Page 138 of Fall of Ruin and Wrath

“Some. Depends on the Court and how they treatcaelestias.Some Hyhborn treat them as if they are . . .”

“A lowborn?” I finished for him.

Thorne nodded.

“How so?”

He didn’t answer immediately. “They are treated more like servants than equals.”

I exhaled slowly. “And does that differ from your Court? I’ve always heard that lowborn were not welcomed.”

“They aren’t.”

My head cut toward him. “And here I was beginning to think that what was said about you not liking lowborn was another false narrative.”

Thorne stared ahead. “The Highlands are fierce lands,na’laa.Dangerous for even a Hyhborn to travel without knowledge.”

I thought about that. I knew that the largest portion of the Wychwoods was in the Highlands. “Are there anycaelestiasthat live there?”

“There are. Some are even knights of the Court.”

“Oh.” That made sense, since I knew that manycaelestiaswere in the Royal regiment. I worried my lower lip, searching for a way to ask what I wanted to know and finding it. “I’ve always wondered something. Can you or other Hyhborn sense acaelestia?” I asked as I opened my senses, creating that cord. I came into contact with that white shield, and when I pressed upon it, it did nothing.

He nodded as I severed the connection. “Their essence is different than that of a mortal.”

Well, that threw a wrench into what Maven claimed. The Prince had repeatedly referred to me as a mortal.

“That was an odd thing to wonder about,” Thorne commented.

“I wonder about a lot of odd things,” I said, which was true.

“Like?”

I laughed. “I’d rather not embarrass myself by sharing the things that cross my mind.”

“Well, now I’m all the more interested.”

Snorting, I sent him a look.

There was a pause as we neared the wisteria trees. Only then did I realize how far we’d walked. “Do you wonder about me?”

I had, many times over the years, and even more between the time he first appeared in Archwood and his return. Stopping, I trailed a finger over the lavender-hued blossoms. I’d wondered all sorts of random, irrelevant things. I had questions that were far less important than what I should be thinking about then.

“Do you have family?” I asked, which was something I’d wondered. “I mean, obviously not by blood but something similar?”

“Deminyens do have what would be similar to family— to a sibling,” he answered, lifting a hand. His fingers folded around the thick braid of hair resting over my shoulder. “We are never created alone.” He ran his thumb along the top of the braid as he drew his hand down. “Usually there are two or three created at the same time, sharing the same earth, the same Wychwood.”

“So, in a way, you do have blood . . . siblings?”

His fingers reached the middle of the braid, where it crested over my breast. “In a way.”

“And you? Do you have one? Or two?”

In the soft glow of thesols,there was a tightening to his jaw. “Just one now.” His brows knitted. “A brother.”

“There was another?”

“A sister,” he said. “Do you ever wonder if you had siblings?”