A Kingdom of Lies (Realm of Fey #2)

CHAPTER 8

I squinted, trying to focus through the tears and firelight, a new panic searing out of me as I took in the reality before me. “You can’t be here,” I shouted over the flames, voice hoarse. “I don’t need you, Althea. Gyah. You need to leave. Now .”

“You absolutely do need us. Look at what you have done, the mistakes you are making.” Althea gestured to the tavern behind me. A smudge of ash marked her high cheekbone, her skin glowing against the fire, deep reds that matched the braid hanging over her shoulder. “This isn’t going to bring your father back.”

“I agree with the princess, Robin. This madness must stop. We understand what you’ve lost, but that doesn’t justify losing yourself.” The second figure shifted to her side. Gyah. Her golden eyes were bright, even from a distance, as though the creature within begged to be released. “It’s easy to drown in grief. Trust me. We can help keep you afloat.”

They both surveyed me with weapons in hands. Althea with her flame, Gyah with a tall blade.

Tears streamed down my face, threatening to blind me. “You can’t possibly understand what I feel. Not you, not Althea.”

“We can compare cock sizes another time, or perhaps save the conversation for somewhere less… public.” Gyah looked around the circular space created within Althea’s fire, beads of sweat dripping down her dark bronze skin. It was not the fire she studied, but the outline of silhouettes beyond it. Humans. The moment the wall of fire was dropped I was confident that many would be standing watch around us.

“Isn’t this what you want, Robin?” Althea called, lips pulled tight in a snarl. “To create a spectacle? We heard rumours about a fey, you haven’t kept your appearance here very secret. Do you even understand what you have done. Whose gazes are turning towards you!”

Of course I did. It was the very reason I was here. But Althea and Gyah had to leave before those people came.

My tears dried upon my cheeks, hissing near the heat of Althea’s fire. “Turn away whilst you can, Althea. If you know what is coming, you know to leave. I don’t need you for what I have to do.”

“Don’t you?” She tilted her head to the side. “I understand you are hurting. I understand that you are acting out of pain. But it is my duty, as your friend, to stop you from making more bad decisions.”

“Hurry,” Gyah warned, knees bending as she lowered herself like a cat ready to pounce. She sensed something beyond the fire, something that set her on edge. “We do not have long.”

Althea stepped forward, extending a hand out towards me. Ruby flames licked around her fingers like a glove. Although her expression burned with anger, her eyes softened with a sorrow that I recognised as a friend. “Come back with me, Robin. You will not find peace here. We will find another way.”

“It’s not peace I’m searching for.”

Althea’s hand trembled, but she refused to drop it back to her side. “Then what is this all for? You have come here and left a perfectly mapped trail behind you for anyone to follow. The Hunters are coming for you after your short stay in Ashbury; you have practically begged them to find you. And when they do, there is nothing I can do to stop them.”

“Turn away.” Even I could hear the dark edge in my voice. “Let them come for me.”

I felt detached from the moment. Where Althea’s warning of the Hunters should have brought on fear within me, it now conjured the opposite.

“Why?” Althea asked, voice no more than a whisper.

Because I have a plan. One that requires the attention of the very people I escaped Durmain from.

“Your family refused me an army, so I have gone searching for one elsewhere–”

“I strongly suggest we finish this conversation another time!” Gyah shouted.

I glanced just as she shifted forms, skin melting into shadow and retracting into the long, scaled body of the winged beast that lurked within her.

Gyah shouted again, a roar that hid the undertones of her warning to get down.

That was when the air whistled as a bolt struck through the wall of fire. Time seemed to slow as I watched the sharp edge of the projectile pass inches from Althea’s body; only a whisper of hair moved. Althea gasped, turning back to look as another bolt hissed through the air.

This time, the projectile’s aim was true and met its mark.

A scream of pain tore through the night as Althea fell to her knees. Her hands reached for the short splinter of wood that protruded from her thigh. My senses exploded to life in that moment, as though a bucket of iced water had been thrown upon my head.

I moved for Althea, who writhed on the ground. It became hard to see her as the wall of fire dropped, no longer fuelled by her magic. With the dispersion of the heat came the rushing of darkness again.

Gyah roared, wings flaring wide in warning, threatening the many who stood around us.

Hunters . They found me, just as I wanted. Except this wasn’t my plan, not with Althea and Gyah. They should never have followed me.

Hunters greeted us down the scope of crossbows, each with readied bolts pointed towards us. A wall of shadows armed with weapons.

Althea grabbed my tunic and dragged me down towards her. “My magic. It – it is gone.”

A loud pop sounded in the distance. I looked away from Althea’s paled, pain-creased face to the sky. At first it looked as though the stars themselves were falling from the heavens. I blinked, unable to make sense of what I was watching.

