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A series of tingles ran along the back of my head as images flooded my mind— horrific images of Hymel taking his own sword, impaling himself on it. My grip tightened on his arm. A coldness ramped up inside me. An energy. A power. What I saw was no future set in stone. It was what I wished to make Hymel do—
I dropped his arm, taking a step back. My heart thumped unsteadily.
Hymel eyed me for several seconds. “It’s funny, you know? You. Your abilities. One touch and you can know a person’s name and their desires. Their future. Even how they die.” His lips curved into a smirk behind the neatly trimmed beard. “And yet, you don’t know shit.”
“Maybe,” I said softly. “But I do know how you die.”
He went rigid.
“Do you want to know?” I smiled at him. “It’s not pleasant.”
Inhaling sharply, Hymel took a step toward me, but stopped himself. Without another word, he pivoted and stalked out of the chamber.
“Okay then,” I murmured, glancing down at my wrist. The skin was already turning red. “What an asshole.”
But so was I.
I’d lied. I’d never touched Hymel or pushed hard enough to see his future. I had no idea how he died. And because karma was about as real as the idea of fate, he’d probably outlive us all.
I left the Baron’s study, and it wasn’t until I was halfway to my quarters, while I pictured myself repeatedly kicking Hymel between the legs, when something about Claude struck me. It brought me to a complete stop by the windows facing the stables.
Claude hadn’t asked what Prince Thorne had been searching for information on butwho.
I paced the length of my quarters, thinking over what Claude had said. It was likely just a slip of the tongue, saying who when he meant what, but . . .
My intuition told me that wasn’t the case.
But what could it even mean— if Claude knew that the Prince had been in search of information on someone? Why did that matter?
My intuition was no help there.
What I really needed to be stressed about was how I was supposed to be of aid to the Baron when he spoke with Prince Thorne. My stomach twisted as I all but stomped into my bedchamber. The lazy churn of the ceiling fan kept the room cool, but it was still far too warm. I undid the buttons of my bodice and shimmied out of the gown. I left it on the floor, too tired and, well, too lazy to hang it up.
Dressed only in a thigh-length chemise, I plopped down on the bed and lay flat on my back, resting my aching wrist on my stomach. I tentatively turned it. It was definitely going to turn a lovely shade of blue by the day’s end, but it wasn’t sprained or broken.
Iwaslucky for that.
There had been times in the past, when I’d been caught stealing food or being where I wasn’t supposed to be, when I hadn’t been so lucky.
I stared at the ceiling, thoughts returning to this supper. I couldn’t read the Prince. Unless I cracked the shield. Something that Claude seemed to think I could do, and I wasn’t sure if that was because I’d led him to believe that or if he already knew.
Gods, maybe I should’ve just told the truth. Too late now. Now, I was just going to have to . . . figure something out.
I snorted, wanting to smack some better life choices into myself, because it was unlikely that I would think of something less idiotic than lying.
Gods, I was going to be seeing him again.
An edgy nervousness swept through me. It wasn’t a bad feeling, nothing like the anxiety of dread. It felt a lot like . . . like anticipation, and that did worry me. I had no business being excited when it came to any Hyhborn, especially one such as the Prince of Vytrus. Even if I hadn’t seen him incinerate a Hyhborn with his hand or rip out a lowborn’s throat, the very last thing I should feel was anticipation.
Any interaction with a Hyhborn was potentially dangerous when they could learn of my abilities and assume I was a practitioner of bone magic. Especially within Archwood Manor, where there were one too many who knew of my gifts. What I should be anticipating was the moment the Prince left Archwood.
But I wasn’t.
Maybe Hymel had been somewhat right, and I’d had the common sensefingeredout of me.
Sighing, my mind found its way back to Claude. I thought back to the first time I’d met him, and how his features had turned from anger to surprise as I warned him about the man who was set on robbing him.
But that surprise hadn’t lasted long. He didn’t doubt or question what I told him like many did when I first warned them about something. He’d simply accepted that what I knew was true. He wasn’t the first to do that, but he was definitely the first aristo that believed me without question. Maybe that should have raised some questions, but I was just too damn grateful when Claude showed his appreciation by offering a place to work and stay, not just for me but also for Grady. I wanted a warm, safe bed and I didn’t want to have to steal stale bread to not starve. I didn’t want to ever again have to watch Grady sicken and have there be nothing I could do to help him.
