Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

“Would you like a different wine, pet?”

My fingers tensed, then pressed against the skin exposed between two of the many strings of jewels adorning my hip. Normally the nickname didn’t bother me, but Claude’s cousin Hymel stood within ear range, which was common since he was the Captain of the Guard. Even with his back to me, I knew Hymel smirked. He was an ass, plain and simple.

Thin, delicate chains of diamonds hanging from a crown of fresh chrysanthemums tapped against my cheeks as I turned my head from the throng of those below to the man beside me.

The dark-haired Baron of Archwood sat upon what could be described only as a throne. A rather gaudy one, in my opinion. Large enough to seat two and encrusted with rubies taken from the Hollow Mines, the chair cost more coin than those mining the rubies would likely ever see.

Not that the Baron realized that.

Claude Huntington wasn’t necessarily a bad man, and I would know if he was even without my intuition. I’d met too many bad people from all classes to not recognize one. He could be prone to recklessness and indulged in the pleasures of life a bit too much. He was known to be a holy terror if crossed, was obviously spoiled, and, being a caelestia, was expectedly self-centered. Rarely had a single wrinkle of worry creased the Baron’s alabaster skin.

But that had changed in recent months. His coffers weren’t as full. The abhorrent chairs and gold decor Claude insisted on, the near-nightly parties and celebrations he seemed to need to survive, likely had something to do with this. Though that wasn’t entirely fair. Yes, Claude wanted to host these parties, but it was also required of him— of all barons. Many types of pleasure were found at these gatherings, be it through drink, food, conversation, or what usually happened later in the night.

“No,” I said, smiling. “But it’s kind of you to offer.”

The bright lights of the chandelier glinted off the skin along his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. There was a dusting of gold shimmer there. It wasn’t some sort of facial paint. It was simply his skin. Caelestias glimmered.

Eyes a lovely shade of sea-glass blue searched mine. Everything about Claude was lovely. His perfectly manicured, smooth hands and coiffed, inky hair. He was slim and tall, built perfectly for whatever fashion the aristo were currently obsessed with, and when he smiled, he could be devastating.

And for a little while, I liked being devastated by that smile. It didn’t hurt that Claude, being a caelestia, had always been extremely difficult for me to sense. My abilities didn’t immediately snap into action around him. I could touch him, if only for a little bit.

“But you haven’t drunk much of your wine,” he observed.

Laughter and conversation droned on around us as I glanced at the chalice. The wine was the color of the lavender that grew in the gardens of Archwood and tasted of sweetened berries. It was tasty, and imbibing wine was welcomed and even expected. After all, there was a pleasure in drinking alcohol, but it also dulled my abilities. More importantly, I knew the truth of why I was the Baron’s favorite paramour.

It wasn’t my stunning odd attractiveness or my personality. The Baron kept me and Grady sheltered, fed, and well taken care of because of my abilities and how useful they could be to him, and I was terrified that the moment I no longer served a purpose was the moment Grady and I would be back on the streets, barely scraping by and living on the edge of death.

Which wasn’t living at all.

“It’s fine,” I assured him, taking a very small sip of the wine as I turned my attention back to those below the dais. The gold-adorned Great Chamber was full of the aristo— the wealthy shippers and shop owners, the bankers and landowners. No one was masked. It wasn’t that kind of party. Yet. I searched for Naomi among those below, having lost sight of her earlier.

“Pet?” Claude called softly.

I faced him once more. He bent at the waist, extending his hand. Behind us, his personal guards kept their eyes on the crowd. All except Grady. I caught a quick glimpse of the brown skin of his jaw tightening. Grady wasn’t exactly a fan of the Baron and this arrangement. My gaze returned to the Baron.

Claude smiled.

Bracing a hand on the velvet pillow I sat on, I leaned closer and placed my chin in his hand. His fingers were cool like always. So were his lips as he lowered his head and kissed me. I felt only a little flutter in my stomach. I used to feel more, back when I thought his attentiveness was born of want of me.

Which was why Grady didn’t like this arrangement.

If Claude showered me with attention because he wanted me for, well, me, Grady wouldn’t care at all. He just thought I deserved more. Better. And it wasn’t like I didn’t think I did too, but more and better were hard to come by for anyone these days. Having a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, and safety and security always trumped better and more.

His mouth lifted from mine. “You worry me.”

“Why?”

He dragged a thumb just below my lower lip, careful to not smear the red paint. “You’re quiet.”

How could I not be when I sat upon the dais with no one but him and Hymel within speaking distance? Claude had been chatting with everyone under the sun this evening, and I’d rather cut my own tongue out than speak to Hymel. Seriously. I’d cut my tongue out and throw it at him first. “I think I’m just tired.”

“What has you so tired?” he asked, tone ringing with just that right amount of concern.

