Page 159 of Fall of Ruin and Wrath

Grady strode forward, his hand around the hilt of his sword. His steps slowed. “Sweet mercy.”

I crept forward as Allyson cried out, smacking her hand over her mouth. She stumbled back, pressing against the wall. I told myself not to, but I joined Grady at the chest-high window and regretted it at once.

The moon was no longer blocked. Silvery light flooded the manor grounds. Bodies were strewn about the lawn, being . . . being picked at by a few loneni’meres.

My stomach churned with nausea, but I couldn’t look away from the horrifying and grotesque display. I’d only ever seen ani’mereonce before and at a distance. I’d been a child then, but they were no less terrifying now than they were then, with their feathered bodies that were vaguely mortal-like, and their faces a palish-gray shade. Their yellow eyes were nearly iridescent, a shade of gold that matched the streaks cutting through their onyx-hued wings and their long, straggly hair. Their teeth . . .

They were pointed, as razor-sharp as any beak or talon would be, and yet their features were delicate. Pretty even, if not for the ghastly shade of skin and the blood smearing their lips and chins.

I dragged my stare from them. Beyond theni’mereswas a wholly different sight. Archwood Manor sat atop a hill, and on sunny days, the sun glinted off the tops of the walls surrounding Primvera. Tonight, the entire horizon was lit in a golden glow. Primverawasburning.

“Shit,” Grady cursed, jerking back. “The Rae. Get down.”

I crouched beside Grady, stomach knotting. “If there’s Rae . . .”

“Then there are princes near,” he finished, his eyes briefly meeting mine.

“ ‘Prince Rainer will be joining us for the Feasts,’ ” I whispered. “That’s what Hymel said.”

Grady’s jaw clenched. “Your prince decided to leave at one hell of a time, didn’t he?”

“He’s not my prince,” I retorted.

“We should try to keep going,” Milton said from where he was crouched farther down the hall. “How far do we have to go?”

Grady rose halfway, keeping himself below the window. “At the end of the hall. Just keep low to the floor.”

“End of the hall” felt like it was in a wholly different realm. “It’s the second-to-the-last door . . .” I trailed off as a tingle of awareness erupted between my shoulder blades and traveled up the nape of my neck. Tiny goose bumps spread across my bare arms, and there was a strange warmth in my . . . in my chest even though the temperature had dropped, just as it had in the gardens. The hair along the nape of my neck rose. I lifted my gaze to the window above me as I rubbed my chest.

“Lis?” Grady called out quietly. “What is it?”

“I . . .” Intuition was guiding me as I reached up, gripping the bottom of the windowsill.

“Shouldn’t we be hurrying?” Milton hissed.

We should be.

But there was something I needed to see. I rose just high enough to peer over the ledge of the window.

Rae rode past on horses shrouded in black cloth; the wispy mist seeping from openings in their cloaks trailed down the sides of their horses, spilling upon the ground like fog. There had to be well over two dozen of them. Warning bells started to ring throughout me when the Hyhborn rode forward on large reddish-brown steeds draped in indigo banners that bore a crimson insignia of what resembled several interlocking knots. I’d seen the sigil before. It was the Royal Crest and represented all the territories joined to form one.

If this was the Westlands or the Iron Knights, would they ride into battle bearing the sigil of the king they sought to overthrow? I didn’t think so. But if it was the King, why would he have Primvera destroyed? Unless he believed Primvera would be a loss too?

A flash of silvery white in the moonlight drew my gaze. Hair. Long blond hair so pale it was nearly white. Paler than the hair of the lord I’d seen in the Great Chamber.

I recognized him.

Even though I’d been too scared as a child to look him the face, I knew it was him.

“Grady,” I whispered.“Look.”

He turned from me, rising slightly.

“You see him?”

“Yeah,” he spat between gritted teeth. “Lord Samriel.”

CHAPTER 35

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