he owes her something.
Or perhaps he needs redemption?
I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’m fascinated that this Dark Fae—clearly royal and second in command to Kymaris—takes our appearance in stride.
Of course, he could be leading us into a trap, but that’s where it comes in handy to have two demi-gods who can decimate someone by blinking their eyes.
We follow Amell into Otaxis. Boral said royals don’t bother to come here, and Dark Fae seem to melt away from the winged fae as he walks the streets. He has a tremendous bearing and commands a respectful sort of fear from those we pass. It makes me wonder exactly what he can do.
I want to know how he has those damn wings.
Sadly, I don’t have the guts to ask those questions.
As we move through the city, some of the Dark Fae look at me with curiosity. Most, though, stare with open hostility while others regard me as if I’m a tasty snack. I don’t bother to put my hood back on since Amell is our escort, but it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m safe. Carrick and Maddox stay close to me on either side, but I’ll occasionally catch a Dark Fae gaping at me in shock. I can only assume they know Zora, and they’re startled by our nearly identical features. Besides the color of our hair, of course.
Up ahead, I recognize the bar where Zora had stopped for an awful drink in my dreams. That’s when I was able to look in the mirror and realize we were twins, but she had snowy white hair in a riot of curls.
I lean into Carrick, nodding toward the bar. “That’s where I first saw Zora. They serve alcohol in there that tastes like antifreeze.”
He mutters back, “Might I suggest you not drink or eat anything offered to you on this trip?”
“Agreed.”
Two blocks down, Amell turns right. It’s then that something hits me.
“No transportation,” I say aloud to no one in particular.
Amell looks over his shoulder at me, eyebrows raised.
“Everyone walks,” I explain. “Obviously, I wouldn’t expect modern modes of transport, but there aren’t even animals being ridden or pulling carts.”
“Many Dark Fae in the Underworld can bend distance, so that’s how they can travel efficiently. Those who can’t tend to stay in a localized area.”
“And just how many Dark Fae can do that down here?” I ask curiously. Because we don’t know much other than some stone magic was brought into the Underworld, bestowed upon some, while evolution helped develop the rest.
Amell stops and turns to face us. “Unlike Faere, where Nimeyah limits her subjects’ powers so she remains the strongest, we don’t do that here. Kymaris has been generous with the stone magic that came below, and evolution strengthened those abilities. Bending distance and conjuring can almost be considered commonplace.”
“And your wings?” I ask since he’s talking openly.
His voice is somber. “Through magic, I was able to receive back that which was stripped from me when I fell from grace. Not all Dark Fae want them, but they were important to me.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why are you sharing stuff so freely with us? We’re intruding in your realm. We are opposing your queen from above.”
“Me sharing this information changes nothing,” Amell points out. “Kymaris has risen, and she will tear down the veil. Earth will be hers, and my loyalties are to her. Nothing I’ve told you has any bearing on that.”
Hmmm. I have to chew on that one. This guy is slick, and I can’t figure him out.
With the thought that we still might be headed into a trap, we continue our journey, following Amell deeper into the city until he finally comes to a street lined with small square huts made like all the other structures with mud and stone. He heads to the third house down, which has thatching on the sloped roof, a window framed with wood but no glass, and a wooden door that’s not well made as the wood is worn and cracked.
Amell taps on it slightly and takes a step back. I stand directly behind him with Carrick and Maddox still flanking me and Boral to my rear. Amell is so wide, even with the expanse of his wings folded back, I can’t see the door when it opens.
Regardless, I can envision my sister, which makes my heart start to gallop.
It’s her voice I hear first. “Amell,” she says in surprise. “What are you doing here? You hardly ever come slumming.”
Turning his