“I didn’t sleep well.” A nightmare of the past had woken me last night, one that had been a haunting walk down memory lane. I’d dreamt that we’d been back on the streets, and Grady had been sick with that body-rattling cough. The one I could still clearly hear all these years later. I had that nightmare a lot, but last night . . . it had been too real.

Which was why I’d spent most of the day tending to the flower garden I’d made for myself. I’d barely had time to grab something to eat between that and preparing for my presence in the Great Chamber, but in that little garden, I didn’t think about the very real past, the nightmares, or the fear that all of this could end at any moment.

One dark brow rose in response. “Is that truly all that it is?”

I nodded.

He slid his hand to my hair, fixing one of the strings of diamonds. “I was beginning to fear that you were jealous.”

I stared at him, confused.

“I know I’ve been paying a lot of attention to the others of late,” he said, fixing another string as he glanced out to the crowd, likely at the fair-haired Allyson. “I was worried you were beginning to feel unappreciated.”

My brows inched up my forehead. “Seriously?”

He frowned. “Yes.”

I continued to stare at him, slow to realize he was being truthful. A laugh bubbled up, but I squelched it. I couldn’t even remember the last time Claude had done more than give me a quick kiss or pat on the rear, and I was completely okay with that.

Mostly.

While I felt little real attraction toward him these days, I did enjoy being touched. Desired. Wanted. I enjoyed touching, even if it was for only a few minutes. And even though Claude had no boundaries set upon his paramours, things were a bit more complicated for me. I was more like an advisor . . . or a spy he sometimes showed attention to.

“I’ve been told you haven’t been sleeping in anyone else’s quarters,” he added.

Irritation flashed through me. I didn’t appreciate the idea of him having anyone keep an eye on me, but it was also a rather irrelevant observation.

Claude knew exactly how difficult it was for me to be intimate with others. How uncomfortable it made me if they were unaware of, well, the risks of me touching them without dulling my senses with what felt like my body weight in liquor. And not being able to remember having sex or hoping that it was enjoyable was as disquieting as seeing or hearings things I shouldn’t. Maybe even more so.

However, Claude also routinely forgot what didn’t directly involve him.

“I don’t want you to be lonely,” he said, and he meant it.

That’s why I smiled at him. “I’m not.”

Claude was quick to return my smile and lean away, turning his attention back to whatever. I’d given him what he wanted. Reassurance that I was happy. He sought that because he cared, but also because he was afraid if I wasn’t, I’d leave. But what I’d given him was a lie. Because I was—

I stopped myself as if that could somehow change how I felt.

I grabbed the chalice, drinking half of the wine in one gulp as I stared at the gold crevices etched into the marble floors. My mind went quiet, only for a few seconds, but that was all it took for the hum of voices to ratchet up. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and held it until I severed all those unseen strings as they began to form in my mind.

After several moments, I exhaled softly and opened my eyes. My gaze flicked out over the crush, the faces a blur and my mind my own.

In front of me, Hymel leaned against the dais. He glanced back at me, the mouth framed by a neat beard twisted into a sneer. “Is there anything you’re in need of, pet?”

My expression showed nothing as I returned Hymel’s stare. I didn’t like the man, and the only reason Claude tolerated him was because he was family and because he took care of the more unsavory tasks of running a city. For example, Hymel enjoyed being sent to collect rent, especially if payments couldn’t be made. He was unnecessarily hard on the guards and taunted me whenever he got the chance.

He wanted me to respond to him as I did when others stoked my temper. I had what Hymel called “a mouth” on me. However, I’d learned to keep that mouth in check. Well, about ninety percent of the time. But when I was really mad? Or really nervous or scared? It was the only defense I had.

Except, come to think of it, it wasn’t really a defense. It was more like a self-destructive tendency, because it always, always got me in trouble.

Anyway, Naomi once told me it was because he had problems performing in bed, unable to find release. I didn’t know if that was true or not, and I found it ironic that such a being could have such difficulties, but caelestias were as close to mortal as any Hyhborn could be. They didn’t get as sick as often and were physically stronger. They didn’t need to feed as Deminyens did, but they weren’t immune to diseases. Either way, I doubted that was the driving force behind Hymel’s meanness, or the only one, but I did know one thing about him for sure.

Hymel was a particular kind of cruel, and that was what he got off on.

He smirked. “You’re like a favored hound, you know that, right?” His voice was low enough that only I could hear him, since Claude had turned his attention to one of his cronies. “The way he has you seated by his feet.”

I did know that.

But I’d rather be a favored hound than a starving, dying one.

Hymel wouldn’t understand that, though. Those who never had to worry about when their bellies would be full again or if those rats scurrying through their hair at night carried diseases had no idea what one would do to keep fed and sheltered.

Therefore, his opinions and those of others like him meant nothing to me.

So I smiled, lifting the chalice to my lips, and took another, much smaller drink.

Hymel’s eyes narrowed, but then he turned from me. He stiffened. I followed his stare. A tall man dressed in finery walked out of the crowd. I recognized him.

