“What is the progress on the reverse-engineering job?” I ask the cambion as they place a trash bin besides the table before sitting down.

“Steady,” Kam’rin answers, disassembling the Hu’tka to clean it. They remove the hose, and the rest of the parts come undone in kind, from base to stem and tray to bowl. “They are aware of how the phone works, but they will need to run a ton more tests on the prototypes. Good thing I made sure we bought enough burner phones, in case the tests fail into millions of burnt-up pieces.” The tray is dumped into the trash. “They guess that you flyers would have an easy time using this device, as ‘living antennas’.”

“Living antennas?” All I could picture is arthropod antennas, shifting back and forth on their tiny heads... amusing. “We don’t have antennae, we have horns.”

They chuckle. “I’ll explain it to you when we have a working prototype, don’t you worry.” They place the pieces of the Hu’tka in a plastic bin and set it aside. Leaning into their hands, they ask, “so what’s your relationship with that human, Ke’tlan?”

Caught off-guard, I feel myself immediately flush, and they laugh.

What really is my relationship with Val? Are we as close as I think we are, or am I just a pushy person that he follows without question? “Um…” I ponder on the thought as I rub my thumbs together. “Well I never… Fed on him, if that’s what you’re asking. Completely chaste, vanilla when it comes to Daemonic relations.”

I’m given a raised eyebrow. “So, how long have you known them?”

“About a few weeks.”

“And you’ve never Fed on them? Not even a little bit?”

What was just a rose tint turned into a full-blown rash of embarrassment. “Well... There was something that he said… and it kind of made me question my occupation, so-to-speak.”

“You are aware of the fact that your actual life depends on Feeding, right?”

I nod in shame, fully aware that my actions are, more or less, reprehensible for my kind. Kam’rin sits back in their seat and shrugs. “Well, so long as you know the consequences,” they say, and simply leave it at that.

I kind of don’t like how they left it like that, however.

“What’s your personal experience with humans, Kam’rin?” I press. The Cambion props their feet up onto the table, and they shrug with hand movements only.

I still don’t buy it.

“Do you think humans and Daemon should coexist with each other, Kam… rin,” I hiss, pressing my palms on the table as I stand up and tower over them. They must know that I am serious now, as their body stiffens as a response.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Kam’rin nervously laughs, and sits up properly on the chair. “Humans are really good for business. They are impulsive, with addictive personalities, and, in some cases, have poor-functioning memories. If you deceive them, they usually won’t care, unless your deception goes far beyond their own acceptable limits. If you go beyond that limit, much doesn’t happen, to be honest: they’ll mostly just avoid you.

“Daemon, on the other hand… they are so, very similar to humans when it comes to impulse and addiction, but they will kill you if you overstep their boundaries.” They stand up, and point at me. “I can see that you were nearing that limit, so I am complying with your demands.”

I can feel the flames of ire rumble throughout my body; instead of kindling them, I take deep breaths before I speak once again. “I would not harm you, Kam’rin, but I do expect answers when I ask questions. You can blame my royal blood for that one.”

“I’d rather blame your lack of self-control for it,” they retort, “than your so-called royal blood. Blood can only get you so far. It is experiences that mold you into a living being on this planet, whether you like it or not.” They head over to the kitchen, “Royals will need to suck the nubs on my head before I will accept those lame excuses as truth.”

The Cambion’s choice of words, although intended to be perceived as insulting, piqued my overwhelming curiosity. I follow them into the kitchen, and see them grab a bottle of alcohol from the fridge-- judging by the shape and size of the container, it’s likely a beer of some sort. They pop it upon with their teeth, and spit the cap at me. I catch it in between two of my manicured fingers, and toss it into the trash.

“Color me surprised,” I say as they guzzle down their liquor. “Why do you seem so bitter about royalty? Is it because of the Lith, or the Daemonic society that looks down upon Cambion, or a bit of both? I ask you this not as an interrogating royal, but as a concerned compatriot.”

They stare at me with their burning amber eyes, and do not break contact until the bottle is emptied. A refreshing smack of the lips, and a toss into the blue bin, before an answer: “Cambion, Imps, and, to a lesser extent, Sirens all bow down to the Kin’ra, no matter if they are direct royalty, commoners, or small children. Our Home’s societal structure… is based on an archaic caste system that has Imps at the very bottom; even with the Imps being lower than us, many of them are given far better treatment.” They go into the fridge again. “Imps get employed by Kin’ra, Sirens get employed by Kin’ra, you know who doesn’t get employed by Kin’ra?”

“Cambion,” I mumble. They grab another drink, and pop it open.

“Exactly.” Kam’rin takes a few hearty gulps. “The Sirens actually employed us Cambion as information brokers, because many of them could not integrate into society too well. Learning the language was hard, far too hard for them, and the fact that they are elementally attuned almost on par with Kin’ra such as you meant that they had to Feed constantly.

“Do not expect me to apologize for earlier, Prince,” they say before taking a few more gulps, “for what I said is true to my experience. I will not accept your pity, either. Cambion like me live fine with the humans, even without the sacred connections to others with similar blood.”

I absorb all that Kam’rin has to say to me, to the very syllable. They finish off the bottle, and I nod graciously. “The only thing I will give you is my thanks. The only thing I ask of you is things that I can reimburse, and if I take up Father’s place as Lith someday, there will be change. Even if it takes my whole life, and then some, to get there.”

“And what would be the first thing you’ll do with your power, Oh Dutiful One?”

“Allow those who work at my home to wear clothing,” they look at me with a raised eyebrow, “and dress in whatever attire they would like, for whatever occasion they desire.” I grit my teeth. “Only now am I outright disturbed by the nudity of the ones who take care of me. I always used to give them my shoes when I started doing this so-called job to live. My feet would get cold walking along those floors for a few minutes, and I thought it would be a nice gesture. Their nudity only became so apparent to me soon after I was politely rejected for my outward appearance.”

“Ah, the forbidden fruit of knowledge,” Kam’rin leans against the counter, staring at me with a sneering half-grin. “I wonder if you’re projecting your own discomforts on your workers, or if they actually feel that way, but nevermind that: you’ve never faced rejection before?”

“Not in my 11 years of working, and not in my 32 years of living until these past few weeks.” I press the ball of my palm against my forehead in irritation. “I didn’t even realize that my father was using a slur all this time to refer to his workers. Imagine just learning that Imps are called Imps in your thirties.”

“I am going to take the wildest guess right now.” The Cambion tosses the bottle in the blue bin with the other. “This human that you’re so fond of, caused your entire fantasy world to crumble and fall around you?”

I nod, and they laugh, causing my face to tense up. “Oh, that is rich. Have you ever had the eye-opening experience of human prejudice, in your 11 years of working, perchance?”

The laughter intensifies, but I do not kneel to it, no: instead, I start to approach it.