I haven’t quite figured out the details as Amell is very tight-lipped about his relationship with Zora, the new god of Life, but she installed him as the king. I get the feeling they were close prior to her ascension to god status, but that there’s also some bad blood. I want to know more, but seeing as how we’re only two weeks into our newfound relationship, I’m not going to venture there yet.
When dinner is over, Heph and I clean up. While Amell is incredibly helpful in teaching me dark magics, he’s a prima donna in that he refuses to do housework.
“I’m king of the Underworld,” he’s said on more than one occasion when Heph suggested he help clear the table. “I have minions to do that for me.”
I’d snort and Heph would roll his eyes, but that’s our new dysfunctional family.
“Ready to head down to the pub?” Heph asks Amell. That has become their ritual each night, heading off together for a few beers.
I’m invited, of course, but I actually cherish the alone time. It lets me refill my well, and tonight I plan on a nice, long bubble bath.
“I’ll meet you down there,” Amell says as he slouches back in his chair. “I’d like to spend some time with Thalia.”
Both Heph and I freeze, shoot each other a glance, and then look inquiringly at Amell.
He nods as if he understands our silent request for explanation. “I’m going back to the Underworld tonight. I want a bit of time with Thalia, and then I’ll be down for a pint with you, Heph, before I leave.”
I hold my tongue, even though I want to argue against this. I’ve gotten used to having Amell here. He’s one of the most powerful creatures in the world—no matter the dimension—and knowing he’s at my back has given me courage.
But I wait until Heph leaves because I want this to remain private between us. I also have a feeling I’m going to get vulnerable, and while I’m okay showing that to Amell, I don’t want Heph to see it. He worries enough about me as it is.
I bring bottles of honey wine and whiskey to the table with cups. I pour a whiskey for Amell and a cup of honey wine for myself. Plopping down in my chair, I ignore my drink and ask him point-blank, “You haven’t taught me what I need to know, so why are you leaving?”
“I’ve taught you all you need to know,” he corrects me before lifting the glass for a sip. “You just need to utilize the knowledge I’ve given you.”
I knew he’d say that, and I also can’t argue. My fear is holding me back. “I assumed you’d be at my side during the battle.”
“You assumed wrong,” Amell says, not unkindly, but with a slightly harsh edge. “In fact, I think I might be holding you back. If you know you can’t rely on me, then maybe you’ll be forced to use your new skills.”
“That’s ridiculous—”
Amell holds up his hand. “Regardless, I am prohibited from interfering. If it were simply a matter of having me on your side, I would have killed Ferelith two weeks ago when you summoned me, and then we would’ve had a pleasant few weeks together getting acquainted.”
I frown. “Prohibited?”
“By Onyx.” Amell takes another sip and places the cup on the table. “The god of War.”
“And peace,” I mutter, disappointed by this news. “If she liked peace as much as war, she’d let you end it.”
“I cannot wield direct influence in the outcome,” he continues to explain.
“But you gave me shadow magic,” I point out.
Amell waves that off. “I also sent demons to Ferelith when she summoned them. Neither has a direct bearing on the outcome. But deep down, you knew I couldn’t get involved, or else you would have asked me to kill Ferelith when you summoned me.”
He’s right, of course. But I don’t have to like it.
“Onyx makes the calls on what type of assistance might be needed in wars, and that’s usually only in the form of sending in demigods.”
“Maddox,” I exclaim, remembering the demigod who first appeared to Bastien. “He took my protection ring, which forced Bastien to fetch me from the First Dimension.”
Amell’s eyes flash with something that borders on hate, and I frown at him. “Do you know this Maddox?”
“I’m leaving in but a few hours,” Amell says, refusing to answer my question. “I wanted you to have time to ask me about those topics you’ve been too afraid to broach yet.”
My face flushes hot as I immediately understand. “My mother,” I whisper.
“You’ve not shown a single curiosity about how you were conceived,” he points out.
“I understand the mechanics of how it happened,” I grumble.
Amell glares at me. “You know what I mean. You’ve never asked for an explanation. I suspect you don’t want to hear potential ugly truths about Selena, so I’d like to assure you that your mother did nothing wrong.”