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The two fae clasp each other at the forearms before Truett turns to me and inclines his head. “Welcome, Nyssa.”
“Thank you,” I reply, feeling very out of place.
Truett leads us through what I assume is his home. The floors are well-worn wood and the walls the same stone material as the outside. The furniture is heavy and rustic, complemented with woven rugs and tapestries in rich colors, including burgundy and forest green. It’s the complete opposite of Amell’s shiny black castle.
The place is huge, and other fae mill about, just like in the castle. They all look like Truett, with their bluish skin and platinum hair, and exquisitely beautiful faces and bodies.
We enter what looks to be a sitting room with a huge hearth that has a merry fire crackling within. A couch faces the fire with two chairs flanking it. Amell and Truett both take the chairs, so I sit at the end of the couch closest to Amell’s seat.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Truett says, and I wonder how he sent notice to Amell. They don’t have cell phones, and I’ve seen no signs of telepathy. He must have sent someone by bending distance.
“I assume there’s a very specific reason you wanted me to come here versus you coming to Otaxis.”
“Fewer ears around.” Truett’s gaze comes to me, and he pointedly asks his friend, “Can you trust her?”
Amell’s gaze cuts to me, shrewd and unyielding. “I trust she would like to stay out of the Crimson River, so it’s fine to talk in front of her.”
I find this funny, because Amell knows very well how little I care about the Crimson River. Which means he must trust me, and that right there softens me a little more toward the big guy.
“There have been raiding parties on the outlanders. Mostly killing livestock, but one fae daughter was raped and murdered. She belonged to Mertuk.”
I gasp, my hand covering my mouth. Neither fae look at me.
“Has justice been meted?” Amell asks.
Truett’s jaw ticks as he shakes his head. “They’re robed and masked. Mertuk was bound with iron chains and couldn’t help his daughter. He was forced to watch, but he couldn’t get any details to help identify them.”
I hear a low rumble from Amell’s way as fury etches his face. I thought it might be coming from his chest, but the house shakes.
“Ease up, friend,” Truett growls. “Before you tear my house down.”
My fingers grip into the seat cushion, but the shaking stops. Amell rises from his chair and I move to stand, but he spares me a glance and says, “Stay.”
Butt back on the couch, I clasp my hands in my lap.
“Watch her,” Amell says to Truett without looking my way. “I’ll be back soon.”
And then… he disappears, having bent distance somewhere that isn’t here.
“Where did he go?” I exclaim.
“To see Mertuk. To offer condolences. To investigate on his own to see if he can figure out who it was.” Truett settles back into his chair, his long legs stretched out. He wears dark denim-like pants similar to Amell’s and no shirt. His body is as muscled as his king’s, but he’s not as tall. “So… you’re an interesting creature, aren’t you?”
“I suppose,” I reply awkwardly.
“I never thought Amell would be interested in a human after Zora.”
“Amell… cared for her?”
“It was a complicated relationship,” Truett says.
“Complicated? How?” I lean forward on the couch, angling toward him, eager to learn about this human turned god who had the king of the Underworld’s affection.
“The type of complicated that Amell should tell you about. Ask him.”
Not sure I have the guts to ask him such a personal question. “And you and Amell have been friends for a long time?”
“Amell?” he says with a husky laugh. “You call him by his first name?”
