Page 74 of A Kingdom of Lies

Duncan no longer seemed uncomfortable being here. In such a short time, something had changed within him. His patience no longer waned, as if he’d finally found the skill and clung to it. Even now he was captured in quiet conversation with Nathanial, helping the man as they discussed memories of his childhood. The tension that’d been strung out between them no longer lingered, cut clean by time and old wounds healed.

“Strange happenings indeed,” Nathanial chortled back to something Duncan said, patting him upon the shoulder as he passed with tomes piled in his hands. “One will have to send word for soldiers to find the thief of all that wine!”

“It could be the mice,” Duncan replied. “Thirsty little beasts. And I hear they’ve a liking for old, over-stewed wine. A cat would be more effective than a soldier for that matter.”

“Hmm. Mice you say? How odd. Those same mice must have been alongside you all those years ago, and have seemed to return to my door the very same day you did. Do you play the pipe, Duncan Rackley? For they follow you, I am sure of it.”

My cheeks warmed as Duncan winked across the pews at me. “What a mystery. I do hope you get to the bottom of it. Thieves or mice, the disappearing wine is a serious matter. Before long you will be without bottles.”

All it would take was for Nathanial to saunter up into the attic to see the pile of green, brown and deep maroon empty bottles. But he didn’t need to see them to know that we took them. Nor did he mind. It even seemed the old man enjoyed the banter, or perhaps it was just the smile across Duncan’s lips that made the Abbot content.

“What do you say about the matter, Robin? Your silence is deafening.”

I looked up, my own hands full of loose, torn scrolls that outlined the morning’s service. “If it’s mice, I’m sure they’re more than thankful. Nothing warms a belly better than wine.”

Nathanial looked between Duncan and me, smile beaming. “Then we shall let them enjoy themselves until their tastes move on to stronger spirits, or better places.”

That was Nathanial’s way of saying that he knew we’d leave sooner rather than later. I hoped it was the latter.

The abbot slipped into the back room of the church, clinking among stacks of books and cases of disappearing wine, his chortle still audible as he went about his business.

Duncan prowled over to me, arms straining against the dark leather jacket the abbot had obtained from the market the day prior. “You know, if you feel tired, I can tell the old man to finish the task alone. There’s a bed waiting for you upstairs which I am certain requires warming.”

I rolled my eyes, fighting the grin by looking to the books in my hands. “I would be careful of how loud your mind is, Duncan. I wouldn’t want the Creator punishing you for the dark thoughts you harbour.”

“My thoughts won’t be the reason he smites me down.” Duncan leaned down, pressing a kiss to my cheek that lingered for a moment longer than it should have. As he pulled back, he whispered, breath tickling my ear. “Are you going to make me wait? We could do it here. Quickly, before Nathanial hobbles back out.”

I thumped the books into his arms, driving the wind from him. “You’re a demon, Duncan. Have you ever been told that?”

“Many times,” he replied, face twisted in both a scowl and a grin.

A shadow passed over Duncan’s face. He looked up, focusing upon the large, stained-glass window behind me.

“That’s one big bird,” he said, brows furrowed. “Did you see it?”

I hadn’t, until it happened again. Another shadow, fast and large, cutting through the sky beyond the church.

Then another, and another.

That’s when the screaming began, high-pitched cries that clawed at my skin. I blinked, flashes of sharp teeth and blood-stained talons filling my mind.

“Duncan!” Abbot Nathanial shouted, bursting through the doors back into the room. “Get to the basement, we’re under attack.”

Books clattered to the ground, spreading across the tiles in a pile of broken spines and bent pages. Duncan had dropped them, hand instinctively reaching for a sword that did not wait at his hip.

“No,” Duncan said. “I want both of you to stay here and wait for me. Don’t leave until I come back.”

I didn’t need Duncan to investigate or want him to leave me. I knew these clawing screams as well as I knew my own name. My hand shot out, gripping Duncan by the jacket with a fistful of leather.

“Gryvern,” I said, breathless from horror.

Confusion deepened the scar down Duncan’s face as he grimaced. But it lasted only a moment. “Doran’s sent them for you.”

I swallowed, magic curling in my stomach. “It’s the likely answer.”

I’d told him the story of my parents’ death during one of our long nights. How Doran had plotted to end the line of the Icethorn Court to encourage war against the humans for the abduction of his wife and child, using twisted creatures to slay them and putting the blame on the humans.

Duncan had explained in all his years within the ranks of Hunters he’d never heard of nor seen a gryvern before. It just went to show how easily the fey were manipulated with false propaganda.

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