Page 43 of What Lies Beyond the Realms

“Trust me, last night was nothing. I’m sure he found it amusing.” He takes the soap from me and begins cleaning my back and lathering my hair.

“Still I’d like to apologize and have a second chance to get to know him a little bit. We left before I ever got a chance to meet Flora too.”

I lean back and let him rinse my hair. He runs his fingers along my scalp, massaging the soap out. It's bliss. I could lie in this bath and let him massage me all day.

“You’ll have a chance this morning. I said I would show you the village, and I figured we could stop by Bim’s place after. I need to talk strategy with him if I’m going to take you into the Lycan Realm. Flora is usually at Bim’s place, so I’m sure you’ll get to meet her.”

I practically splash all the water out of the tub, swinging around to face him. “Yes, I’d love to see the village, and you’re really going to take me to speak with Aidan?”

“I know you want answers, and I said I’d help you get them. If you think Aidan will help us find this old Sorceress you speak of, then we need to make a plan to go see him.” He doesn’t sound happy about it.

We finish getting cleaned up, and I quickly braid my hair to the side while Nyx gets dressed. He’s in his usual black pants and black top. I go for something casual as well, putting on a pair of black tights and a light-green tunic.

“Shall we?” He extends a hand to me, and I take it.

In a flash of warm wind, what once was the bathroom is now a bustling little village.

As we arrive on the outskirts of town, the tree line greets us. We find ourselves standing before a group of small straw structures huddled together near the riverbank. A dirt path stretches ahead, leading us down to the back of these buildings. My eyes are immediately drawn to the water, where an array of boats and canoes are moored. People are bustling about, conducting trade and chatting with those on the decks. The smell of spices and freshly caught fish fills the air, carried on the warm breeze. It tickles my nose and adds to the lively atmosphere of the river.

“Come. I want you to try one of my favorite things to eat when I’m here.” Nyx pulls me along the path until we duck inside one of the miniature huts. It’s busy, and there are people everywhere sitting and standing along tall and short tables randomly spread out across a dirt floor. It’s definitely nothing fancy. Everyone is dressed casually and would never know Nyx was their king. No one stares at us. No one even acknowledges us as we wind through the scattered tables to the deck outside.

“Hey Timmy, how’s the family?” Nyx asks a chubby older man stopped at the dock in a boat.

“You know me. Can’t complain,” Timmy says while loading his boat with a container of what appears to be some type of slug. Gross.

“Have you seen Polly around this morning?” Nyx says, leaning on the wooden railing to peer into the boat.

“Yeah. I passed her a few minutes ago. She's making the rounds. Should be coming by you any minute,” Timmy says and sits down, seemingly satisfied with how he’s arranged everything in his boat. “Well, I’m off. Good day to you and your lady friend.”

“I’m sorry. Yes, this is Lyra,” Nyx says, turning back toward me.

“Good day, Lyra. Hope to see you around,” Timmy says while pushing his boat off away from the deck.

“Likewise.” I smile and wave.

“I wish you tight lines, my friend.” Nyx nods, and Timmy paddles down the river, mixing with the cluster of boats ahead.

“What does that mean?”

“Timmy is a fisherman. Wishing him tight lines is like wishing him good luck. Timmy is also Fae, and most Faeries are superstitious, especially the ones who like to fish.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Tight lines can mean the line is tight because there’s a fish on the other end, which is ultimately what I am trying to wish him good luck with. But a tight line could also mean you're snagged in the moss or stuck in a tree stump. So by saying ‘tight lines,’ I can get away with saying good luck without the fishing gods knowing and denying the fisherman’s luck all together. Make sense?”

“Not even remotely, but okay.” I laugh. It makes sense in some twisted superstitious way.

“Is everyone here Fae?”

“Mostly, yes,” he says but doesn’t offer up any more details.

“Here she comes. See the boat with the little red flag on the front.” He points up the river. In the distance I see a wide canoe with a small red flag attached to the front hanging high.

“Yes, I see it,” I reply, standing next to him to peer over the railing.

“That’s Polly. She makes the best Riffs you’ll ever try. I promise.” He sounds super excited, and I have no idea what a Riff is, but I’m excited now too. He waves her over, and she pulls up to the deck, tying onto a beam.

“I thought that was you, Onyx. Who's the pretty lady?" Polly says in a modulated voice. Polly is a voluptuous woman with skin chiseled by age and sun damage, as if from years spent out on a boat. Her dark hair falls just to her waist in braids woven with flowers and greenery. She looks quite a bit older than Nyx, and I wonder if she knew my father too.