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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 acaelestia?”

“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 morecaelestiasthan 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 manyny’seraphs,” he said, and my breath caught. “One for every Deminyen. You see, theny’seraphis bonded to a Deminyen at birth, becoming theirny’chora.”

Why doesn’t it beat like that now?

Because I lost theny’chora.

“Bonded?” I whispered.

He nodded. “If you weren’t glamoured, Prince Thorne would’ve recognized you the moment he laid eyes on you, but even so, he was still drawn to you and vice versa. That is how powerful the link is.”

“You’re saying that the gods bond a mortal to a Deminyen at birth?” I swallowed. “Why?”

“Because once the bond is completed, the Deminyen gains theirny’chora— their connection to humanity. Theny’chorakeeps them— ”

“Humane. Compassionate,” I whispered.

Lord Samriel nodded. “The gods found that necessary after, well, that is a conversation for a different day.”

I thought I already knew what conversation he spoke of. The Great War. Based on what Thorne had told me, the Deminyens had gone to rest because they’d been losing their ability to connect to mankind and when many awoke they did so without compassion.

My gods, I didn’t . . . I didn’t know what to think about that— any of that. It was almost too much to consider. “How is that bond completed?” I asked.

“A few ways, but that’s not what you need to worry about,” he said, and I started to open my senses to him. The white wall shielding his thoughts throbbed as he leaned forward suddenly, his movements severing the connection. “The completion of the bond will not happen.”

I looked away. Just for a few seconds. “Why . . . why would he need to kill me to survive?”

“Because theny’seraphcan be a strength to a Deminyen, but also their greatest weakness,” Lord Samriel explained, his tone gentle once more. “Through you, he can be killed.”

My lips parted as my breath caught.

“But we won’t allow that.” He rose. “Prince Rohan will want all of this confirmed, just to be sure. You should rest till then.”

Rest? Was he serious? I stayed seated as he crossed to the door, treading over the smear of blood there. “And then what?”

“Then you will be taken to Augustine,” Lord Samriel said. “And you will be given to King Euros.”

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