Page 94 of A Kingdom of Lies

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.

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