Claude wasn’t in his study.
His cousin was.
Hymel’s head jerked up from where he sat behind the Baron’s desk, slips of paper in his hand.
Something isn’t right.
“What are you doing in here?” I blurted out.
The splash of surprise quickly faded from his features. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m going through the stack of letters.” He lifted the parchments he held. “Which happen to be notices from debtors, namely the Royal Bank.”
My stomach sank as I glanced at the ever-growing stack. “What do they want?”
He looked at me as if I had asked the silliest question, and I had.
“How late is he?” I asked. “And does he have the coin to settle his debts?”
“Not too late,” Hymel answered, tossing the parchments onto the desk. “And there’s enough coin. Or will be.” He looked up at me. “What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for Claude,” I said, deciding that the prevalent financial issues were something I was going to have to stress over later. “I can’t find him.”
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.”