Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

“How many?” the Baron demanded as he paced the length of one of the numerous receiving chambers near the Great Chamber. Only one tail of his crisp white shirt was tucked into the tan breeches he wore. His dark hair appeared as if he’d run his hands through it several times that morning, leaving it sticking up in different directions. “How many of my men were killed last night?”

“Three are confirmed to be deceased,” Magistrate Kidder responded from where he sat, his hands gripping his knees until his knuckles were bleached white. “But there were . . . pieces found along the outside of the manor wall that have led us to believe there may be two or more yet unconfirmed.”

Behind the gray-haired magistrate, Hymel frowned.

“Pieces?” Claude spun toward the Magistrate as my gaze flickered to the doorway, briefly meeting Grady’s. “What do you mean by pieces?”

“Well, to be more exact, there were additional limbs that outnumbered those accounted for.” Magistrate Kidder’s complexion was nearly as pale as the Baron’s shirt. “One leg and two additional arms.”

“Fuck,” Hymel muttered, lip curling.

The bite of cold meat sandwich I’d swallowed mere minutes ago immediately soured in my stomach. I slowly placed the fork and knife onto the table, immensely regretting not having taken my lunch in my quarters. But I hadn’t been prepared for Claude to storm into the space with the Magistrate in tow. Nor had I been prepared to learn that three of the Baron’s guards had been killed last night. Or four. Or five.

Claude grabbed a decanter from the credenza and drank straight from it. “How long before your people can find and clean up the remains that belonged to those additional arms and legs?” He set the decanter down heavily. “Guests have already begun to arrive for this evening’s festivities. The last thing I need is for any of them to stumble upon a random head or torso among the roses.”

I briefly closed my eyes, more disgusted by the Baron’s somewhat surprising utter lack of care regarding who those pieces belonged to than I was with the grotesque topic of conversation.

“I have several men out there right now, searching for possible remains,” the Magistrate assured him. “But I would suggest you close the gardens for the next several hours.”

“No shit,” Claude muttered, dragging his hand through his hair again. The water in my glass began to tremble as he started pacing again. “You’ve seen the bodies, right?”

Magistrate Kidder’s throat bobbed as he nodded. “And I won’t unsee any of it.”

Claude crossed in front of the window, momentarily blocking the sunlight. “What do you think caused this?”

“Likely what your cousin thinks and what the others reported seeing.” The Magistrate glanced back at Hymel. “Ni’meres.”

A shudder ran through me as I recalled the sound of wings beating against the air. I had to agree with what Hymel and the other guards were saying.

Ni’mereswere another type of Hyhborn, the kind lowborn rarely dealt with or saw. I’d only ever seen them once before, when Grady and I were just kids, after leaving Union City. The stagecoach driver had spotted them on the road, circling a portion of the Wychwoods. They were something straight from a nightmare— a creature with a wingspan of over seven feet and talons longer and sharper than the claws of a bear. From the neck down, they resembled extraordinarily large eagles that stood nearly four feet tall.

But their head was that of a mortal.

“But why the fuck would ni’meres attack my men?” Claude demanded. “Don’t they only attack when someone comes too close to where they’re nesting?”

“I don’t think they were the target.” Grady spoke up from where he stood at the doors. “That’s what Osmund said this morning. That the ni’meres were heading for something in the gardens, and those patrolling the wall were unfortunately in the way. Grell and Osmund were on the ground when they hit.”

Claude passed by my table. “Then do you know what could’ve been in the gardens, that drew them?”

Now my stomach churned for an entirely different reason. Something had been in the gardens. My Hyhborn lord— no, he wasn’t mine. I really needed to stop with that. I picked up the glass of water and took several gulps.

“That I can’t answer,” Grady responded, his gaze briefly flicking to mine. I shrank a little in my seat. “None of the others saw anything out of the ordinary before they swarmed the gardens.”

Swarmed.

My hand shook slightly as I placed the glass down. A Hyhborn lord was a powerful being, but there had to be at least a dozen or more ni’meres. How could Lord Thorne have fought them off? But he had to have, because if not, they would have found him.

Unless those extra limbs belonged to him.

Worry festered, knotting in my chest as I set my glass down.

“Gods damn, ni’meres,” Claude muttered, shaking his head. “What next? The nix?”

