“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 body sideways, he steps back to reveal me standing there. “I’ve brought your sister to you, Zora.”
His voice is hard. If I didn’t know any better, promises of retribution ring within. I spare him a glance, and his expression is stormy with anger as he looks at my sister.
Her eyes are on me, though, wide with surprise. She doesn’t seem to fear Amell’s fury over my existence or presence here.
I take a hesitant step forward, holding my hand up. “Hi, Zora. I’m Finley.”
CHAPTER 8
Finley
Zora looks like she’s seen a ghost and, in a way, I suppose she has. I’ve been nothing but a voice in her head—an intangible that she couldn’t see or touch.
Amell crosses his arms over his chest again, his overall posture and expression one of disapproval. I’m sure he takes issue with not only the fact I am here in this realm he is ruling, but I’m here for Zora. I have to imagine he’s irked because Zora never told him about me, and I’m dying to know just what type of relationship they have.
But first things first.
I want to hug my sister.
Potential outcomes of this could include Zora running away from me, blasting me with magic, or potentially vomiting from the enormity of what’s facing her. I expect she’s not had much loving touch in her life, and this could freak her out.
Doesn’t matter.
I need it, and, for once, I’m taking something for myself.
I move past Amell, then step over the threshold into her house without an invitation. Zora takes a step backward, but I keep coming her way. It’s only because she backs into a table that she stops, and it’s only then that I’m able to wrap my arms around her. One over her shoulder and the other around her waist, and I pull her to me tight.
Her body is as stiff as plywood and she doesn’t return the embrace, but I don’t care. This is a gift—a miraculous, joyous gift I’ve been given. If I only have these few moments to hug her, I’m going to latch on as long as I can.
“I’ve missed you,” I murmur as I squeeze tighter.
“You don’t even know me to miss me,” she points out, but I note her tone is without the usual rancor when we’ve talked before.
“Hoping to change that,” I say. To give her some space and not scare her off, I reluctantly release her and step back.
Zora smooths down the tunic she’s wearing, which looks like brown burlap, cut fairly close to her actual body shape with crisscross leather straps that meet right at her sternum and give her figure even more definition. The tunic falls to her hips, and she has on pants that look almost like they could be denim but are also brown. There are holes at the knees, and they are faded at the thighs. I imagine it’s from repeated washings. Maybe it’s her only pair. The thought she has so little hurts my heart.
She’s wearing a pair of brown leather boots that look well cared for, and as I glance around her bare home, they might be her most expensive possession. I wonder how she earns these things.
Her house is small and consists of only one room. There’s a stove, a small counter, a kitchen table with chairs, a bed in the corner with a trunk at the end, and a door at the back, which I assume leads outside. I don’t see a bathroom, but it would be rude to ask how she bathes. I know she smelled good when I hugged her, and her hair is clean and shiny. Her complexion is a bit pale, but it’s perfectly clear. It’s very weird here, and I can’t wait to learn more about it.
“Zora,” Amell says in a deep, commanding voice. Forgetting there are other people here, I jump, startled. I turn to see that the four men have crowded into her house, Amell somehow tucking his wings in even closer. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me.”
My gaze snaps back to Zora, wondering if she’ll cower from his anger because he is definitely pissed off at the knowledge she has a twin sister.
Instead, Zora lifts her chin, expression cool and detached. “Let’s not start playing the blame game when it comes to keeping secrets.”
Amell’s jaw tightens again, and I’m slightly fearful that she’s standing up to such a powerful Dark Fae. But he does no more than incline his head and take a step backward as if to say he’s removing himself from the conversation.
It’s with fascination that I see a flicker of remorse shadow Zora’s face, and she adds gently, “It wasn’t much of a secret, Amell. She contacted me a couple of times through some weird twin bond we have, but I pushed her away both times. I never thought she’d just show up here.”
That seems to appease Amell, who manages a curt nod of acceptance, but during the exchange, the important thing is that she kept our magical powers a secret. I mean, he may already know she has magic, but she didn’t rat me out—except about our ability to communicate telepathically—and that means something.