Chapter 36

CHAPTER 36

Thrown by what Prince Rohan had said, I was barely aware of Hymel leading Lord Samriel to my quarters. There was no way what the Prince had said was true. I wasn’t Thorne’s to kill. He wasn’t a threat to me. I wasn’t scared of him. I felt safe with him.

But Hyhborn couldn’t lie.

They could kill, though.

My chest hollowed as I walked, the slice along the bottom of my foot a dull burn. Everywhere I looked, no matter how quickly I averted my gaze and despite the fact that Hymel took us through the staff halls, I saw bodies. I saw blood streaking the floor and pooling in the crevices. When we reached the hall to my chambers, it was devoid of gore and bloodshed. If not for the faint smell of burning wood, one could almost pretend that such violence hadn’t touched us, but I could still hear the moans and whimpers, and distant screams.

My vision had come to fruition, but it hadn’t encapsulated the true horror of what had come to pass.

Lord Samriel ushered me into the chambers after Hymel opened the doors. Hymel started to follow, but the Lord held up his hand. “Leave us.”

My heart stuttered as my gaze flicked to Hymel’s. He hesitated, his gaze bouncing between the Lord and me, and good gods, I’d never thought I’d prefer his company, but here I was, wishing it weren’t him closing the doors and remaining in the hall.

Alone with the Lord in a chamber that no longer felt familiar and was strangely cold, I was too aware of the Lord’s stare. It was much like Thorne’s. Intense. Unflinching. I folded my arms over my chest and backed up against the settee. Several moments of silence passed as the Lord watched me. I peeked at him. The silvery-blond hair was longer than it had been when I last saw him, reaching the middle of his back and a shock against the leather-adorned black armor protecting his chest and shoulders. He looked . . . curious and perplexed. Did he recognize me? Like with Thorne, I doubted it, but the same instinct that warned me to stay quiet resurfaced.

“Sit,” Lord Samriel instructed.

Not wanting to tempt the Lord’s ire and endanger Grady, I sat on the edge of the settee, curling my feet beneath the hem of my gown.

Slowly, he sat on the settee, his long and lean body angled toward mine. “Your name? It’s Lis?”

I nodded.

“Is it short for anything?”

Pressing my arms close to my waist and chest, I didn’t want to answer him, but the risk of lying was too great. “Calista.”

“Calista,” he repeated, and hearing him speak my name drew a shiver down my spine, but not the kind elicited from Thorne. “A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

Fingers pressing into my sides, I forced myself to respond. “That is kind of you to say.”

His answering smile was tight and knowing. “You worry for your friend?”

My stomach dipped and twisted. “Yes.”

“The Prince will not break his oath unless given reason to,” he told me. “You just don’t want to give him reason.”

“I won’t,” I swore.

“Relieved to hear that,” he replied. “Tell me about your abilities, Calista.”

“I . . . I can do as Hymel said,” I told him. “But I’m not a conjurer.”

“I know.” Lord Samriel leaned back, resting one ankle on his knee. The shafts of his boots were polished, but something dark smeared the foot. I glanced at the tile near the door. A footprint in red stained the floor. Blood. I quickly looked away, stomach churning. “I want to hear how you would describe them.”

Not at all experienced in speaking of my abilities, I squirmed. “I have . . . heightened intuition and I can sometimes see the future— in visions or when asked a question.”

“Interesting,” he murmured, the curve of his lips doing nothing to soften the harsh angles of his features. “This heightened intuition you speak of? How does it work?”

“It . . . it guides me toward certain choices. Sometimes I’m unaware of it until I’m doing something.”

“Like?”

My thoughts were so scattered it took a moment for me to think of an example. “Sometimes I’ll see someone and know what is about to occur. It can happen in a premonition— something I see happening in my mind before it occurs— and other times it’s a voice I hear.”

“Voice?” he questioned.

“My own voice. It’ll . . . whisper what is about to occur or it will tell me to stop and listen, take another path or enter a different— ” A scream from outside caused me to jump. My pulse sped up, and my head swung toward the window, but I could see nothing beyond the curtains. Who was that? Someone I knew? A stranger?

“Pay that no mind,” Lord Samriel said, tone gentle and almost kind. His tone had been that way this entire time. Casual, even. “There is nothing you can do for them. Focus on what you can do for yourself and for your friend. What is his name?”

A knot lodged in my chest as I dragged my gaze from the window. “Grady,” I whispered, clearing my throat. “My intuition is just very heightened.”

