A Kingdom of Lies (Realm of Fey #2)

CHAPTER 32

There were hundreds of fey and not a single one imprisoned, not in the sense I would’ve first expected. They walked freely among the monstrous cavern, speaking with each other and doing as they pleased. Some sat upon worn wooden stools, drinking from tankards and laughing with one another. Others were laid across cots along the far wall that had been lined up, side by side. Like ants in their hill, they scurried amongst each other, dressed in rags and mismatched clothing that made them look more like vagrants than fey.

It was a city beneath a city – a hidden place, a cavern of secrets.

“The Below is safe for the likes of us – for you, Robin. You will dwell here until called to stand before the Hand. Until that request comes, you must take advantage of your time here. Eat, wash and find something less… offensive to wear.”

My escorts gestured towards steps that jutted out of the cave wall, leading down to the lower ground. That was when I saw the guards, dressed in the same silver the Kingsmen had been garbed in above ground. There were no Hunters here.

The Kingsmen stood before an iron gate that had been welded into the stone wall as though it had always been there. From what I could see, it was clearly the only way into the cavern and the only way out as well. Yet not a single fey below me bothered to break free. No one stood before it nor did they plead with the Kingsmen for freedom as I imagined prisoners would’ve done. For beings who had been forcibly taken from their Courts, they seemed… comfortable.

Unless they’d given up – how long had they been here for? Weeks, months… years?

“Here,” the fey woman said and the one holding my chain offered it to me. It was a strange exchange, the passing of my chains from my captor to me. “When you go down, those guards will take the chain before you enter. There is no requirement for you to keep it on. Only the iron will remain, to keep you in line with our needs. Our suggestion, if you would listen… Do not fight against this fate. It is easier for you if you comply.”

I looked back down, hands weakly gripping the draining metal in my hands. “And if I resist?”

“Think of the Hunter you call Duncan.” They laughed, and for the first time, they did so out of their strange synchronisation. “Goodbye for now, Robin Icethorn. We will see each other soon.”

I watched them leave, all without knowing their names. Not that it mattered. They were puppets, their voices no longer their own. I didn’t know how the Hand controlled them, but I believed, without need for question, that he was their puppet master.

The Kingsmen at the bottom of the steps did as the women said they would. With a worn key, they disconnected the chain from the collar around my neck. With silent command, they urged me through the gate they had opened with a terrible screech, before locking it back behind me.

I stood, looking out at the underground city of my people, and lost myself to the horrifying realisation.

This was more than an army – but they were no good if they didn’t want to fight. From what I could see, they’d long given up. And I didn’t blame them. No one had come to save them, they’d grown complacent with their new lives here.

Fey moved before me, like water parting around stone. I stood among them. Not a single one looked towards me. And why would they? I was nothing special. No different to them, besides dirtier and clearly out of place: not a single one paid me mind.

I walked through the crowd blindly, having no idea what to do and where to go. As I passed through the cavern it became clearer that these fey, no matter if I believed them to be, were not prisoners. They were happy, speaking in loud, booming voices as they laughed and shared food.

“Lost?”

To my side sat a girl, leaning back on a chair with her legs up on another stool. Dark midnight hair tumbled over her shoulder – only one shoulder, for the other side of her head was shaved down to the scalp. There was nothing pretty about her face, sharp and pointed, her chin and cheekbones protruding through milky skin. But she was striking nonetheless, a face that would catch an eye, even in a crowd, like the glittering of a jewel.

“Unfortunately, no. I’m not,” I replied, stopping and studying her as she studied me.

“Don’t worry, it gets easier in a couple of days,” she said. “The fresh ones always take a few days to settle into their new life.”

“And are you the welcome party?” I replied.

“In a sense. Although, I usually only spare the time for the new ones who look like frightened little boys. And you’ve hardly blinked since walking over this way. That and the fact I saw you being carted in by the Hand’s faithful servants. The Twins are nasty bitches, they’re the true welcome party, the one that no one asked for.”

