A Kingdom of Lies (Realm of Fey #2)

BONUS CHAPTER

They’d hung me by my wrists, each taking turns to carve lines into my flesh.

With every nick of a blade, I thought of Robin. I pictured him in full colour, resting upon the earth, curled on his side as he waited for my return. If I focused hard enough, I could feel the brush of his midnight hair tickling my chest, his light fingers resting upon my navel.

I was unable to smell the blood that covered me, despite its sheer amount. My nose was filled with Robin’s scent of juniper berry, fresh breeze and crisp winter. Instead of hearing the wet shuck of iron to flesh, I imagined Robin calling for me, shouting my name, demanding to know where I had gone.

Every one of my senses was captured by him, saving me what likely were my last moments.

If only I could tell him what waited for him here. If only I could ensure he would not come looking for me. But I knew, deep down, that this hope was futile.

He would come, because he was Robin: stubborn, determined, focused and, more than anything, selfless. And although my brothers and sisters – the Hunters who’d punished me over and over for the past how ever many hours – didn’t know Robin like I did, they also knew he’d come for me eventually.

And so we waited. By waited, I mean I could do nothing but endure the retribution of my greatest sin. Loving a fey. I had no choice, as the cuffs dug into the skin of my wrists and the bruises formed beneath my eyes and across my torso, painting my body in a patchwork of blue, black and green. If they weren’t cutting my sins into my skin, they were hammering them in with fists to my face and gut.

These Hunters had found me en route to the makeshift town just outside of Lockinge. It was once a small toll passing, but in recent years it had become a hub of activity for Hunters. Now it was known as a place of exchange where the fey were brought, prepared and carted into the city.

My original plan was simple, but like all plans, it had not been without its risks. Come here, retrieve an iron-cuff undercover and then return to Robin. Of course, I had been worried about it, but it was our only option. Or so I thought, because my concerns intensified when Hunters rode out to meet me, all hopes of success fading as those I once called my brothers drew their swords and pointed them at me.

It was not the welcome I’d expected. They’d arrested me before I could even state my name. Not that it was required, they knew who I was.

They called me a traitor. Fey-fucker. Obviously, word from what happened in Ayvbury had reached the Hand’s followers: a Hunter and an unchained fey working together. How we’d been hidden within Abbott Nathaniel’s church – alone. Surviving together. Escaping together. That was all they needed to know. In their eyes, I was guilty. If I was given the choice to speak my piece, maybe I would’ve lied and told them they were wrong. My silence was incriminating, I knew that. But I found keeping silent was easier than opening my mouth; I didn’t want to risk saying something that would jeopardise Robin.

They believed the pain they imposed on me would make me speak, but they were wrong. Pain was my only constant, my only comfort and I relished in it. If anything, the more they cut my skin, the more they smashed batons into me and cracked fists into my gut or face, the more I retreated into my silence.

Then they sent someone into this dark room I was imprisoned in, someone who could cause me more agony than any weapon could.

“ He will be found eventually, Duncan.”

I could barely lift my head up to see who spoke, not that I needed to. The man’s voice was as easy to recognise as my own was.

“Brother,” I mumbled, wondering if it was blood or vomit that crusted the side of my mouth, almost forging my lips together. “Good to see you, finally. I was wondering when you’d be brave enough to show your face.”

I fought against my weakness enough to lift my gaze. Kayne stood at the precipice to the dank room, staring at me like I was some sort of monster. His taut frame was haloed by daylight. It surprised me to see the light because I’d convinced myself days had passed, but perhaps it had only been hours of this torment. Either way, it was never-ending.

“Are you… waiting for an invitation?” I slurred. “Or did you come to marvel at your fellow Hunter’s handiwork?”

“You speak on our kind as if you are no longer one of them.” Kayne finally stepped inside and drew the door closed behind him, sealing us away from the nasty world beyond.

“What would it matter what I think, when my opinion will not save me?”

Kayne scoffed, his skin slightly pale as though he’d be sick without a moment’s notice. “You should answer their questions, if you know what’s good for you.”

“I know what’s good for me, brother. That’s why I keep my mouth shut.”

“Because that fey has enthralled you, Duncan.” Kayne braved another step, coming closer, nose wrinkling against the smell of my blood, sick and shit. “I can’t bear to see you like this.”

“Then do something about it.”

Kayne dropped his head, but his eyes never left mine. “I can’t until you talk.”

There was no point lying to him. I hadn’t before, and I wasn’t going to start now. “I’m under no thrall, Kayne.”

We used each other’s name like a weapon, waiting to see whose cut deeper.

“So all these whispers of you laying with a fey, working with one, fighting beside one are nothing but made-up stories? Because trust me, I’m holding out the hope that this is all some grand misunderstanding.”

The chains above my head rattled as I tried to reposition myself. Kayne winced as he noticed the deep gashes around my wrists, hesitating as though he wanted to run to me, coddle me in his arms and save me from this torture.

I found it easy to ignore him. He wanted a certain answer, and it wasn’t one I was going to give. Instead, I took the conversation and changed it. “Are you here to help me, because if not, there is a table of pointy weapons over there and I’ve got a few areas of skin that are still unmarked. Come, bleed me for Duwar, if that makes you feel better.”

