Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
“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.