I glanced back, spying the balcony that waited far above us. I half expected to see both the women again, but they had left swiftly; the balcony was empty.

The girl leaned forward, the cuff around her neck worn from time. Resting an elbow on her knees, she reached out a hand. “Welcome to hell. But you’ll know it as the Below. Where the price for staying is blood and your tenancy never comes to an end.” She thrust out a hand between us. “The names Jesibel, but you can call me Jesi.”

It felt wrong to ignore her hand, so I took it, noticing just how strong her grip was.

“Robin,” I replied.

She barked, her laugh catching the attention of those around her. “Pretty name. We like pretty things down here, they are far and few between.”

I tried to snatch my hand away, but she held firm. Her eyes narrowed as she pushed up my sleeve and surveyed my skin with keen interest. “They have not taken from you yet then?”

“Excuse me?”

She dropped my hand without care. With an unimpressive huff Jesibel rolled her own sleeve up, flashing her moon-kissed skin. In the crook of her arm was a fresh, angry wound surrounded by a halo of red-stained skin. “Now, what makes you so special? Even the newbies are drained before entry. It is payment for this wonderfully comfortable accommodation we are provided with. Yet here you are, skin unmarked.”

“I’m sorry, Jesibel–”

“Please, Jesi is fine.”

“Jesi.” I forced a smile, unable to ignore how I annoyed her. “I saw that same mark on my escorts. The women had it on their arms as well.”

Just the memory of the welts made me want to reach out and scratch my own arm.

“Good to know that the Twins aren’t above paying with their blood like the rest of us then. It has been almost two weeks since I last paid my tithe. And far longer since this fucking iron has been free from my neck. Healing is slower as you will understand, but there is something about the leeches they use that hold off the skin’s regeneration, I’m sure of it. I think they soak in a bowl of iron-infused water or something. Hunch, but a strong one.”

So that was where the Hunters took the blood from. Leeches. My skin crawled at the thought. I believed the extraction to be far deadlier; images of necks sliced and skin flayed had not been impossible to imagine. But it made sense. Keeping the fey with power alive, taking blood and waiting, giving them time to refill until the next time they were bled for the Hand’s gain.

“Do you know what he does with it?” I asked, knowing that answers came easily from Jesi. I needed as many as I could get before I met him. “Your blood, that is.”

Jesi shrugged. “No. Not that it matters. Stuck here until we are bone dry, so what good is thinking about the above world anymore? My advice for you, Robin, is you should put the thoughts of the world you knew behind you. It’s what the world has done to us. The sooner you give up on it, the easier your future will become. Trust me.”

Pain. It started in my heart, before spreading down every limb and filling every vein. Jesi was but one of the products created when an entire realm forgot about her. The fey had been here all along, and we – the fey courts – had done nothing to help them.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her just how wrong she was now. But I didn’t have the heart to tell her of what my appearance meant. Not yet. If I was to inspire a revolt, it had to be at the right moment.

“Listen,” I said, the urgency that festered in my chest becoming hard to contain. “I need to get out of here.”

“Ha. Don’t we all. Don’t worry, that feeling will pass when you realise that leaving is not an option,” Jesi replied, a smirk across her lips but hardly reaching her eyes.

“You don’t understand…”

Jesi scrunched her nose, pulling a face of pure disgust as I got close to her. “You smell like shit warmed up, Robin. How about you have a wash before you put me off tonight’s dinner of gruel and bread. Wouldn’t want my hunger being ruined. If you follow the cavern to the far end, you will come across an area of fresh springs. Beside the springs is an area where you can be given clothes. There will be something in there that will fit you, no doubt.”

I looked where she pointed, noticing how the cavern we were in seemed to spread out further than imagined. This place was a system of interconnecting caves, a honeycomb of rock and stone filled with the bodies of fey stolen from their lands.

Jesi gave me a push as she leapt out of her chair. Even with the iron around her neck, she was still naturally strong. “What are you standing around for? Go and clean yourself.”

