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Hymel’s dark brows rose. “He’s not here.”
My lips pursed. “I can see that. Do you know where he is?”
“Last I knew, he was in his quarters, but I’m not his keeper.”
“Clearly,” I muttered. “He’s not there. I’ve checked twice.”
“Then he’s probably with the Bowers.” Hymel leaned back in the chair, looking mighty comfortable where he didn’t belong. “And he’s likely on a bender with it being the start of the Feasts tonight— well, at midnight.”
“And because of that, shouldn’t he be here and not off someplace else?”
“One would think that,” Hymel stated dryly. “But this is Claude we’re talking about. Last Feasts, he spent half of them hallucinating winged creatures in some abandoned mine with the Bower brothers.”
That sounded so bizarre it had to be true. “So, there’s a chance he won’t show for the start?”
Hymel shrugged. “Possibly. He hasn’t before.”
And I wouldn’t know that since I never saw him during the Feasts.
“Considering the mood he was in when I last saw him, I’m thinking he’ll probably be seeing winged beasts once more.”
My chest tightened. “What do you mean about his mood?”
“He’s been morose since the meeting with the Prince of Vytrus.” Hymel picked up a paperweight carved from obsidian. “After he apparently agreed to give you to the Prince.”
My mouth dropped open. “He did not give me to the Prince,” I said, and I doubted that was what caused Claude to be depressed. He’d been relieved by it. “And I saw him after that. He didn’t appear bothered.” At least not until we’d started to talk.
“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 theluneadagger 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.
