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?