Page 92 of A Kingdom of Lies

I didn’t stop again; the urgency of seeing what waited at our destination fuelled me onwards. I’d come all this way to see the Below. Knowing I was close renewed my sense of confidence. But what I saw, as the pathway opened up to a balcony of rock that overlooked the scene in the open cave chamber, was nothing that I could’ve ever imagined.

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?”

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