Then the noise of clinking metal revealed the truth.

By the time I realised what was happening, I couldn’t warn Gyah.

A web of chains fell from the sky, unravelling into a blanket as it cascaded over the hissing Eldrae. The moment the net touched Gyah, her scales melted away. Smoke curled from the creature’s body, now held down by the heavy metal web, until she writhed in her fey form upon the cobbled street.

Iron. It had to be. The only element strong enough to subdue a fey’s power. The same as the bolt protruding out of Althea’s thigh.

Althea was still kneeling on the ground as she choked out, “Fight, Robin. They’ll kill us.”

“I would strongly suggest not resisting,” a deep voice rumbled out from the wall of Hunters. “Surrender yourself peacefully, and no blood needs to be shed.”

“Do something… Robin.” Althea’s grip on my tunic was failing. Her eyes fluttered as she struggled to keep them open.

I looked from the Cedarfall Princess, who wrestled with consciousness, to the powerless Eldrae, who didn’t move beneath the web of chains, then to the Hunters; countless, narrowed eyes poised above weapons staring unflinchingly at me.

“I’m sorry, Althea…” I muttered, pulling myself from her weak grip as I stood. “I warned you. You should never have followed me.”

“What have you done…?” Her whisper haunted me as I regarded the army of Hunters, turning my back on her.

I did what I thought was right, but now I had to pay the price and hope it was worth it.

“Steady!” That deep voice shouted again, followed by the shifting of bolts and the taut pulling of strings. “Ready yourselves in case our friend here has a valiant change of heart.”

Slowly, I raised my hands at my sides. The last thing I needed was for them to see me more as a threat. I had an innate awareness of the many humans watching from the safety of the King’s Head tavern and the surrounding buildings that lined Grove’s streets.

This was a spectacle that couldn’t be missed, one they would likely gloat about for generations.

I lifted my head, jutting out my chin and rounding my shoulders back. It was time to be the king I continued to convince everyone I was. The first set was letting the unnatural authority ooze into my voice.

“I request an audience with the Hand,” I called out above the ruckus. Clearly my request was a surprise, because the Hunters calmed to an almost silence. Until the laughter began.

“Surely my ears deceive me. Have I just heard you correctly?”

Although I couldn’t see the person speaking, that didn’t take away from the intense gaze pinned to me, how it scorched my skin from head to foot.

My hands shook violently, my legs numb, but I fought to keep control over my voice. To keep it steady. “You heard me correctly. I wish for an audience with the Hand,” I repeated, swallowing a lump that crept into my throat.

“Ah, I see. This was all some grand plan to get our attention, was it?”

I nodded, knowing the speaker could see me. “Yes.”

I wasn’t going to fight. It would have been pointless, and that was never part of my plan. Nor was Althea and Gyah being here when the inevitable happened.

The chains above Gyah and the bolt in Althea’s thigh suppressed their powers. One wrong move from me and I would be in the same situation.

Iron. Each of the Hunters was armed with it. I would be next if I was not careful.

“As I am sure you are not surprised to hear, you are in no position to make demands.” The speaker finally stepped forward, separating from the wall of Hunters.

A man, dressed in the same black tunic and trousers as those behind him. The only difference was the cloak he wore. Even in the dark street I could see the shimmer of red silk beneath the cloak and the small, white hand mark embroidered across his chest. “However, I’m intrigued to hear what you wish to say to the Hand. Usually the fey run from the mention of him, not towards him. Go on, spit it out before I bury a bolt in your head.”

“I’m merely accepting his invitation–”

The Hunter snatched a crossbow from another near him and raised it towards me as he stalked forward, making me flinch. Physically angered by my comment, the Hunter didn’t stop until he was a foot in front of me, our boots touching and the sharp tip of a bolt tickling the skin between my eyes.

“Cuff the others!”

Twin emerald eyes hardly blinked as he shouted the command to those behind him. Eyes I recognised, the bright green so poignant even in the dark. I could hardly risk a breath as I listened to the footfalls around us. If I dared look away from the Hunter, I was fearful the bolt would find itself buried within my head before I even had the chance to get what I required.

All I could do was look at him, wide-eyed, as he watched me.

“Hello, again,” he said, confirming what my inner anxiety suggested. We had met one another. “It’s not every day you get to capture the same fey, in the same place, again. What a pleasant surprise.”

I took him in, his features caught in the glow of the tavern behind me.