I shuddered. Gods, I hoped not.

“Ni’meres behaving like that?” Hymel spoke up, frowning. “It’s rather unheard of, isn’t it?”

“A lot of unheard-of things have been happening,” Magistrate Kidder replied.

Claude stopped, looking at the older man. “Care to add more detail to that?”

“I’ve been hearing rumors of Hyhborn fighting,” the Magistrate began. “There’ve been reports of it happening in other cities. Just the other week, I heard that there had been quite the skirmish between them in Urbane last month.”

My brows knitted in a frown. Urbane was in the Lowlands territory, not all that far from the Hyhborn Court of Augustine, which also served as the capital of Caelum. I thought of what Lord Thorne had said when it came to Hyhborn on the verge of killing one another. Apparently it wasn’t out of the ordinary in their Courts, but it was rare to hear of it happening in front of the lowborn.

“Several were killed,” Magistrate Kidder added. “As well as a few lowborn who were unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Do we know what they are fighting about?” Claude asked.

“That I haven’t heard.” The Magistrate scratched at his jaw. “But if I do hear anything, I will let you know.”

“Thank you.” Claude glanced over at me, his expression unreadable. He crossed his arms. “I want the gardens cleared by this evening.” He faced the Magistrate. “I don’t want anything left behind, not even a fingernail.”

“Will do.” Magistrate Kidder got to his feet and strode stiffly out of the chamber, not looking in my direction. He hadn’t once since he’d entered. I didn’t need intuition to know that he thought I was nothing more than a well-kept whore that he’d have to pay for the pleasure of even looking upon.

Whatever.

The moment the door closed behind the Magistrate, the Baron turned to me. His features were so tensed that his mouth was nothing more than a slash. The Baron was clearly in a mood, and rightfully so. There were body parts in his gardens.

“Tell me, my pet, with all your intuition and second sight,” he said, arms at his sides, “you didn’t see a horde of ni’meres descending to wreak havoc on my gardens?”

“For her to have seen that, she would have to actually be useful,” Hymel remarked, crossing his arms over his chest. Over his shoulder, I saw Grady eyeing the back of his head like he wished to knock it off his shoulders. “And beyond parlor tricks and good instincts, she isn’t good for much, cousin.”

Claude’s head swung toward Hymel. “Shut up.”

A ruddy flush hit Hymel’s cheeks. He liked to run his mouth, but he knew that what I did had nothing to do with parlor tricks or illusion. He was just being an ass, as per usual.

So I ignored him, as per usual.

Claude faced me. “Lis?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” I reminded him. “You know— ” I jumped as Claude lunged forward, swiping his arm across the table. The glass of water and plate of tiny triangle-sliced sandwiches went flying onto the hardwood floors.

My jaw unlocked in surprise as I stared at the mess on the floor. Claude had a temper. Most caelestias did. I’d seen him throw a glass or two before. Expensive bottles of wine had hit the ground more than once, but he’d never acted that way toward me.

“Yes,” Claude hissed inches from my face as he planted his hands on the table. I saw Grady start to step forward, but he stopped himself when I gave a curt shake of my head. “I know it doesn’t work that way. You can’t see anything dealing with the Hyhborn, but . . .” His gaze locked on to mine. “But I also know that isn’t always the case. Sometimes you get vague impressions, and I also know you can’t see what you are a part of.”

My fingers dug into the skirt of my gown as something occurred to me. Last night I had seen what was about to happen regarding Muriel and Lord Thorne— the blood splattered on the wisteria blossoms. It hadn’t occurred to me then. Was it because it involved Lord Thorne?

“So, tell me, my pet.” He smiled, snapping me out of my realization. Or tried to. It was more of a grimace. “Were you involved in this?”

“No!” I exclaimed. Shock rolled through me as I stared at him. It wasn’t even because I was, somewhat, involved in what happened last night. But because he would even think I had anything to do with freaking ni’meres. “I had nothing to do with that. I didn’t even know there were ni’meres in Archwood.”

The Baron eyed me for several moments and then pushed off the table, rattling the remaining utensils. “There aren’t ni’meres in Archwood,” he said, nostrils flaring as he took a step back, nearly stepping in the food. “But there are some in Primvera. That is where they likely came from.” He stared down at the mess he’d created, pink spreading across his cheeks. “Either way,” he said, shoving the untucked tail of his shirt into his breeches. “Those ni’meres were obviously unhappy with something in that garden.”

