Page 4 of Fall of Ruin and Wrath

And Iknew.

The Lord drew back, the pupils shrinking to a normal size and the white specks disappearing. “No,” he said, his gaze flicking to my arms, exposed by the too-big sweater I wore. “She is clear.”

He dropped my chin.

I scooted back across the blanket, twisting to Grady. He was still suspended there, motionless and empty. “P-Please,” I whispered.

“Release him,” the Lord said.

Lord Samriel did so with a sigh, and life returned to Grady that very second. The pallor faded from his skin as I scrabbled across the twisted blankets, throwing my arms around him. As I held on to his trembling body, my gaze inched back to the Hyhborn lord who had stars in his eyes.

He remained where he was, still crouched and staring at me— staring at my arms as Lord Samriel stalked past him, heading to the entrance. My fingers dug into the thin sweater along Grady’s back.

“Your arms,” he asked, his voice so low this time I wasn’t sure I saw his lips move. “How did that happen?”

I didn’t know why he asked or cared, and I knew better than to say who had done it, but I looked at the Mister and nodded.

The Lord eyed me for a moment longer, lifted his fingers to lips that had curved into a faint half smile, and then rose to an impossible height.

The chamber went dark once more, and the heavy silence returned, but I wasn’t afraid this time.

A sharp, swift cry tore through the darkness, ending abruptly in a wet, crunching sound. I jerked as something heavy hit the floor.

The quiet came again, and all at once, the heaviness seeped out of the room as the very air itself seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. The lanterns along the wall flickered to life, one after the other. The fire surged in the hearth, spitting and hissing.

By the door, the Mister was lying in a puddle of his own blood, his body broken and twisted. Someone screamed. Cots creaked as the others clambered from them, but I didn’t move. I stared at the empty doorway,knowingI would see the Hyhborn lord again.

CHAPTER 1

“Do you have a moment, Lis?”

Looking up from the chamomile I’d been grinding into a powder for Baron Huntington’s teas, I saw Naomi standing in the doorway of my chamber. The brunette was already dressed for the evening; the gossamer of her gown would’ve been completely transparent if not for the fabric’s strategically placed panels in a deep shade of cerulean.

The Baron of Archwood led, well, an unorthodox life compared to most mortals, but then again, Claude wasn’t just a mortal. He was acaelestia— a mortal that descended from the rare joining of a lowborn and Hyhborn.Caelestiaswere born andcaelestiasaged, just like us lowborn, and at twenty-six, Claude had no plans to marry. Instead, he preferred to spread his affection upon many. He, much like the Hyhborn, was a collector of anything beautiful and unique. And one would be unwise if one thought to compare oneself to any of the Baron’s paramours, but it was doubly foolish to measure oneself against Naomi.

With her glossy hair and delicate features, she was utterly breathtaking.

I, on the other hand, happened to look like someone had taken different traits from other people and pieced them together on my face. My small mouth didn’t match the natural pucker of my lips. My too-round, too-big eyes seemed to take up the entirety of my face, giving me the appearance of looking far more innocent than I was. That had come in handy more than once while I was on the streets, but I thought that I vaguely resembled those creepy dolls I’d seen in shopwindows, except with golden-olive skin instead of porcelain.

The Baron once told me I was interesting to look upon— “stunning” in an odd sort of way— but even if that weren’t so, I would still be his most favored, the one he kept close to him, and that had nothing to do with my odd attractiveness.

Tension crept into my shoulders as I shifted on the settee and nodded. Dragging my teeth over my lower lip, I watched her close the door and cross the sitting area of my quarters— myprivatequarters.

Gods, at twenty-two years of age, I’d been here for . . . for six years. Long enough for me not to be shocked by the knowledge that I had my own space, my own rooms with electricity and hot water, something that many places in the kingdom didn’t have. I had my own bed— an actual bed and not a pile of flat blankets or a mattress made of flea-infested straw— but I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.

I focused on Naomi. She was behaving strangely, repeatedly clasping her hands together and releasing them. Naomi was nervous, and I had never known her to be such.

“What do you need?” I asked, even though I had a feeling— no, Iknewexactly what she wanted. Why she was nervous.

“I . . . I wanted to talk to you about my sister,” she began— tentatively, and Naomi was never tentative in anything she did. There were few who were as brave and bold as her. “Laurelin has been unwell.”

My chest squeezed as my gaze returned to the bowl in my lap and the yellowish-brown powder within. This was what I’d dreaded.

Her sister had married a wealthy landowner above her so-called station in life. A union heralded as a true love match, something I would’ve normally scoffed at, but it was true. Laurelin was the rarity in a world where most married for convenience, opportunity, or security.

But what did love really do for anyone? Even her? It hadn’t stopped her husband from wanting a son even though Laurelin’s last birth had nearly taken her life. So she kept trying, no matter the risk.

He’d gotten his son now, and Laurelin had been struck with the fever that had taken so many after birth.