Page 91 of A Kingdom of Lies

My skin shivered as they spoke again, not a syllable or word out of sync.

“I wish to speak with the Hand,” I said, hands grabbing the chain and adding resistance. “I need to see him urgently.”

“And you shall,” they replied together. “The Resurgence is shortly upon us. The Hand will see you soon. But first, there is much to prepare for tonight’s festivities. Until then, you are in no fit state to be speaking with him.”

Resurgence? There was something of importance behind the word; it caused the Hunters close to us to react with a childish excitement.

“I don’t understand,” I replied, neck aching from being pulled along. Desperation burned within me, in the same place my power would have been if the iron was not wrapped around my neck.

“In time you will. Weallwill.”

Something was terribly wrong with the fey who escorted me into the castle’s door, that much was clear. There was hardly time to make sense of what was happening as they finally tugged me into the cold, barren corridor of Lockinge castle. As we left the muted light of day behind us and entered the shadows of the castle’s innards, I was certain I’d spotted something on the fey’s arms. A dark mark, right in the exposed crook where their forearms met their elbows. Like their necks, it was covered in bruising, a perfect circle around a small puncture wound that was so fresh it had hardly scabbed over.

Before I could catch a glimpse again, we were in complete darkness. There was nothing but my heavy breathing and rushed footsteps that echoed around the strange walkway. The floor dropped out into steps, and we began our steep and terrifying descent bathed in shadows.

I felt as though we walked into the deepest pits of the underworld. And I knew where we were going the moment we descended beneath Lockinge castle. The fey were taking me to the Below.

The stairs we navigated were endless. For a long while, I had no sense of direction as they guided me through the dark, except that we went only downwards. But soon enough the narrow, steep corridor glowed with burning torches held in metal frames across the damp walls.

I felt as though I held my breath, unsure what to expect when the Below was finally revealed to me.

One of the fey women plucked a torch free then waved it before her as we trudged on. Whereas the other held a firm grip on my chain as though her life truly depended on it.

I wanted to ask after Duncan, to demand to be told where he was and what was happening to him. All I could think about was his slashed and bloodied body. Did he bleed now? Had he given in to the pain his fellow Hunters caused him? I should never have let him leave. If I’d refused him then perhaps his skin would have been unmarked by new scars.

Kayne was right, he’d suffered enough before. Then I came along and ruined him.

I focused on my surroundings for a reprieve from my mind. There was nothing I could do for Duncan, no matter how that fact pained me. I only hoped time was in my favour.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. I needed to hear it from them myself. The walls around me had gone from smooth layered brick to rough edges of rock; moss covered most. Dark splashes of water wet the carved steps beneath our feet, making each step risky, the threat of falling inevitable.

All I knew was that we had entered the castle, but wherever we walked now was far from it.

Farbeneathit.

“It is not permitted for the fey to walk freely above ground. Too many risks. The Hand’s influence is strong, but not infinite. Not yet.”

They spoke about themselves as though they did not have points at the ends of their ears.

“I asked you a question,” I spat. “Answer it.”

The fey shot each other a look that spoke of a silent conversation. Then one of them answered, already confirming my suspicions. “The Below. It is a place in which the Fey can be kept safe.”

“A prison.” I pulled back, gripping the damp wall for security.

They didn’t tell me I was wrong – there was no point in lying this far beneath the ground.

“But the Hand allows you both to move freely,” I said, voice echoing over rough stone walls. “What grants you such special treatment?”

“We have our reasonings,” one of them said.

“Our purpose, in his eyes,” the other added.

My skin itched as though fire crawled across it, the discomfort caused by the synchronisation both women spoke with. This was all wrong. The Hand petitioned for the death of fey. I had seen it with my very eyes. But that was only for those fey without magic. The Hand needed those with power in their veins, and I knew it had everything to do with the human who displayed magic in Farrador.

“This is where he keeps them all then,” I said, feeling the realisation overcome me. “The fey with power, magic in their blood. That is what he needs, isn’t it? Keeping them like livestock for whatever he needs to create his powered humans.”

“Come, you will see. Everything you have come to know about the Hand may not be true. A short walk to go and your questions will be answered. You will hear them from the Hand himself.”

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