More like unhappy with someone.

“Make sure that magistrate does his job,” he said to Hymel before stopping and coming back to where I sat. His throat bobbed as he stared down at me. “I’m sorry for losing my temper. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s not because I was angry with you.”

I said nothing, eyeing him warily.

He exhaled roughly. “I can retrieve a fresh plate of food for you.”

The Baron sounded like he was truly sorry. Not that it made his outburst justified. “It’s okay,” I said with a smile, because it had to be.

The Baron hesitated. “No, it’s— ” He stopped himself and took a deep breath. “I am sorry,” he repeated, and then he started toward the door, stopping to speak to Grady. “Can you make sure this is cleaned up?”

Grady nodded.

I rose as the door closed behind the Baron and his cousin, turning to the disaster on the floor.

“I got it,” Grady said roughly, approaching the table.

“It’s my food.” I knelt, beginning to retrieve the scattered slices of ham and cheese.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t help.” Grady knelt across from me, picking up the plate. “What a waste of good food.”

I nodded as I dropped a few of the pieces onto the plate he held, thinking there was a time when neither of us would’ve batted an eye at eating food that had fallen on the floor and been stepped on.

Finding a tomato, I cringed at the slimy dampness. “He’s in a mood, isn’t he?”

“Understatement of the year, Lis.” His jaw worked as he picked up the cup and set it on the table. “That wasn’t okay.”

“I know.” I briefly met his gaze. “He’s not my lover,” I reminded him.

“What is he to you? Your boss, who randomly gets far too friendly with you?”

“No, he’s my boss who pretends to be more than he is.” Probably wished he were, too— wished he felt more for me, that is.

“Still doesn’t make it okay.”

I nodded, scooping up the last piece of food, placing it on the plate as I rose. “But it’s not every day you have ni’meres swarming your gardens.”

Grady snorted. “Thank the gods.” He picked up a piece of bread. “I would’ve pissed myself if I had been out there, on the wall, and saw them coming.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.”

He pinned me with a stare, brows raised.

“Okay.” I laughed. “You would’ve done that and then fought them off.”

“No, I would have done that and then run, or pissed myself while running, which is the only sensible thing when faced with something like a ni’mere.”

Shaking my head, I picked up the last bit of food and dropped it on the plate Grady was holding. I started to rise when I noticed an angry, shiny reddish-brown patch of skin on Grady’s arm, just below his wrist. I reached for his hand, but caught myself. My gaze flew to his. “What happened to your arm?”

“What?” He glanced down. “Oh. It’s nothing. I was making a new blade and my hand slipped. Got too close to the heat.”

“Gods, Grady. That looks painful. Have you put anything on it?” Immediately, I started thinking of the different poultices that could be used. “I can— ”

“I already used the stuff you made last time. See?” He tilted his arm toward the light. “The sheen? It’s from the aloe stuff you made.”

“You need to use more than that.” I took the plate from him, placing it on the table. “And you should cover it when you’re outside, especially when you’re working in the shop.”

“Yes, Mother,” Grady replied dryly.

Eyeing his wound, I was reminded of something. “Have you talked to Claude about taking over for his blacksmith? Danil should be retiring soon, right? And with what happened to Jac . . .”

“I haven’t.” Grady turned away.

My eyes narrowed. “But you will, right?”

One shoulder lifted.

“I can ask him— ”

“Don’t do that.” Grady faced me.

“Why not?” I crossed my arms. “You’re good at that— ”

“I’m good at what I do now.”

“Yeah, but you actually enjoy working with iron and steel. It’s rare that someone is good at something they enjoy doing.” I watched him fiddle with the leather strap across his chest, holding one of the blades I knew he had crafted himself. “You need to ask Claude. He’s not going to tell you no.”

“I know. I will.” He was quiet for a moment. “You’re going to hate what I say next, but you should probably stay out of the gardens for a little while.”

“Yeah, probably.” I crossed the chamber, the gown snapping at my heels. I stared out the window, my thoughts drifting back to that odd feeling I had last night. That I should’ve stayed by his side.

It was still there, like a shadow in the back of my mind. That I should be out there.

With him.

Where I belonged.