CHAPTER 10
Finley
I watch Zora reach for another croissant, which has become her favorite breakfast food, meaning Zaid has made sure there are plenty every morning. He set us up to eat out on the patio even though it’s a little chilly, but once he fires up the outdoor heaters, it ends up being simply perfect.
My elbows on the table, both hands around my coffee cup as it hovers in front of my face, I watch Zora slather butter and jelly on the flaky pastry and then take a large bite. I have no clue if someone taught her table etiquette in the Underworld, but I think the way she attacks food has less to do with manners and more to do with taste and abundance.
I look down at my bowl of fruit and oatmeal, and then longingly at the croissants in the center of the table.
Fuck it.
You only live once, right?
Well, actually, I’ve lived many more than that, but I am currently in this life. Putting my coffee down, I glance at my watch before reaching for a croissant. Before long, we’ll be heading over to One Bean. The interior re-build is done, so there’s nothing left to do but move in equipment, furniture, and decor. Rainey wants to show off her progress today.
It will be Zora’s first foray out of the condo and into the city.
The last three days, everyone has given us space to hang out as we continue to learn about each other. As evidenced by Carrick taking his breakfast in the kitchen with Maddox, Titus, and Zaid while we sit out here looking over the Sound on another uncharacteristically sunny day.
While Maddox is living at the condo permanently now, Titus is not. He explained he has a hotel where he stays in the evenings, but he spends his days at the condo since we continually discuss options, plans, and contingencies. He and I have started working out together in the gym each day… just like old times.
I’ve learned a lot about my sister the last few days, but it’s mainly surface stuff. Most of it revolves around the differences between the Earth realm and the Underworld as she makes continual and delightful discoveries.
For example, the first time she tasted a strawberry, I thought she might faint from pure pleasure. I learned there was no such thing as fruit in the Underworld. There was merely protein derived from animals that were cultivated there—and I shudder at the memory of some I had seen during my dream trip—grain from low-yielding crops grown with artificial sunlight through magic and a handful of vegetable varieties grown the same way.
There were not a lot of choices to those that lived outside of the castle, although Zora told me that sometimes Amell would bring her delicacies he was able to get from his trips through the veil. He was one such Dark Fae that had the power to do so.
I was also shocked to learn that Kymaris had the same ability to travel through the veil and she would sometimes travel to the Earth realm. But she never stayed long, returning to her duties as supreme ruler of the Underworld where she quietly bided her time to enact the changeling ritual that would give her tremendous powers for her permanent escape from Hell.
So no, Zora didn’t have the luxuries of ripe fruit, farm fresh eggs, or flaky croissants. She even found processed foods to be almost magical to her existence. When I showed her a can of soup, she was so fascinated by the can opener, she opened several cans in the pantry to taste what was inside. It was the canned beets that ultimately stopped her raid. She proclaimed them vile as she washed her mouth out in the kitchen sink.
Of course, any time she turned on a faucet, she would get sidetracked by the mere convenience of running water that was temperature controlled.
They had water in Otaxis since the Underworld had been divinely created for creatures to exist there, which meant the basics to sustain life were provided. But water came in rivers, streams, and small ponds. Rudimentary plumbing went to bathhouses, but the water was not warmed. Toilet facilities were shared among a grouping of homes or apartment buildings. Any water needed for cooking was from an outdoor pump and brought inside.
It was crude living at best, yet it was all Zora ever knew. She hadn’t realized there was a better way, so she had no complaints.
But now that she was experiencing these things—for example, bubble baths, television, and central heating and air—I could tell she was starting to comprehend just how bad she’d had it.
And because of that realization, she stopped exclaiming in delight over the wonders of this world and started having moody reflections about what she had lost by being kidnapped from it as a baby. While she never quite opened up and poured these feelings out to me, she would make short remarks that fed my growing anger toward Kymaris and what she had done to Zora. I decided to leave it alone, knowing if her own anger continued to build, I would hopefully be the one she would fully open up to.
When the patio door slides open, Maddox saunters out, giving me the barest flicker of a smile in greeting before his gaze moves to Zora. He’s made no attempt to hide his interest in my sister, either through focused looks or overt flirting.
Half of it goes over her head, and the half that she gets makes her irritable. Either way, she blows him off every time.
I had considered stepping in and telling Maddox to leave her alone, but when I realized Zora’s greatest emotions seem to come from fending off his attentions, I backed off. No matter what anyone says, that woman needs to learn how to feel emotion.
“Good morning,” Maddox drawls as he approaches the table, eyes pinned on Zora. She’s me in every way except the white hair, yet Maddox has never looked at me that way.
And I know damn well it’s not her white hair that has him so intrigued.
Zora ignores him, pulling another croissant from the platter and putting butter on it. Maddox reaches into the fruit bowl and nabs a few blackberries, tossing them into his mouth one at a time as he patiently waits for Zora to give him some attention.
I watch silently.
When she doesn’t, even after she’s finished putting jelly on her croissant, Maddox places a hand on the table and bends slightly toward her. “I suppose you wouldn’t be willing to share your croissant with me, would you, sweet?”
