes I’m unaware of it until I’m doing something.”

“Like?”

My thoughts were so scattered it took a moment for me to think of an example. “Sometimes I’ll see someone and know what is about to occur. It can happen in a premonition— something I see happening in my mind before it occurs— and other times it’s a voice I hear.”

“Voice?” he questioned.

“My own voice. It’ll . . . whisper what is about to occur or it will tell me to stop and listen, take another path or enter a different— ” A scream from outside caused me to jump. My pulse sped up, and my head swung toward the window, but I could see nothing beyond the curtains. Who was that? Someone I knew? A stranger?

“Pay that no mind,” Lord Samriel said, tone gentle and almost kind. His tone had been that way this entire time. Casual, even. “There is nothing you can do for them. Focus on what you can do for yourself and for your friend. What is his name?”

A knot lodged in my chest as I dragged my gaze from the window. “Grady,” I whispered, clearing my throat. “My intuition is just very heightened.”

“And seeing the future?” Lord Samriel asked.

I nodded. “Usually it takes someone asking me a question. I . . . I will need to concentrate on them and sometimes I need to touch them.”

“But you also have premonitions without being asked. Did you not see this coming?”

“I did, but . . .” I swallowed, unnerved as I focused on the hand resting on the arm of the settee. The ring finger on his left hand was missing. Could he not regenerate it? There was no doubt in my mind that Lord Samriel was powerful enough, which meant that keeping from him the fact that I could hear thoughts was not wise, but Hymel hadn’t mentioned it. The others might not know. “But it was vague. I knew there’d be . . . bloodshed but I didn’t know what would cause it.”

“Is it because the events involved you?”

My gaze shot to his as my heart skipped.

His smile deepened as his chin dipped. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“How . . . how did you know that?”

“I knew of someone like you once, with similar gifts. Their future was often hidden to them.” His gaze, like shards of obsidian except for the green ring around the pupil, flickered across my face. “For a time.” His head straightened. “You were an orphan?”

Surprise ripped through me, then understanding. “Hymel?”

Lord Samriel nodded.

Anger built, tasting of ash on my tongue. It was clear that Hymel had been working with these Hyhborn, who likely hailed from the Lowlands. For how long was anyone’s guess. “Hymel . . . he said Prince Rainer would be joining us for the Feasts.”

“He did,” Lord Samriel said. “Or I suppose it would be more accurate to say that he was going to. However, the Prince of Primvera wasn’t in agreement with the King’s wishes.” He paused. “May the gods rest his soul.”

The breath I took went nowhere. “Prince Rainer . . . he’s dead?”

“Unfortunately.”

Oh my gods. I rocked back, toes pressing into the thick rug. “The King . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say what I suspected.

“What has Prince Thorne told you?” Lord Samriel asked.

I tensed. “About . . . about what?”

“About the King.”

“Nothing much,” I said, and that wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. “All I know is that he was sent here to determine if Archwood was worth defending against the Iron Knights.”

Lord Samriel made a noncommittal sound.