“And seeing the future?” Lord Samriel asked.

I nodded. “Usually it takes someone asking me a question. I . . . I will need to concentrate on them and sometimes I need to touch them.”

“But you also have premonitions without being asked. Did you not see this coming?”

“I did, but . . .” I swallowed, unnerved as I focused on the hand resting on the arm of the settee. The ring finger on his left hand was missing. Could he not regenerate it? There was no doubt in my mind that Lord Samriel was powerful enough, which meant that keeping from him the fact that I could hear thoughts was not wise, but Hymel hadn’t mentioned it. The others might not know. “But it was vague. I knew there’d be . . . bloodshed but I didn’t know what would cause it.”

“Is it because the events involved you?”

My gaze shot to his as my heart skipped.

His smile deepened as his chin dipped. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“How . . . how did you know that?”

“I knew of someone like you once, with similar gifts. Their future was often hidden to them.” His gaze, like shards of obsidian except for the green ring around the pupil, flickered across my face. “For a time.” His head straightened. “You were an orphan?”

Surprise ripped through me, then understanding. “Hymel?”

Lord Samriel nodded.

Anger built, tasting of ash on my tongue. It was clear that Hymel had been working with these Hyhborn, who likely hailed from the Lowlands. For how long was anyone’s guess. “Hymel . . . he said Prince Rainer would be joining us for the Feasts.”

“He did,” Lord Samriel said. “Or I suppose it would be more accurate to say that he was going to. However, the Prince of Primvera wasn’t in agreement with the King’s wishes.” He paused. “May the gods rest his soul.”

The breath I took went nowhere. “Prince Rainer . . . he’s dead?”

“Unfortunately.”

Oh my gods. I rocked back, toes pressing into the thick rug. “The King . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say what I suspected.

“What has Prince Thorne told you?” Lord Samriel asked.

I tensed. “About . . . about what?”

“About the King.”

“Nothing much,” I said, and that wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. “All I know is that he was sent here to determine if Archwood was worth defending against the Iron Knights.”

Lord Samriel made a noncommittal sound.

“Was that not true?” I asked, not daring to open my senses to him. Not then.

“Hyhborn cannot lie.” The green circles churned slowly around his pupils. “Prince Thorne is unaware of your abilities, isn’t he? He’s unaware of what you are to him?”

“No, he doesn’t know about my abilities.” My throat tightened. “And I’m nothing to him.”

“That’s not true at all, Calista,” he said, and my skin chilled at the sound of my name. “He may not yet be aware of what you mean to him on a conscious level, but on a primal one? I’m confident he does. He’s drawn to you, whether he understands why or not.”

I jolted, recalling Thorne’s own confusion as he admitted as much. “I . . . I don’t understand.”

“Well, it’s quite simple,” Lord Samriel said. “You are everything to him.”

A shivery wave of awareness swept through me. “Ny . . . ny’chora.”

Lord Samriel’s pale brows lifted. “So, he has spoken to you about something.”

“It was . . . I was asking why his heart didn’t beat.”

Everything about the Lord changed in an instant. The friendly if cold smile slipped from his face. His entire body tensed, and when he spoke, gone was the gentleness. “And what did he say to that?”

My jaw clamped shut with the sudden feeling that I . . . I needed to be careful. It was the faint stirrings of my intuition. “He just said that his heart doesn’t beat because of his ny’chora.”

His lips thinned as they curled slightly on one side. “Did he tell you what the ny’chora was?”

“Only that it was everything. That was all he said,” I quickly added. “It was at night, and he was tired. He went to sleep.”

Those unblinking eyes didn’t leave mine. “He slept with you?”

I wet my dry lips. “Do you mean literally or figuratively?”

Lord Samriel chuckled. “Literally.”

“Yes.”

“And figuratively.”

“No,” I lied, and I wasn’t even sure why I did. It slipped from my mouth so quickly that it sounded genuine.

“Interesting.” His gaze flickered over me. “But you two have been intimate in other ways, I imagine?”

“Yes.” Swallowing, I looked away, my gaze settling on the door. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing. I’m just being impolite and nosy.”

I huffed out a dry laugh.

“What do you feel when you are with him?” he asked. “And this is not an impolite question, Calista. It’s one I need you to answer.”

Unfolding my arms, I clasped my tightly pressed-together knees. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

Lord Samriel raised his brows. “Are you drawn to him? Attracted to him? Or does he frighten you like I do?”

My heart skipped, and that faint smile returned. The Lord was . . . how did Thorne put it? Tuned in?

