Page 144 of Fall of Ruin and Wrath

“Then you should be back in time for the Feasts,” I said.

“I should be.”

Some of the pleasant haze faded as the reality of what was to come resurfaced. “How long do you think it will be before the Westlands or the Iron Knights reach Archwood?”

“That I cannot answer for sure, but I suspect it will be before the month’s end.”

My stomach hollowed as I drew the pads of my fingers over the chiseled lines of his chest.

“Leave with me.”

“What?” I blinked open my eyes.

The blue and green of his eyes swirled into the brown. “Come with me when I leave to meet with the armies.”

My breath snagged on the wordyes,but I stopped it from escaping. Anticipation swelled at the prospect of traveling with him, of being with him,at his side,but that . . . that felt likemore.Dangerously so. I swallowed, closing my eyes. “I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Probably not,” he said, then fell quiet for several moments. “Will you have dinner with me then, when I return?”

“You’re actually asking if I will?” A tired smile tugged at my lips as I struggled to ignore the disappointment with myself— with him for not pushing that I go with him, which was entirely messed up.

“Is that not what you want from me?”

I shouldn’t want anything from him. “Yes.”

His thumb swept over the peak of my breast. “Then will you?” “Yes.”

Thorne was quiet for a moment, and then I felt his lips against my cheek. “Thank you.”

A tripping motion went through my chest. Any Hyhborn, let alone a prince, expressing gratitude was, well, unheard of, and I didn’t know what to do with that as I lay there, the Prince eventually slipping into sleep.

But I stayed awake, my fingers resting against his chest. I didn’t know why in those quiet, dark moments I thought of the premonition I had in the Great Chamber when Ramsey Ellis had come to the Baron with news of the Westlands.

He’s coming.

I knew that premonition had been about Thorne.

That he came for what is his.

That was what Maven had said, and I knew that when Thorne had been here before, he had been searching for something.

Or someone.

A light touch to my cheek woke me. I opened my eyes to the faint rays of dawn glancing off the cut of Thorne’s jaw and the golden hilt of the dagger strapped to his chest. It was morning, and that meant . . .

“You’re leaving?” I whispered, voice heavy with sleep.

Thorne nodded. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, thick lashes lowered as he drew his fingers along my chin.

“It’s okay.” I started to sit up.

“No, stay. I like the idea of you being here, in the bed I’ve slept in,” he told me, his brows furrowing. A moment passed, and those lashes lifted. His gaze slipped over my face, lingering on my . . . my lips.

Though I was only half awake, my pulse started to pound. I thought he looked at me like he . . . like he wanted to kiss me.

I wanted him to kiss me.

I wanted to kiss him.

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