Kayne’s exhale whooshed through the room, heavy as his sagging shoulders and unwavering attention. “I don’t want to hurt you, Duncan. In fact, I want to help you.”

A deranged laugh escaped my ruined lips. “How so?”

Kayne looked behind me as if someone was watching. We were alone, or so I thought. Just his stray glance told me that others waited outside, ready to catch my admission of guilt, desperate to hear where Robin was hiding so they could find him.

Betrayal carved through me, cutting deeper than any blade could ever.

“Where is he, Duncan?” Kayne asked, his monotone voice making the hairs on my bare body stand. “Where is the Icethorn king?”

I let my chin fall back to my chest. My eyes closed, blocking out the truth laid out before me. Kayne, once my brother, my closest friend, had come in here to use my devotion to Robin against me and sell me out.

Feet shuffled across the straw-coated floor. Boots squelched in blood and mud, every sound heightened as Kayne closed in.

“Please, all I want to do is get you out of this mess. But I can’t do that if you don’t cooperate.” A cold hand pressed upon my shoulder, soft as a bird. And yet the fact it was Kayne touching me made his hand feel more like talons, ready to sink into my flesh.

If I could have pulled away, I would have. But the chains kept me in place, and my body no longer belonged to me, but to the pain I had endured for the past hours.

“Keep your hands off me,” I growled, snapping my teeth in his direction.

Kayne stumbled back, shocked. That shock quickly hardened into resolve and focus, the mask of a Hunter who was trained to deal with anyone or anything that stood before them.

“Every Tracker has sent their birds out to search Durmain for him. Sooner or later, Robin will be located, and he will face the judgement that the Hand has requested.”

That had me opening my eyes. “Punishment?”

“Isn’t that what every fey has experienced in the Below? Or did you think it would be different? That you could petition for the Hand to let this one go free? That isn’t how this works, and you know it. Whatever has gotten into you is foolish and stupid. You – Duncan – you’re not the same person that left Finstock. What happened?”

“Robin,” I hissed, his name so sweet in my mouth. “ He happened.”

“Finally, the truth.” Kayne traced his sad, haunted eyes up and down my body, teeth gnawing at his lower lip. “Although I could already see the effect he has had on you. To be honest, I don’t even know who I’m looking at anymore.”

“A feeling we both share, brother .”

We found ourselves in a stare-off, both of us refusing to look away first. But it was Kayne who broke. He turned on his heel and made for the door. “If this changes anything for you, maybe you’d like to know that the Hunters we’ve sent out to look for him have been found mutilated beyond recognition. Even some of the hawks have been found with their wings ripped from their bodies, necks torn apart by what we believe is teeth. Sharp teeth. Whether that is Robin, or someone else – we believe it the missing Hunters, the deaths are tied to him.”

Bodies? Mutilation? Those two words together made me laugh again.

“Is that really funny, Duncan?” Kayne sneered. “Finding joy in the demise of those you once led, the brave men and woman that fight for the balance of this world?”

“Robin is many things, but he wouldn’t do that.” It wasn’t his style.

“Then someone else is looking out for him in your absence.”

The blood – the little my body had left – drained from my face, casting me in a bout of cold shivers. “You’re baiting me.”

“I’m simply keeping you up to date. Maybe I’m wrong, and whatever is out there attacking our Hunters will eventually find Robin before we do. What outcome is better? A life alongside his own people, giving up blood to better their world. Or a life where he dies, at the hands of a monster in pursuit, someone you will be helpless to save him from.”

It couldn’t be. Could it? Erix had died – Robin had made sure of that. Maybe it was King Doran Oakstorm’s gryvern, but then again, the entire camp would’ve known about them if that were the case.

Either way, Kayne was trying to make me talk and now – for the first time – I almost gave the answers that he and those listening outside the room wanted.

Before the words could rupture from my soul, I sunk my teeth into my torn lips until the copper tang of my blood washed away the last scrap of Robin’s sweet taste. Kayne watched, refusing to blink as I caused myself pain. Then the door behind him opened, and three, four, maybe five Hunters rushed in. Kayne slipped out. But wherever he’d gotten to, I’d make sure he couldn’t run from the suffering of seeing me in pain.

It was one thing witnessing it, but hearing it was another.

So, as the blades began to cut back into my skin, as if they could draw Robin’s location out with my blood, I bellowed. I didn’t keep quiet. I screamed, not from agony, but from desperation. I did so until my lungs were empty and my head light. I didn’t stop, not until fresh blood cooled my boiling skin and wet the knives held in the Hunter’s hands.

If I could’ve held onto my strength and continued, I would have. But quickly, the creeping darkness of peace danced at the corners of my eyes. One by one, my senses failed me until my eyes drew heavy and I stopped refusing them.

Somehow, I knew that when I closed my eyes and gave into the darkness, I’d see Robin again. And I was almost right. Because it was when I opened my eyes again, no longer in the punishment room but outside beneath the glare of daylight, that I saw him.

My Robin had come to find me, alive. But he was walking into the mouth of a monster. And there was nothing – nothing – I could do to save him.