“Can’t say I’m surprised to hear the King would rather see the city leveled,” Grady said when I went quiet.
“Really?” My brows rose.
“Yeah. Were you surprised to hear that?”
“A little,” I said. “I mean, there’s a huge difference between the King taking little interest in the welfare of us lowborn and deciding that our homes and livelihoods aren’t worth the possibility of a Hyhborn being injured or dying.”
“Yeah, I don’t see a difference there.” He shrugged. “All Hyhborn care about is themselves at the end of the day. Half of the time I’m surprised that they haven’t just gotten rid of us and taken the realm for themselves.”
“Gods.” I stared at him. “That’s dark. Even for you.”
He snorted.
I shook my head. “There’s more. It’s about Vayne Beylen.”
Curiosity filled his face. “I’m all ears.”
“And it has to stay with your ears.”
“Of course.”
I glanced at the closed door. “Claude and Vayne are related.”
His brow shot up. “What?”
“They’re cousins, related on Claude’s father’s side of the family,” I told him. “Beylen is a caelestia.”
“Fuck . . .” He drew the word out. He leaned into the chair, draping an arm over the back. “How did you learn this?”
“Claude told me. The Hyhborn don’t know.” I crossed my arms, inhaling deeply and immediately regretting it, because the damn robe smelled of . . . of Thorne. “But him being a caelestia explains why the Iron Knights would back the Westlands.”
“Yeah.” He dragged a finger over his brow. “I suppose.”
I studied him. “I’m sorry.”
He looked up. “For what?”
“I know you kind of looked up to this Beylen, and hearing that he’s a caelestia probably changes it.”
“Why?” His brows knitted.
“Because caelestias aren’t lowborn— ”
“They basically are compared to the Hyhborn. I mean, look at Claude. He’s about as dangerous as a half-asleep kitten.”
I wrinkled my nose. “You really don’t think that changes things? What he is? His support of the Westlands Hyhborn— a princess who wants to be queen?”
“Look, I know I said all Hyhborn are the same and shit, but I was . . . I don’t know. I was talking out of my ass. Beylen and those who follow him are risking their lives. There must be a reason why Beylen would support her— why those already following Beylen are also supporting her. She could be different.”
I huffed out a breath, shaking my head.
“You think your prince is different.”
“He’s not my prince,” I snapped. “And I just . . .” I sat on the edge of the chair. “There’s something I feel like I’m missing with Claude and everything, and that it’s important. He said that Beylen was starborn or something like that. It sounded familiar, but I don’t get it.” There was a lot I didn’t get, like how Claude had said the Prince of Vytrus could provide me with what he could not. Everything.
“Starborn?” Grady murmured, and I looked over at him. He rocked forward. “Wait. I’ve heard that before. Heard you say that.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, fiddling with the collar of the robe.
“The Prioress of Mercy— the one you were given to,” he said. “You told me when we were younger that she used to say that you were born of the stars.”
“Holy shit.” My hand fell to my lap. “You’re right.”
He gave me a cheeky grin. “I know. Probably just a weird coincidence.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, except I didn’t believe in coincidences. Neither did he.
Starborn.
I knew that meant something.
My intuition, usually silent on all things dealing with me, was telling me that it did.
That it was important.
Claude was still with Hymel, so speaking with him wasn’t an option at the moment, and since this could be something only a caelestia knew, the only other person I could think of who might know what starborn meant was Maven.
That was if Naomi was right about her, and she was Claude’s grandmother, on his father’s side.
The thing was, I’d have to get her to talk or . . . I would have to get the information from her another way, without her permission.
That didn’t sit well with me, but it also didn’t stop me. I was a hypocrite and fully aware of it.