“I’m enjoying the openness of our conversation,” he shared in my silence. “I hope it continues to be pleasurable and easy.”

“Or?” I whispered.

“Or I will simply make it an easy conversation, though it may not be enjoyable for you.”

I looked up, understanding what he meant. He’d use a compulsion— seize my will and take control— like he’d done with Grady in Union City. A whole new kind of terror seized me. That I didn’t want. Ever. “I am drawn to him and find him attractive. After all, he is a Hyhborn prince.”

Lord Samriel smirked. “Are you afraid of him?”

“No.”

That smile returned. “He’s the only one you won’t fear.”

“And yet I’m his to kill?” I forced out the words that felt so very wrong to say.

“If he wants to survive, yes.”

I sucked in a shaky breath, chest tightened until I felt like I would suffocate. “I don’t understand.”

The Lord was quiet for a few moments. “Do you know anything about your birth? Your bloodline?”

“No,” I said, thinking of what Maven had shared— gods, was Maven still alive? I shuddered. “I just know I was given to the Priory of Mercy as a babe.”

His stare sharpened as he stared at me; then a slow smile spread across his face. “Did you ever tell Prince Thorne that you were given to the Priory?”

My heart was pounding once more. I shook my head.

“Calista?” He drew his booted foot from his knee, lowering it to the floor. “I have a very important question for you. Was Prince Thorne unknown to you when you met him here? Am I unknown to you?”

A tremor started in my hands and traveled up my arms. “No,” I admitted in a hushed voice.

“Oh, the irony is so sweet.” He scooted to the edge of the settee. “You were right there, in front of us, and yet neither of us knew,” he said, letting out a thick laugh. “You were glamoured even then.”

That word again. “Glamoured?”

“Your divinity was hidden, likely by the Prioress. You wouldn’t be the first that they’ve attempted to hide. Their actions are . . . righteous in nature, if infuriating. They see themselves as protectors of those born of the stars.”

I stared at him. “So . . . you believe me to be a caelestia?”

“I believe that you’re more than just that. You see, quite a number of mortals carry the blood of Hyhborn in them,” he said, and I thought of what Maven had said about the conjurers. “There could even be more caelestias than there are mortals. It’s hard to tell, but when the stars fall, a mortal is made divine.”

That phrase again. “And what does that mean exactly?”

“It means the gods blessed those born in the hour that the stars fell with certain gifts— with abilities that would make them useful in times of . . . strife.”

I thought of Vayne Beylen. “There are others like me.”

“There used to be many ny’seraphs,” he said, and my breath caught. “One for every Deminyen. You see, the ny’seraph is bonded to a Deminyen at birth, becoming their ny’chora.”

Why doesn’t it beat like that now?

Because I lost theny’chora.

“Bonded?” I whispered.

He nodded. “If you weren’t glamoured, Prince Thorne would’ve recognized you the moment he laid eyes on you, but even so, he was still drawn to you and vice versa. That is how powerful the link is.”

“You’re saying that the gods bond a mortal to a Deminyen at birth?” I swallowed. “Why?”

“Because once the bond is completed, the Deminyen gains their ny’chora— their connection to humanity. The ny’chora keeps them— ”

“Humane. Compassionate,” I whispered.

Lord Samriel nodded. “The gods found that necessary after, well, that is a conversation for a different day.”

I thought I already knew what conversation he spoke of. The Great War. Based on what Thorne had told me, the Deminyens had gone to rest because they’d been losing their ability to connect to mankind and when many awoke they did so without compassion.

My gods, I didn’t . . . I didn’t know what to think about that— any of that. It was almost too much to consider. “How is that bond completed?” I asked.

“A few ways, but that’s not what you need to worry about,” he said, and I started to open my senses to him. The white wall shielding his thoughts throbbed as he leaned forward suddenly, his movements severing the connection. “The completion of the bond will not happen.”

I looked away. Just for a few seconds. “Why . . . why would he need to kill me to survive?”

“Because the ny’seraph can be a strength to a Deminyen, but also their greatest weakness,” Lord Samriel explained, his tone gentle once more. “Through you, he can be killed.”

My lips parted as my breath caught.

“But we won’t allow that.” He rose. “Prince Rohan will want all of this confirmed, just to be sure. You should rest till then.”

Rest? Was he serious? I stayed seated as he crossed to the door, treading over the smear of blood there. “And then what?”

“Then you will be taken to Augustine,” Lord Samriel said. “And you will be given to King Euros.”