“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.”