Zora lazily swings her gaze his way. She smiles, reaches her hand out as if she’s handing him the bread. Maddox blinks in surprise, straightens, and moves to take the offering.
Except before his hand makes it there, she drops it from her own, watching as it tumbles to the ground. She nods down at it, her smile going flat. “Hope you enjoy it.”
Maddox isn’t in the slightest bit offended, which is actually why I don’t ask him to stop these silly flirtations. He takes every bit of disdain Zora throws at him in stride, and I know it’s because, deep down inside, he recognizes—like the rest of us do—that she comes from horrendous circumstances and needs more time to adjust.
Slapping his hand to his heart dramatically, he says, “Oh… that hurts, love.”
“Not your love,” she mutters, snatching another croissant to doctor back up for her consumption.
Maddox shoots me a glance, winks, and turns on his booted heel to leave us alone again.
“He’s very annoying,” Zora says primly when the patio door shuts behind the demi-god.
“That’s his way of trying to get you to smile and open up,” I explain.
Zora snorts, and it’s the first time I’ve actually seen her show genuine amusement. “Finley,” she drawls, giving me a chastising look. “He merely wants to have sex with me, is all.”
“No,” I immediately deny, picking up my coffee to take a sip. Although I know Maddox is indeed attracted to her, he’d never press that right now.
“Yes,” she asserts, and then picks off a piece of croissant. Holding it before her mouth, she looks me straight in the eye. “He’s going about it wrong, though. If he wants to have sex, he just has to ask. All this other stuff he does to get my attention is wearing on me.”
I suck coffee into my airway, then start choking and coughing, I’m so stunned by her actual insight into the male psyche and that she’s
so matter-of-fact about it.
Taking note of my reaction, she asks, “What?”
Shaking my head, I give her an apologetic look. “Nothing. Sorry. It’s just… you’re very cavalier about sex.”
Zora shrugs. “I’ve only ever had it with Amell, and it feels amazing. Don’t you view it the same way?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation, but then lower my voice as I lean forward. “It’s just… sex is often tied up with emotions. In our society, you usually get to know someone a little bit before you have sex with them. That’s why Maddox is trying to get you to open up to him with his flirting.”
Zora turns to look thoughtfully at the sliding glass door before shrugging. Bringing her attention back to me, she says, “Wasted energy. Like I said… if he wants sex, he just needs to get to the point.”
I’m stunned silent a moment before I ask, “And would you have sex with him?”
Another shrug. “He’s pleasing to look at. He seems like he’d be good at it.”
“What about Amell?” I ask hesitantly.
“What about him?” she replies, brow furrowed.
And never has it been more apparent than it is in this moment that Zora was raised in a society that is radically different than ours. Love isn’t something to strive for. Apparently, sex is only about how the body feels. And loyalties to a person don’t extend into physical relationships. It’s all so fascinating and, yet, in these modern times, it’s actually what many women strive for. I know lots of people who are all about the friends-with-benefits lifestyle.
I decide it’s time to change the subject. I really don’t want to know more about Zora’s sexual proclivities, nor do I feel like I need to dissuade her from Maddox. If they have sex, so be it. I know he won’t hurt her heart, because hers is encased in a thick wall.
And Maddox isn’t looking for anything serious, so he wouldn’t be hurt either.
To each his own.
But since Zora is in a talking mood, I take advantage. “Can I ask where you were raised while you were in the Underworld?”
Zora’s eyes move from her croissant to me, then back to the croissant where she pulls off another piece. She puts it in her mouth, chews slowly, and swallows now that she’s been somewhat satiated by the first one she ate. “A Dark Fae couple took me in. Gave me a bed, some clothes, and provided me with food. In return, Amell gave them tokens, but he visited me regularly. He took it upon himself to educate me with books he brought back from the Earth realm.”
I had previously learned that their system of currency was by wooden coins called tokens that could be used to buy goods. I had shown her our currency as well as explained banks, interest, credit cards, and PayPal. This was after I had shown her a computer, which had completely boggled her.
“Why didn’t Amell just have you live with him?” I ask.
Zora’s expression says she thinks that’s a dumb question. “He’s royalty. He lives in the castle. I was a lowly human.”
“That doesn’t make you lowly,” I retort in offense for my sister.
“Did you know that was all I was called for years?” she asks, a slight bitterness to her voice. “Human. In fact, I didn’t even know the word human was my species classification. I actually thought it was a name.”
My throat goes desert dry. “You’re kidding?” I manage to rasp.
Zora shakes her head. “It wasn’t until I was in my teens… I don’t know what age, but I know my body was starting to change. My breasts were getting fuller, and I had my period. I didn’t understand those things and neither did the Dark Fae I lived with. So I asked Amell on one of his visits. He was the one who finally sat me down and told me what a human was. He also explained my periods and pregnancy—although pregnancy would be irrelevant to me since humans can’t procreate with fae—and made sure I had appropriate undergarments and tampons from the Earth realm to use.”
“Fuck,” I murmur in disgust.
“Amell named me, too,” Zora says, a tiny smile of fondness gracing her beautiful face. “He actually named me Zorasha, which means little bird, but he only calls me Zora.”