Ellis Ramsey approached the dais, heading for the Baron. The shipping magnate from the neighboring town of Newmarsh stopped to bow deeply before the Baron. “Good evening, Baron Huntington.”

Claude nodded in acknowledgment as he extended his arm toward one of the empty chairs to his other side. “Would you care for some wine?”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I don’t want to take up too much of your time tonight.” Ramsey gave a tight smile that did nothing to ease the harshness of his grizzled features as he took the seat. “I have news.”

“Of?” Claude murmured, glancing at me. It was quick, but I saw.

“The Westlands,” he said. “There’s been a . . . development.”

“And what would that be?” Claude asked.

Ramsey leaned toward the Baron. “There are rumors that the Westlands’ Court is at odds with the King.”

My little old ears perked right up as I lowered my chalice and opened my senses. In a room of so many people, I had to be careful not to be overwhelmed. I focused only on Ramsey, creating this imaginary string in my mind— a cord that connected me directly with him. Thoughts could be hard to make sense of— sometimes I heard more of a collection of words that either matched what one spoke or were something completely different. Either way, it always took me a moment to gain my bearings, to decipher what I was hearing out loud and what wasn’t being spoken.

“I have little interest in rumors,” Claude replied.

“I think you will in this one.” Ramsey’s voice lowered as I heard I doubt you have interest in anything that doesn’t spread its legs and isn’t wet. I rolled my eyes. “Two chancellors were sent to Visalia on behalf of the King,” Ramsey reported, speaking of the lowborn messengers who acted as go-betweens for the King and the five Courts. “There appeared to be a problem with their visit, as they were sent back to His Majesty . . .” The magnate allowed a dramatic pause. “In pieces.”

I was barely able to smother my gasp. I would consider being sent anywhere in pieces to be more than a problem.

“Well, that’s concerning.” Claude took a deep drink of his wine.

“There’s more.”

Claude’s grip tightened on his glass. “Can’t wait to hear.”

“The Princess of Visalia has been amassing a substantial presence along the border between the Westlands and Midlands,” Ramsey shared, his thoughts reflecting what he spoke. “More rumors, but ones also believed to be true.”

“And this substantial presence?” Claude looked out over the crowd below him. “Are we speaking of her battalion?”

“Hers and the Iron Knights is what I’m hearing.” Ramsey shifted, dropping a large hand to his knee.

Surprise flickered through me as I set the chalice on the tray. The Iron Knights, a group of rebellious lowborn who were more like raiders than actual knights, had been causing problems throughout the border towns in the Midlands and Lowlands for the last year. From what I knew, they wanted to see the Hyhborn king replaced with a lowborn one, and even though I didn’t pay much mind to politics unless I had to, I knew they were gaining support throughout Caelum. It was kind of hard not to when I knew people who believed that Vayne Beylen— the Commander of the Iron Knights— could change the realm for the better, but I didn’t see how that would be possible if they were joining forces with the Westlands’ Hyhborn.

Claude drew his thumb over his chin. “And have they crossed into the Midlands?”

“Not that I have heard.”

“What about Beylen?” Claude asked. “Has he been spotted?”

“That is another thing I cannot answer,” Ramsey said, while thinking, If that bastard is spotted, he’ll be a dead one. Something about that thought was disquieting, because it was almost as if Beylen’s death would be upsetting. The Iron Knights were gaining traction among lowborn, but usually the wealthy ones didn’t want to see the Iron Knight succeed. Doing so jeopardized the status quo. “But Archwood is quite the distance from the border. There will be at least a warning if the Iron Knights do move into our lands, but if they travel past the border towns? This would no longer be a rebellion.”

“No,” Claude murmured. “It would be an act of war.”

My chest felt far too tight as I severed the connection I’d forged with the magnate. I glanced at Grady, then to the crowd. There had been no wars, not since the Great War that took place four centuries ago and left nearly nothing of the realm behind.

“I do not think it will come to that,” Ramsey said.

“Nor do I.” Claude nodded slowly. “Thank you for the information.” He leaned back in his chair. “I would keep this quiet until we know more for sure, lest we have a panic on our hands.”

“Agreed.”

The Baron was silent as Ramsey rose and descended the dais. The shipping magnate was no longer visible in the crowd when Claude turned his attention toward me. “What do you know?”

And here was the crux of our arrangement. How I benefited him. Sometimes it was learning of another’s future or listening in on the thoughts of another baron, if they were up to something or if they came to Archwood in good faith. There were times when it required a more . . . hands-on approach for me to know.

But not this time.

As soon as he asked his question, a chill moved through me. The coldness settled in the center of my shoulder blades. My stomach hollowed as I reached beneath my heavy length of dark hair and touched the space behind my left ear, where it felt like someone had pressed a cold kiss. The voice among my thoughts spoke a warning.

He’s coming.