Three sōls danced together above the roses as I walked the gardens that evening. I hadn’t ventured too far, able to still hear the music drifting from the lawns of Archwood Manor.
After speaking with Maven, I had searched for Claude, but hadn’t seen him until this evening. There was no chance to talk to him. He was holding a party that likely rivaled what took place during the Feasts. The drive was full of jeweled carriages and the Great Chamber teeming with glittering aristo. I’d spent only a few minutes there, and knew that most had come to catch sight of the lords of Vytrus, and of course, the Prince.
I reached out, running my fingers over the silky petal of a rose. I’d been wrong in my assumption that most of the aristo would abandon the city upon hearing of the impending siege. None of them appeared at all concerned about why they were here, their thoughts consumed with catching a glimpse of the Hyhborn and more.
Which meant none of those in attendance had been with the Hyhborn that morning to prepare for the siege. That wasn’t at all surprising. I still believed that many would be gone once the reality of what was to come settled in.
The Hyhborn weren’t in attendance, and I didn’t know if any of them would eventually show.
I didn’t even know if Thorne had returned to the manor or had come to look for me yet.
One of the sōls dipped down, nearly brushing against my arm before it floated deeper into the roses as I heard Maven’s words echo in my thoughts. That he came for what is his. The warm swirl of tingles rippled across the base of my neck, and that same feeling as before returned. Rightness. Acceptance. I didn’t understand it.
I started walking, unsure if what I felt was from my intuition or not. Having felt only vague premonitions about them before, it was hard to know what fueled the feeling. It was also hard to believe what Maven had said— had suggested.
If she’d spoken the truth, then she was saying that I . . . that I was a caelestia and that was how I’d gained my abilities. Could that be impossible? No. I didn’t know my parents, let alone my ancestry, but Claude had no gifts. I’d never heard of any having abnormal abilities, but both she and Claude spoke of Beylen as if he were different. Divine. As if I were different. Divine. Because we were . . . starborn?
I glanced up at the star-swept sky. Part of me wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Wouldn’t Thorne have, I don’t know, sensed that I was a caelestia? Wouldn’t Claude have just told me this? Why keep it hidden from me? A horrible thought crossed my mind. Could he have kept it hidden from me because caelestias were automatically accepted into the aristo class? Certain opportunities presented themselves. I could seek education if that was what I wanted. I could own land. Buy a home. Start a business—
“No,” I whispered. Claude wouldn’t have kept that from me just to keep me by his side. If it was true, and I was a caelestia, there would be a damn good reason why Claude wouldn’t have told me.
Unless I was incredibly naive, and I wasn’t. At least, I didn’t think I was.
I walked on for several minutes, stopping when I felt the sudden thickening of the air. The brief, unnatural stillness and then the sharp crescendo of humming insects and chattering night birds. Tiny bumps spread across my arms. Awareness pressed upon me.
Slowly, I turned. The breath I took was unsteady as the swelling motion returned to my chest.
Thorne stood on the walkway, a handful of feet from me, dressed in the black sleeveless tunic and pants. A warm breeze toyed with the loose strands of his hair, tossing them against the cut of his jaw. There were no golden glints of weapons on him, at least that I could see, but their absence made him no less dangerous.
And that damn urge— the one to run, to provoke him into giving chase— rose in me again. My muscles tensed in preparation. It was a wild feeling.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, drawing several sōls from the air above.
Clasping my hands together, I held myself still. “Were you?”
“I thought you’d be in my quarters or yours.”
“You mean you thought I would be waiting for your return?”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.
“You shouldn’t have.” I turned from him, heart pounding as I forced myself to move slowly. To not run. I didn’t look back, because I . . . I knew he followed. A warm shiver curled down my spine.
“I thought we had come to an agreement on this arrangement,” Thorne said, sounding as if he was only a foot, if that, behind me.
“Had we?”