“Ah, yes, reaffirming their commitment to lowborn,” I said a bit sarcastically. She was speaking of the uppermost sphere of Hyhborn— the ones known as Deminyens.
When Deminyens emerged from the ground, it was said they came into existence fully formed and were ageless, capable of manipulating the elements and even the minds of others. Some of them were the lords and the ladies of the Hyhborn echelon, but those weren’t the most powerful of the Deminyens. The princes and princesses who ruled over the six territories within Caelum, along with the King, were the most frightening in their power. They could take different shapes, whip rivers into a frenzy with a flick of their wrists, and even seize the souls of the lowborn, creating the terrifying creatures known as the Rae.
Not much was known about any of them except for King Euros. Hell, other than Prince Rainer of Primvera, we didn’t even know their names. The only other one we ever heard about, and that was usually through the rumor mill, was the Prince of Vytrus, who ruled the Highlands, and that was because he was dreaded by most. After all, he was known as the hand that delivered the King’s wrath.
I almost laughed out loud right then. Hyhborn were the Protectors of the Realm, but I wasn’t exactly sure how they served us. Even though the Hyhborn were mostly like absentee landlords who came around only when the rent was due, the Hyhborn controlled everything about the lowborn’s lives— from who could obtain an education to who could own land or companies. And I was of the mind that the Feasts were more of a way to provide the Hyhborn with what they wanted. Our indulgence in all manner of things, from gorging on food to indulging in the delights of each other during the Feasts, also fed the Hyhborn. Strengthened them. Empowered them. Our pleasure was their sustenance. Their life force. It was more for them than it was us.
Because there were so many more ways they could prove that they cared for us lowborn, starting with providing food throughout the year to those in need. So many either starved or broke their backs in the mines or risked their lives on hunts to keep their families fed while the aristo— Hyhborn and the wealthiest of lowborn— became richer, the poor even more impoverished. It was the way things always had been and always would be, no matter how many lowborn rebellions rose up. Instead, they provided food only once a year, when much of the food went to waste while everyone was engaging in those certain activities.
But I didn’t say any of that out loud.
I might be reckless, but I wasn’t a fool.
“You know, they’re not all that bad,” Naomi said after a moment. “The Hyhborn, I mean. I’ve known of a few lords and ladies who have stepped in and aided those in need, and those in Primvera are kind and even caring. I think more are like that than not.”
At once, I thought of my Hyhborn— the unnamed lord who had touched my chin and asked how my arms had become so bruised. I didn’t know why I referred to him as mine. He obviously wasn’t. Hyhborn might fuck their way through the entirety of the lowborn race and then some, and a few might even claim a lowborn as theirs, at least for a time, but they were never a lowborn’s. It was just that I didn’t know his name, and it was an odd habit that had begun since that night.
Honestly, I doubted the Hyhborn lord had ever realized that he’d saved Grady’s life that night. The Mister would’ve punished him for talking back in front of Hyhborn, and far too many didn’t survive his punishments.
My stomach took a quick, sharp tumble like it always did when I thought of my Hyhborn, because I knew I would see him again.
That had yet to occur, and anytime I thought of it, I was filled with a mixture of dread and anticipation I couldn’t even begin to try to understand.
But maybe Naomi was right about many of them being what they claimed to be— Protectors of the Realm. Archwood flourished partly because of the ones in Primvera, the Hyhborn Court that sat just beyond the woods outside of the manor, and my Hyhborn had punished the Mister. Though he had done so rather brutally, so I wasn’t sure that was a good example of a kind and caring Hyhborn.
“Do you . . . do you think there will be Deminyens at the Feasts?” I asked.
“There are usually a few of them that show.” Her brow creased. “I’ve even seen a lord or two in the past. I do hope they show this year.”
Toying with the pestle, I looked over at her.
Her grin turned sly as she twisted the silver chain around her fingers. “There’s never a need to use the Long Night with a Hyhborn,” she added, referencing a powder made from the seeds of a trumpet flower. The powerful herb, in the right dose, left one drowsy and without much memory of the time after ingesting it. “They are quite delightful.”