Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I’ve thrown myself into my work, determined to be a better king. Sure, I made our realm prettier in the hopes of keeping the residents happy, but it’s not enough. I’ve established leaders in each city along with their own governing council to handle ruling under my guidance. I’ve created a forum for residents to bring forth grievances, and another to work on better infrastructure.
I’ve established laws to cut down on some of the wanton crime inherent with an entire realm populated with evildoers, but for the most part, I let the citizens do as they like. As long as they stay within the place created for them to be what they are meant to be, I’ll keep judgment and punishment to the souls sent to me.
Not sure it’s doing any good, but at least it keeps me occupied. If I’m not busy, I’m thinking way too much, and no one likes being around me when I’m brooding.
In my suite, I head straight to the sideboard, cleared of wine carafes and now stocked with the best bourbons from the First Dimension. I pour myself a glass and wish I could get drunk on this stuff, but I can’t. It’s just not strong enough for fae, but I like the taste.
I step out to the balcony, bypassing the only chair remaining in the living area. I haven’t replaced the furniture I destroyed the day I sent Nyssa away. It’s not important.
Granted, when Thalia came to visit a few weeks ago, it wasn’t exactly comfortable since there was nowhere for everyone to sit, but I wasn’t in the mood for company, anyway. It didn’t take her long to figure that out. When she asked where Nyssa was, my curt reply—“Gone”—immediately worried her.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she’d asked.
“No.”
And she didn’t ask again. In fact, no one asks, and that’s the way I prefer it.
I lean against the balcony rail and look out over Otaxis. The streets are bustling, and if I had any common sense, I’d go down to have some fun. Drinks with my subjects and any number of fae beauties I could fuck.
It would get my mind off…
Nope. Refuse to think about it. I sling back the bourbon and turn on my heel, intent to pour another.
I come to a dead halt, though, when I see Zora in the one chair left in the living area.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as I walk past her to the liquor.
“Thought I’d drop in… see how things are going.”
“Want a drink?” I ask.
“I’m good.”
I open the decanter, pour a generous three fingers, and take a sip. I stay at the sideboard, my back to Zora, and wait for her to say something.
She remains quiet as a mouse, though, and my nerves are frazzled from the millions of questions swirling in my head.
I finally turn and ask the most important one. “How is she?”
I haven’t seen Zora since Nyssa left. I have no idea what she did with her, but I expect she gave her a great life near her brother as negotiated. I’ve resisted time and time again calling out to the god of Life to demand an update.
Zora taps her fingers on the armrest. “She’s good.”
Another sip of the bourbon. “Is she happy?”
“I don’t know.” She stares at me with her gem-colored eyes, and I know she’s going to make me work for it.
“You do know,” I accuse. “You know everything. You’re a fucking god, for fuck’s sake.”
Zora stares at me without expression, refusing to engage with my impertinence.
I tip the glass, pouring the bourbon down my throat, and give my back to Zora again. I pour another glass, this time almost to the top. Who knows, maybe I can get drunk.
The silence is almost deafening, and after taking another hefty swig, I drop my head and sigh. “I want her back.”
“I told you you were making a mistake,” she chides.
I glare at her over my shoulder. “Do you want a medal or something?”
Zora stands, her face a mask of anger. Her hair lifts and crackles as she says, “Careful, Amell. I have a soft spot for you, but it doesn’t mean it will always be that way.”
I should apologize, but I don’t. I just stare at my drink sitting on the sideboard, my hand curled around it. “I want to fix it with her. Bring her back to me.”
“I can’t,” Zora says.
I wheel around. “You can. You have the power.”
“I can’t,” she says. “Not because I don’t have the power but because Nyssa has a new life. She has free will. I’m not forcing her back here.”
“Then ask her if she’ll come so—”
“Amell,” Zora snaps, and I blink at her. “I’m not doing any of this for you. You want to fix it, you fix it, but leave me out of it.”