Bloodrush (The Scarlet Star Trilogy Book 1) by Ben Galley

morning,’ his aunt was saying, her voice penetrating Merion’s daze of dissatisfaction. She put her hands on her hips, and watched Merion lower his rucksack to the floor. His eyes roved over the rickety old bed that took up most of the small room.
    ‘I’ll get some cutters and nip off that popped spring in the morning. In the meantime, don’t impale yourself,’ she said, with a hint of a smile. ‘I’m joking.’
    Eyeing the dust on the headboard and the windowsill behind it, he knew it was a dumb question, but he asked it anyway. ‘Do you have any servants?’
    Lilain nodded. ‘Fourteen of them.’
    Merion’s head had already snapped around before he realised she was joking. Yet again. He sighed. ‘Why are you not angry with me?’
    Lilain threw him a confused look. ‘Should I be?’
    ‘I shouted at you.’
    Lilain threw her hands up in the air. ‘And you had a right to. I make too many jokes. I know that. Should have known you’d want to blow off some steam. Spend enough time on the rail, you start to think you’re a locomotive,’ she told him. ‘Now, we good here?’ Lilain thumbed at the door.
    Merion was still churning over his aunt’s answer. ‘But children are not to shout at grown-ups,’ he replied, automatically reciting one of his father’s many lessons.
    Lilain stepped forwards and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Nephew, you’re in Fell Falls, Wyoming. All children are grown-ups here, the moment they set foot on that dusty platform. You’ll see. If you stay, that is.’
    Merion sniffed. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you.’
    Lilain eyed the rucksack with her grey eyes. ‘We’ll talk about that in the morning. I have to … you know.’ His aunt jabbed another thumb at the door. She was so unlike his father, Merion thought. How could this animated, chatty undertaker be a Hark?
    ‘Carve up a dead body,’ he said flatly.
    Lilain shrugged. ‘There’s also a dog, but that’s a favour for a friend. It can wait ’til morning,’ she replied, and then added, ‘Right, off to work. Sleep well, Merion. It truly is a pleasure to have you here.’ Lilain paused for a moment, her hand resting on the doorframe. She fixed him with a stare. Had it not been for her smile, Merion would have found it rather intimidating. ‘I have so much to tell you,’ she said.
    Merion just bowed, and said goodnight.
    Only after his aunt had shut the door, and he had heard her footsteps on the basement steps, did he unfasten the flap of the rucksack. Rhin stood on a folded jumper, tapping his foot and grinning. ‘I like her,’ he said.
    ‘You would. She’s an exile. Just like you.’
    ‘Hey,’ Rhin glared. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of a free spirit. You should listen to her, Merion. Give her a chance, at least for a little while.’
    The faerie had never seen the boy’s face so resolute, so hard. ‘No, Rhin,’ he said, ‘my father’s murderer must be found, and I have to get back to London. I’m not going to argue about it. My mind’s made up.’
    Rhin shrugged and hopped onto the lip of the pack. ‘Fine. Then I’m staying here.’
    Merion mirrored his shrug and looked away. He found himself staring at the door. ‘Have it your way,’ he told the faerie.
    Rhin began to rummage under the bed, where he found an old suitcase with a gaping hole in its side. ‘Almost as though she knew I were coming,’ he chuckled, rubbing his hands. He poked his head inside and hummed. ‘Needs a clean, but otherwise perfect.’
    ‘Glad somebody is happy here.’
    ‘Why don’t you unpack? Take your mind off it,’ Rhin advised, from somewhere inside the suitcase.
    Merion thought about it, but the thought of finding places for his things made the situation seem a touch too permanent for his liking. He wouldn’t be here long, after all.
    Merion suddenly had an idea. He put his hand on the doorknob and muttered more to himself than to Rhin. ‘I think I might get some answers while I’m here.’
    ‘Sure