“Your name is very beautiful,” I say, which is the truth. But it’s also the only thing I can think to say right now. Otherwise, I might start a cursing rant about how unfair life was to her.
Another shrug because she doesn’t care for compliments. “Amell found me a home of my very own to live in and ended up giving me tokens so I could care for myself.”
“How old were you?” I ask, wondering if she even knows such things as she had told me before that birthdays were irrelevant.
“Sixteen,” she replies without hesitation.
I frown in confusion. “So you did recognize your birthday each year?”
“I told you celebrations were irrelevant,” she chides. “But Amell always reminded me each year of the day I was brought to the Underworld. So I had been there sixteen years when he moved me to my own place.”
“That seems a little young,” I muse out.
“He didn’t like the way the couple I lived with treated me,” she replied flatly. “Moreover, he didn’t like how the male started looking at me as I got older.”
I can’t stop the full-body shudder as I realize how vulnerable Zora was there. Not just to abuse and being an outcast, but to violations to her body.
“Did he… were you…”
I can’t even bring myself to ask.
“Nothing was ever taken from me that I wasn’t willing to give,” Zora says, understanding my concern.
“And you willingly gave to Amell.” My tone is soft, nonjudgmental. Clearly, Amell was a saving grace to her, even though he’s evil and loyal to Kymaris.
“I sort of forced myself on him,” Zora says with a grin, and I can see pride gleaming in her eyes. “I knew what sex was, because Amell had told me about it in the years past when he explained my periods and pregnancy. I figured out how to pleasure myself on my own. I wanted to put two and two together, and Amell was the one I wanted to do it with.”
I’m simply amazed at my sister. Despite the circumstances in which she was raised, her confidence in herself is astounding.
Lifting my coffee cup, I take a quick sip. “And um… how old were you when you and Amell…”
Zora tips her head in curiosity, wondering why that’s even a relevant question. One day, I’ll explain our societal rules with age and sex. I’m relieved when she answers, though. “It was just a few years ago. I had noticed he looked at me differently, especially when he’d take me flying—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I interrupt, holding my hand up. “Change of subject. He’d take you flying?”
“It brought me joy,” she explains. “Amell liked to see me happy, so yes… he took me flying starting when I was fairly young. I’ve been all over the Underworld with him.”
“And when you got older?” I press, because, gosh, it seems so romantic that the handsome Dark Fae would take young Zora on trips through the great caverns of the Underworld simply because flight brought her joy.
For the first time since my sister joined me here in the Earth realm, I see a true look of genuine happiness on her face. “Just a few years ago, I learned to fly myself.”
“What?” I exclaim, scooting my chair back slightly.
And then I almost pass out from shock when, with a huge rustling sound, wings erupt behind Zora and flare outward. White as her hair, delicate and not overly large. They tremor slightly, the feathers puffing out, and then she folds them back to where I can’t see them.
There’s no holding me back. I jump out of my chair and walk around the table, behind her chair to look at her back. Reaching out, I move her long hair out of the way. The long-sleeved flannel she’s wearing is undisturbed, but I don’t think I expected to see ripped material. The wings are obviously magical, and she could make them appear how she wanted to.
Slowly, I walk back around her chair, staring at Zora in amazement.
She tips her head
back to make eye contact, lowering her voice secretively. “This is how I have power.”
“What do you mean?” I whisper.
“Amell wanted me to be able to fly, so every time they pushed magic into me and twisted it dark, he taught me how to harness some of it and hold it tight in a place all to myself. From there, it grew and grew over time. He had wanted me to have something when it was all over that I could use to bring me joy, and probably to help protect myself to some extent.”
“He gave you the ability to fly?” I say in amazement, and then I’m completely thunderstruck. “It’s why you and I have matching feathers on our legs. Why they appeared when Kymaris left stasis and entered the changeling. I thought there was some sort of angel connection but that doesn’t really make sense. It has to do with your wings and love of flying. I bet when she left to come to Earth, and you held tight to the power you’d been hiding, somehow our twin bond breached the veil too and we became tethered. The feather must just be a symbol born of your love of flying.”
Zora shrugs, clearly not caring too much about the significance.
My mind starts racing as I move back to my chair. I wonder if I can give myself wings to fly? I also wonder how deep Zora’s powers go and if they are completely dark, or if she held onto anything light when Pyke first juiced her up?
I would find those things out, but I ask her something that’s actually more pressing. “There’s going to be a battle with Kymaris. Will you fight with us?”
Zora’s eyes come to mine, and the sparkle that had been there talking about wings and flight dies. “It’s not my battle.”
“No, but it’s mine,” I say, hoping she’s accepted a bit of the sisterly bond on some level. “And I’m asking you to help. You have powers, and we need every bit we can muster.”
Zora drops her half-eaten croissant on her plate, then wipes her hands with a napkin. “Finley… I don’t know what my powers are. I don’t know much of what I can do other than fly and apparently communicate with you telepathically.”
“How is that possible you don’t know how to use your powers?” I ask.
The Rise of Fortune and Fury Page 9
