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Disbelief coursed through me. “You’re suggesting that Claude ran away? That he abandoned his home? His people— ”

“You? Gods damn, that is exactly what I’m suggesting. The fucker is a coward who has always been more concerned with getting off and getting drunk or high than he ever has running Archwood. He never should’ve been baron. You’d be lying if you didn’t agree with that.”

The thing was, I couldn’t disagree. Claude was terribly irresponsible, but reckless enough to run? Gods, I knew the answer to that. It wasn’t impossible.

“If he was here, though? If I could find him, he would be dead,” Hymel said. “I would’ve slit his fucking throat myself.”

And I knew he spoke the truth then. I could see it in those pale eyes that were full of so much hate and bitterness.

“Gods,” I whispered, wanting to be angry with Claude, but damn it, I couldn’t help but be relieved. At least he wasn’t here. He was alive.

And if I ever saw him again, I’d punch him too.

“So, what? Is that what this is about?” I asked, staring into his eyes as I opened my senses. Intuition shuddered through me. “You think you should be baron, and you helped orchestrate this so you can take the title?”

“Get the fuck out of my head.”

Disgust flooded me. “You did this because of your own envy? Do you know how many people died tonight?”

“Would’ve been more if it weren’t for me,” he said. “If the King learned of you, and came for you, while the Prince of Vytrus was here? The whole fucking city would be gone. Instead, I’ve saved people tonight. Not only that, I saved the title and the manor from going bankrupt. Those debtors? They need to be paid, and you? You’re going to bring in enough coin that every debt Claude has racked up will be paid and then some. So, yeah, I should’ve been the fucking baron.”

I stared at him. He didn’t know the King wanted Archwood wiped off the map anyway. I shook my head. “You’re a fool.”

“You really think that? You don’t know anything.” He pushed off me and rose. Lifting a hand to his cheek, he wiped away the faint trickle of blood from where I scratched him. “Fucking bitch,” he muttered.

I sat up, clutching the edge of the cushion. “You didn’t tell them I could read thoughts, did you?”

“No.” He glanced at the door.

“Why?” When he didn’t say anything, it occurred to me. “It’s because you don’t trust the Hyhborn, do you? You were hoping I would listen in on their thoughts and warn you if they were planning to betray you?”

Hymel didn’t answer, so I rose. He hadn’t gone far, and when he faced me, he likely thought I was about to hit him again. He lifted a hand, but I wasn’t about to strike him. Instead, I grasped his hand with my senses wide open and I pushed,shatteringthat shield.

I didn’t see or hear the answer to my question.

I saw something else entirely.

Ifeltit.

A laugh parted my lips, spilling out from me.

Hymel jerked his hand free, backing up as he stared at me. “What did you see?” The skin above his beard paled. “What did you see?” He took a step toward me—

The door behind him opened then, stopping him. My gaze lifted, and my laugh died on my lips. The sight of the cloaked Rae waiting in the hall sent my heart racing, but what came into the chamber behind Hymel caused me to take a step back.

The too-shallow breath I took felt heavier, thicker, and tasted of . . . of something I hadn’t thought about in years— mints the Prioress used to keep in the pockets of her robes. Power suddenly drenched the air, seeping along the walls and across the floor, soaking every nook and cranny of the space. My skin danced with static.

Cloaked shoulders almost too wide to fit filled the entrance; the male was so tall he had to dip his head to step through the door-frame. He straightened, revealing sculpted, sharp features, and hair a light, silvery blond.

I recognized him.

It was the Hyhborn I’d seen in the Great Chamber, earlier this evening. He’d looked at me and hadsmiled.The one I thought looked so much like Lord Samriel, and he did. His hair was shorter, though, reaching his shoulders, and his face even thinner, crescent-shaped.

“Lord Arion.” Hymel bowed quickly.

I would swear theluneablade heated in its sheath as I took another step back.

“So this is her?” Lord Arion asked, his appraisal cooler than Lord Samriel’s.

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