The Hunter’s dark brown hair hung above his shoulders. The lack of distance helped me discern the colour, hidden strands of honey among deep russet. He was tall – enough that I had to lift my chin to keep a hold of his stare – but not so tall that I’d get a crick in my neck after a while. Beside the snarl etched into his face, and the creasing crow’s feet beside his hate-filled eyes, the main feature that stood out was carved beneath his eye, a scar that ran from its outer corner down to his cheek, as though a tear had left a mark that could never be removed.

“You,” I said, knowing this was the same man that James Campbell had run me out my house to crash into.

His bright eyes narrowed. “You. How does it feel now that you have the attention you have clearly desired? Never have I met a fey with a death wish quite like you.”

I wouldn’t allow myself to blink. I wouldn’t miss a sudden move from the stranger.

“There are not exactly clear instructions on finding your kind ,” I muttered, heart thundering in my chest. It was so loud I was certain the Hunter could hear it. “I figured you would find me. Save me a job.”

“And find you we did,” the Hunter whispered, eyes narrowed as he regarded me. “Why do you not fight?”

“What good would that do?” I replied, trying to keep myself still.

“For you,” he breathed, a faint smile creasing his face. “No good at all. For me… it would make my evening one to remember. It’s the excuse I need to see the life drain from your eyes when this iron pierces your skull.”

He was telling the truth. I could almost sense his tension as his finger hovered above the crossbow’s trigger.

“What’s stopping you?” I asked quietly, breath fogging before me, magic begging to rise in protection.

I squashed it down, knowing every single move had to be careful.

The silence that followed allowed me to catch the string of pungent swears from Gyah as she tried to fight against those who must have rallied around her. What unnerved me most was the silence from Althea.

“I wouldn’t be able to answer that,” the Hunter snarled, pressing the sharp bolt into my forehead. I gritted my teeth against the prick of iron into my flesh. “If I had it my way, this conversation would not be happening. But alas, there is someone watching out for you.”

I couldn’t help the audible sigh of relief when the crossbow lowered. The bolt tip had cut my skin, deep enough to draw blood that dribbled into my line of sight, but shallow enough to begin knitting together.

“The Hand?” I asked, keeping my hands fisted at my sides.

“His hospitality might waver when he learns of the body you have left, shattered into bloodied pieces, in the tavern behind you.”

My skin shivered, stomach twisting in disgust. “I’m not the only one with blood on my hands. I’ve witnessed your Hunters murder a fey, treat them like cattle for the slaughter. And the reasoning? Shall we compare and see whose conscience is less scarred by their actions?”

“ General Rackley,” another Hunter interrupted, snatching the attention of the scarred man before me. “Shall I cuff this one?”

“No.” His deep voice rumbled with restrained fury. “This one is mine .”

General Rackley. That too was a name I’d heard, spoken from the Hunters in the camp before Erix arrived.

It was clear the scarred man was in charge here, evident from the subtle glances and nervous auras of those near him. They, like me, feared him.

“Master… Rackley,” I said, testing his name, trying to show a lick of respect in hopes it saved me.

“My name is Duncan,” he added, sweeping his eyes over me a final time.

“What does it matter what I call you?”

His smile crept over his lips, twisting my insides into a maelstrom of fear. “Because when you die, and you will die eventually, I think it’s important you take the name of your murderer to whatever realm you find yourself in next.”

His words and his name rang in my head as loud as unwanted bells during early morning. He snatched the strange shaped object from the Hunter’s hands and shoved the crossbow at him. Slowly, Duncan turned back to me, enigmatic smile plastered across his face, as he lifted the metal towards me. It took a moment to realise where I had last seen that iron collar, wrapped around the necks of the fey at the Hunter’s camp, the fey who held magic that required iron to subdue.

“That isn’t necessary. I won’t fight you.” I couldn’t fight the desire to step back as Duncan moved the contraption towards my neck. But he lashed out, firm hands gripping me and keeping me in place. “It is unnecessary for me to wear that. I wanted you to come here. This was all to get your attention. If I wanted you dead,” I snarled, “you already would be. I’m not your enemy.”

“You. Are. My. Enemy,” Duncan snarled, body stiff and lip curled. He struck forward, thrusting the cuff around my neck in an instant; it snapped shut with a click that set my nerves ablaze.

I reached up, fingers desperately pulling at the lip of the cuff that closed around my skin. The desperate need to get the cuff removed was so all-consuming that I hardly noticed the heavy and hollow cavern that my body had become – severed from my magic once again.

My mind caught up and I stopped my struggle. Duncan stepped backwards, a true and honest smile filling his devilish face.

“It suits you,” Duncan said as he turned his back on me. I was left to watch the wall of Hunters race towards me with outstretched hands. True to my word, I didn’t fight them as the Hunters grabbed and pulled at me. All I cared about was pleading for my friends, begging that they were spared, even though each word was wasted breath.

What have I done.