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“It was complicated because Zora was a prisoner, and it was my job to watch over her while she was here. Kymaris was using her as a conduit to store immense dark magic for a spell she would later use to tear down the veil between our worlds. It was also part of my job to make Zora submit to the infusions of dark magic, which were most unpleasant.”
Nyssa’s expression tightens. “How long was she here?”
“Twenty-eight years… since the day she was born,” I reply, hating how Nyssa pales at that revelation. Might as well feed it all to her. “She was raised by a Dark Fae couple, and not well. They weren’t good to her. I protected her as much as I could and helped her move out when she was able to survive on her own.”
“You cared for her a great deal.” Nyssa’s conclusion is not wrong. “Even though you were her jailer, so to speak.”
“Of course, I cared for her. When she got older, we…”
My words dry up, and I don’t know why it’s so hard to talk about being intimate with another woman.
“You had sex,” Nyssa supplies, which isn’t the full truth. Zora offered me her virginity, and I gladly took it and kept taking for myself after. “But Truett said you’ve had sex with his sister, too, and that, well… probably a zillion others over your long life.”
“Are you jealous?” I ask with one eyebrow cocked.
“No,” she asserts far too strongly. “I’m well aware that I’m a diversion. Something new and interesting. I expect that will wear off soon enough, and I’ll probably end up back in my cell or in the river.”
My heart squeezes, because I know about Nyssa’s life and I know why she would feel that way. She expects nothing but rock bottom for herself.
I know all of this, but I want to hear her say it. So I poke a little. “Why would you think that? Maybe you’re not giving yourself enough credit.”
Nyssa rolls her eyes and pushes her plate away, barely a quarter of her food eaten. “Lay off, Dr. Phil. My life isn’t available for shrinking.”
“I have no clue what that means.”
She expertly changes the subject. “How did Zora become a god?”
“I let her leave the Underworld when her twin sister came looking for her. She played a part in a prophecy that resulted in Kymaris’s death. Zora sacrificed herself for the world and died. The gods decided—”
“Gods? As in, there are more than Zora and the same God that kicked you out of Heaven?”
“There are more, yes. Circe, the god of Fate. Cato, the god of Nature. Onyx, the god of Conflict. And Veda, the god of Humanity. At any rate, the former god of Life, Rune, was stripped of his powers for meddling in the prophecy, and Zora was brought back as a god.”
It’s an impressive story summed up in only a few words, and I expect Nyssa to ask for deeper explanations about the prophecy, but instead she asks, “Do you miss Zora?”
“No.” It’s the truth. There was a time when I did, but that gave way to contentment for her new happiness. She was a mere blip in time during my immortal life.
Nyssa stares at me before blurting, “I need a favor.”
I blink at the rapid about-face, my lips curling in amusement, for I think that was very well calculated. “Do tell.”
“You said Zora was able to leave and go back to the First Dimension. I want you to release my friend, Will, who you met today.”
Huh. I didn’t expect that. I search my memory as I have no clue who she’s talking about, but then I remember the human in the kitchens earlier. No clue why he’s even in the Underworld as he fell under Kymaris’s rule.
“He was a human sacrifice,” Nyssa says, her tone brittle with anger. “An innocent guy who didn’t deserve to be sent here.”
I scoff, waving my hand. “No one who ends up down here is innocent.”
“He is,” she says, her hands tightening into fists on the table. “His girlfriend performed a ritual and traded him for something. He had no clue that any of this even existed. He’s a nice guy. He should go home to his family.”
Another squeeze of that blackened organ in my chest. I know Nyssa would never ask to go home to her family. I expect conditions here are much better than she ever had above.
“What will you give me in return?” I ask, curious as to just how strongly she feels about this man’s freedom.
“Anything,” she says without hesitation.
“A blow job?” I ask curiously.