“But if I go, how will they find me again?”

“Who?”

“Those fey women, The Twins, they told me they’d come for me. You need to understand I have to be ready.”

“The Twins said that to you?” She tilted her head, intrigued.

I nodded, wanting nothing more than to return to the gate and demand the Kingsmen to take me to the Hand immediately. All I could think about was Duncan and what had happened to him, and what else was in store for him. The thought threatened me with a terrible sickness. It gripped my stomach and would have likely made me vomit if it had been full of food.

“I’ve been promised an audience with the Hand.” I felt the need to say it quietly. “And you need to understand that I cannot just wait here for them to get me at their own leisure. I don’t have the time to wait.”

“And the Twins told you this?” she repeated, as though saying it again would make it easier to believe. Her sharp brow rose, clearly proving she didn’t believe a word that came out of my mouth.

“Yes,” I snapped, annoyance itching at my skin. “They said they would come back. You don’t believe me?”

“Actually, I do.” Jesi gripped my upper arm, squeezing with a strength I couldn’t fathom. Her face was pinched, brows furrowed; there was a scar across one, slicing the dark lines in half. “The Twins do not lie. But I’m now wondering why you are so special to get a sit-down session with the Hand. Seems odd, doesn’t it?”

I gritted my teeth, aware of her nails digging into skin. “Let go of me, Jesi.”

She ignored my plea. “The Twins do not lie because they cannot lie. No one in the Below has ever seen the Hand. Except one. And if what you are saying is true… I think you need to come with me.”

She began pulling me towards a pocket of shadows within the rocks that snaked off into another system of caves. “Jesi, get off of me.”

We came to a stop, face to face. There was something distrusting about her stare. It was as black as her hair, seemingly blue when the strands caught the flames of the burning lanterns hammered into the walls. “Why would the Hand desire an audience with you, Robin?”

I swallowed, heartbeat thundering in my ears. Whatever I had said had caused such a visceral reaction from Jesi, triggering my anxiety to spark and spread like wildfire.

Others listened in now, watching our interaction as though they paid coin for a front row view of the show. I was not prepared to reveal everything about myself. With the reaction I had from the fey in Wychwood, I understood first hand that a good number of them had wished to see me dead. What was to say she wasn’t the same? That determined how long she, and those around me, had been captive. They could’ve shared in the same feeling.

My mind raced with possibilities. What if their reaction caused the scene I desired? A big enough one would draw the Kingsmen’s attention. Surely they’d remove me sooner if that was the case. That thought started as a spark in my mind, but soon exploded into an inferno of possibility.

So, I told Jesi the truth.

I spat my secret out, alongside my title as though it was the easiest thing to say aloud. “I’m Robin Icethorn, King of the Icethorn Court, and if you lay your fucking hands on me again you will find yourself without them.”

I kept my chin raised, my voice void of discomfort at what I said. I could only hope that they believed me. And the way Jesi reacted, eyes widening, and lips pulled tight into a white line, I knew she believed my false confidence. My breathing was laboured. I did everything to focus on the girl’s surprise, then darted my gaze around and registered the shock of the many who now watched.

Just when I thought Jesi would throw her head back and laugh, she surprised me again. She bowed, bending her knees, and lowering her back until I could see the top of her head. “My Court lives.” Jesi’s voice shook as she spoke. When she looked up at me, her dark eyes glistened with thick tears. And that was when I noticed our greatest familiarities. Her hair, her eyes, black as night and skin the colour of fresh-fallen snow.

I had no doubt, and required no confirmation, that Jesibel was an Icethorn fey. Like Eroan, the kind-hearted tailor, she was from my family’s Court. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost, which suggested she’d been captured by the Hunters before my existence became known to the fey.

“I can’t believe it…” she muttered, shaking her head as though the tears that clung to her dark eyes annoyed her. I watched, trying to hold onto my confidence but wanting nothing more than to break down and overload her with questions about the Court I’d claimed, but had not yet allowed myself to dwell within.

