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He stared at me, brow furrowing. “Did the Prince tell you something?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t understand— ”

“Am I acaelestia?” I interrupted.

He blinked rapidly. A moment passed. “I don’t know.”

“Claude.” I leaned forward, fingers pressing into the knees of my tights. “Have you known this whole time that I wasn’t really mortal?”

“Caelestiasare mortal too, Lis. We just have stronger blood. That is all,” he said.

Exceptcaelestiasweren’t treated like lowborn. “Have you known?”

He held my stare, then looked away. “At first, I . . . I suspected that you were.”

An ache pierced my chest as I sucked in a breath that went nowhere. “And you never told me? Why wouldn’t you— ”

“Because I’m not surewhatyou are,” he cut in. “And I speak the truth. You don’t bear the mark.”

I frowned. “What mark?”

“Your eyes. They’re brown. A beautiful shade of brown,” he added quickly. “But allcaelestiashave eyes like mine. Some are different in other ways.” He looked away. “But you don’t bear the telltale trait of acaelestia.”

“My eyes . . .” I thought of how they’d looked different the other day, an inner ring of . . . of blue appearing around the pupils. My throat tightened. The night in Union City? Thorne and Lord Samriel . . . they had been looking at the eyes of the children there. My palms dampened.

“Has the Prince sensed that you were acaelestia?” Claude asked.

“No,” I said, wiping my palms on my knees. “The Prince has always referred to me as a mortal, but . . .”

“But what?”

“But he says there’s something about me that he can’t figure out,” I said, breathing through the stinging in my throat. “He feels as if he met me before.”

“Because he has, hasn’t he?”

Losing my connection with him, I went rigid. Even my heart stuttered.

“He’s the Hyhborn you met in Union City, isn’t he?” Claude drew his fingers over his brow. “The one you thought was a lord?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “How did you know it was him?”

“I didn’t till the other night, at dinner. It was the way he behaved toward you. The way he . . .” His eyes squinted. “The way he claimed you.”

That he came for what is his.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered.

“Neither do I, and I mean that. I truly do.” He dropped his hand to the arm of the chair. “You have abilities similar to my cousin, but if a prince cannot sense that you’re acaelestiaand you don’t bear the mark, then there was no way for me to know for sure.”

I looked away, swallowing. “You still could’ve told me.”

“Then what? Do you know how acaelestiais proven if there are no parents to make the claim? They are taken to the Hyhborn Courts, where a prince or another Deminyen confirms their lineage,” he explained. “And if a Deminyen couldn’t sense it now, what would’ve been the likelihood of one being able to do so then? I know I said I wasn’t worried about Prince Thorne believing you to be a conjurer, but others? It would be too risky.”

I tried to accept what he said. He had a point, but . . . “You don’t have abilities.”

Claude laughed roughly. “No, I don’t. Neither does Hymel. Neither do mostcaelestias.”

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