Page 153 of Fall of Ruin and Wrath

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, thesolsdrifting 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 thesolsdip 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 twosolscircling one another as my mind alternated between the vision, what Maven had shared, and Claude’s disappearance. My thoughts strayed, though, tohim.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—