“It is true,” I said, calm voiced although my mind was a storm of anxiety.

“How – how did they take you from–” Jesi stopped herself, physically shivering as she reined in her shock. “No. My questions can wait. There is somebody best suited to discuss matters with you, Robin Icethorn. Please, follow me.”

This time Jesi didn’t need to take me by gripping my arm. I followed her willingly through the throngs of equally astonished fey towards the unknown destination.

“It makes sense now,” she muttered, looking sidelong at me as I caught up to her. “Our magic is not as potent as those from a royal bloodline. The Hand no doubt wants to be the one to see you in person. I cannot speak of what the Hand is like, but there is one person who will answer your questions with a clarity I cannot – someone who has sat with the Hand on a number of occasions.”

“Another like me?” I asked, tearing through the possibilities of people in my mind.

I could feel her desire to question me just as I wished to question her. It was evident in the way her mouth would open, pause and close again, as though she thought it would be best not to speak what was on her mind.

“She will not believe you are here, in more ways than you could imagine.”

We reached a narrow pathway of jagged rock with a low ceiling. Unlike the rest of the cavern, this place was covered in crystals that glowed in deep blues and gentle lilacs. Large, devouring stalactite formations seemed as though they dripped from the ceiling, solidifying into frozen points above us.

It was a wondrous place, for a prison at least. In any other circumstance, I might have stopped to ponder at the beauty of the place, admiring its natural design and formation. But time was not a luxury I possessed.

The narrow pathway ahead was empty of other fey. It darkened at a point, bathed in shadows as we moved further away from the light of the main cavern’s atrium and into this new chamber. Then the crystal formations began to glow, not reflecting light but creating it as a result of some incomprehensible natural magic. A glint of the bluish glow caught across iron bars. The first I’d seen since entering through the main gate of the cave. Before us, in a small chamber of stone that gave hardly enough room to navigate freely, was a cell. It seemed that the cave had slowly begun to devour the iron bars, swallowing them into their surface.

If it wasn’t for the crystals that gave off their subtle light, I wouldn’t have noticed the hunched figure who sat upon the dusty floor of the cell. It was a haunting vision. Bowed and bent, the back of the person was curved in as though the weight of their thin shoulders was far too much to bear.

“Has my time to bleed come again so soon?” the fey called, their words a symphony of light, dulcet and defeated tones. It was that of a woman’s voice but one that had roughened around the edges.

“No, my lady,” Jesi spoke up, voice cracking with nerves I couldn’t imagine she held usually. “Forgive my intrusion but there is someone I believe you’d like to meet.”

“Jesi, darling. Is that you?”

“Yes, my lady,” Jesi said, bowing her head.

There was a shuffling and the hunched figure pushed herself from the ground, bones clicking like crickets in summer fields. Stepping into the light, wobbling slightly on numb feet, the woman gripped the iron bars to steady herself.

She was beautiful, it was the first thing I could think of. Old enough that grey hairs mixed with her chestnut curls, but not so ancient that her skin was marked with lines and creases; it was smooth. Her skin was pale from lack of sunlight; I could imagine it once shone with warmth and vivacity, but now it looked drained and delicate to the touch.

I stepped closer to her, encouraged by a silent siren call as I drank in the woman behind the bars. The closer I got, the more a spark of familiarity burned within me. It was the eyes that gave away the truth eventually. At first, I thought the piercing blue was simply a reflection from the crystal lights; two pools of deep-ocean azure watched me as I closed in on her.

I saw another face as I blinked, one that spurred a fear within me.

The same wild, curly hair and stunning gaze. It was the face of Tarron Oakstorm, but that was impossible because he was dead.

My mind whispered to me the name of the person before me, the impossibility of it – but then again, after everything that had happened up until this point, nothing was truly impossible.

“Elinor?” I said, stepping closer to the bars, drawn forward like a moth to an open flame. “Elinor Oakstorm?”

She blinked – fluttered those bright-sky eyes and said, “Yes, and who might you be?”