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Now he’s giving me the grand walking tour of Otaxis.
“It’s actually a beautiful city,” I say as I take in the clean streets lined with glowing veins of crystal to light the way. The whitewashed buildings with thatched roofs and large windows are actually cozy and charming. Of course, monsters live inside, but it works.
“It wasn’t always,” Amell says as we traverse through a marketplace. “This is really just one large cavern you can’t see anymore because of the night sky. And the buildings were all mud and wood, fallen into disrepair. Kymaris didn’t care about anyone’s comfort but her own. It was dark and dank. The fae were miserable and angry, always at each other’s throats.”
“So you changed it all?” I ask as I look around at the size of this place. Buildings sprawl over hills that rise upward. The city itself has blocks upon blocks of businesses and housing. The marketplace is so big, I can’t see where it ends.
“Zora gifted me with almost godlike powers.” Amell nods at certain fae we pass. Most are exceptionally beautiful like him. Some are the opposite—downright terrifying. Amell explains those fae are from magic and evolution gone bad. Regardless, they give him plenty of space.
“You used your powers to help the residents be… what… happier? Thus a nicer, gentler Dark Fae.”
Amell snorts. “It’s not so much to make them happier but to discourage the desire to want to try a massive escape again. Kymaris had most of the Dark Fae ready to storm the First Dimension to take it over. Why wouldn’t they, just to have the luxuries of that realm?”
“By making it nicer here, you hope to keep them satisfied.”
“That’s the hope,” he mutters, but I can tell he’s worried that the likes of Ariman and Jago could be fomenting an insurrection. “With that said, I am fully prepared to strike down anyone who tries to make another play for the First Dimension.”
I shiver slightly because the malice in his voice is frightening. I never want to be on his bad side. I mean, there was a time I didn’t mind provoking him because I didn’t fear the Crimson River. To me it was no different from the rock bottom I’d already hit.
But now, things are different.
I want to keep this new life of mine.
Amell and I stroll through the market, rows and rows of small wooden stalls or carts of fae hawking food, clothing, and trinkets. Amell tries to get me to sample some grilled meat on a skewer, but I’ve seen the odd-looking animals here and decline.
He laughs and takes my hand, and I try to tell myself to not be so excited over the way it makes me feel, the touch of his palm against mine as we walk. I’ve seen people in love walking this way, the touch of another providing comfort, an affirmation of feelings, but I’ve never had it myself.
It’s nice, and I feel safe.
Up ahead I hear music, and as we get closer, lots of voices raised with shouting and laughing.
We turn a corner and come upon what looks like a pub. A wooden sign hangs over the door with a word on it I can’t read as it’s in another language. The double doors are wide open, and the front is nothing but windows with the shutters pulled aside so we can see in.
Some kind of band plays stringed instruments and drums. A long bar is tended by two beautiful fae females serving drinks poured into carved wooden cups. The party-like atmosphere spills onto the street, and patrons sit and drink around outdoor tables. The crowd includes a mix of creatures, from the beautiful to the repugnant. A creature that looks part lizard and part human has a scaly arm around a beautiful female fae who looks like a Victoria’s Secret model.
A pang of nostalgia pulses through me—this is no different from Crazy8’s, which was where I was trying to restart my life. Granted, I served humans and these are immortal Dark Fae, but it’s the same fun vibe.
“Do you want to go in for a drink?” Amell asks, and I realize I’ve stopped to stare.
I shake my head. Despite being with the king and knowing his absolute power here, I’m still very aware of my vulnerability as a fragile human. The one thing I’ve learned very clearly is that fae hate humans.
Well, except Amell. He most certainly doesn’t hate me.
“King Amell,” someone calls from the crowd inside. “Come join us for a drink. You don’t grace our streets nearly enough.”
Amell sighs and looks down at me. “Come on. One drink so I can make nice with my subjects.”
He doesn’t give me room to argue, tightening his hand on mine and pulling me in.
I’m immediately overwhelmed as we wind through a very thick crowd and fae press in upon him to clap him on the back or say a few words. He knows many of them by name, but I’m not introduced.
Someone shoves a cup in his hand, and he accepts a boisterous toast. I glance around and note that every single fae who looks at me does so with open hostility. I move closer to Amell, and even though he’s engaged in conversation with others, his arm comes around me to pull me even closer.
This is all well and good for a few minutes, but then I’m pushed slightly aside by a female fae pressing her body to his front and sliding her hands over his shoulders.
She’s stunning with midnight hair and golden eyes. Her dress dips low, exposing her breasts, and is cut high on her legs.
“There you are, lover,” she purrs, not seeming to care that I’m actually glued to his side with his arm around me.
