Chapter 33

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.

I bit on my lip, fighting a grin. “Thank you for the invitation, but it looks like you already have your hands full.”

One of the women giggled. “He does, but our hands?” She shared a glance with the dark-haired one. “Are not quite as full.”

Interest sparked as the man chuckled, leaning in to kiss the shorter woman on her cheek, the one who spoke. I opened my senses just a little. They . . . they were a couple. The three of them.

What a lucky man.

“I’m on the way to meet someone,” I lied. “But I wish you good Feasts.”

“What a shame,” the man murmured, bowing elaborately. “Happy Feasts.”

I murmured the same, hanging back as the trio moved farther down the path. Then I kept walking, this time following two sōls circling one another as my mind alternated between the vision, what Maven had shared, and Claude’s disappearance. My thoughts strayed, though, to him. It was kind of hard for them not to when I was in the gardens, and the breeze stirred up the scent of catmint.

Would Thorne return tomorrow? Then what? I would be his? But wasn’t I already—

“Stop,” I whispered, refusing to let that thought even finish. My stomach tumbled nonetheless as I shook my head.

The only thing that I needed to think about that concerned Thorne was telling him about having met before.

As I neared the wisteria trees, I stopped and looked up. Stars blanketed the sky. It was such a . . . a strange coincidence that all of this was happening at the same time.

Thorne’s sudden appearance, fulfilling a twelve-year-old premonition. My near-visceral reaction to him. His interest in me that he couldn’t explain and that I felt went beyond him not realizing we’d met before. My intuition stopping me from telling him. The Princess of Visalia and the Westlands’ Iron Knights making a move on Archwood. Learning that lowborn could descend from Hyhborn. Claude’s absence. The vision. Hymel. That smiling lord who resembled Lord Samriel. All of it happening at the same time, and I . . .

I didn’t believe in coincidences.

Or fate.

I lowered my gaze to the still lilac blossoms. A faint tingle danced at the nape of my neck and then between my shoulder blades. Like a slumbering giant, my intuition sparked.

Everything is related.

All of it.

A warning.

A reckoning.

A promise of what was to come—

Pools of blood. Rivers of it streaming between still limbs, seeping into gold veining. Bare arms with deep gouges. So many of them, their mouths gaping open in frozen, silent horror. Brocade and jewel-encrusted masks torn, strewn across the floor. Silver and sapphire drenched in blood.And this time there were screams. Screams of pain. Screams of death—

I jerked out of the vision just as the wisteria limbs began to shudder, swaying in the absence of any sort of breeze.

Breath catching, I took a step back. A shiver coursed down my spine as tiny bumps prickled my skin. Hair along the nape of my neck rose as an icy, unnatural energy built in the air. I looked up to see what looked like dark clouds gathering in the sky, blotting out the stars.

My muscles seized for a moment and then instinct kicked in, fueled by the heightened sense of intuition. I spun and took off, running faster than I ever had through the maze of pathways as the streams of moonlight faded and disappeared.

Something is coming.

I could feel it building in the air— in the sudden silence and growing darkness— and I didn’t think what was filling the sky was clouds. Every part of my being was focused on finding Grady, and I didn’t dare waste time by going for the bridge. Knowing the levels were low this time of year, I half slipped, half ran down the muddy bank. Water splashed as I stomped through the shallow stream, losing a shoe in the process. I kept going, reaching the other side, the hem of my gown soaked and clinging to my legs. I climbed the short hill, swallowing a cry as sharp rock cut through the thin sole of my remaining shoe, slicing into my skin.

I didn’t let that slow me down. I flew across the lawn, startling many of those who were on the ground, their bodies pressed tightly together.

“Get inside,” I screamed, dodging others who were rising to look at the sky. “Get inside now!”

I had no idea if anyone was listening as I stumbled, nearly falling. Had Naomi listened to me? I hadn’t seen her all day, and gods, I hoped so, but my heart lurched, because I still saw that bloodied sapphire necklace.

Panting, I raced up the wide steps of the Baron’s manor, and I was mere inches from the doors when the clouds fell from the sky in a chorus of wings beating at the air.

Then the screams of pain— the screams of death— began.