Page 32 of A Game of Monsters

“You’re right,” Erix said finally, offering me a smile. “Finstock holds far too many bad memories. It is easy to treat it with suspicion, after everything that happened here.”

“Exactly.”

It was on the tip of my tongue, to again ask Erix to follow the wagons and find out what they carried. But if we were wrong, and they were simply humans travelling to a wedding that was meant to bring together the human and fey, investigating them would only cause the rift between our kinds to linger further apart.

Against my better judgement, we left Finstock and flew in the direction of the human capital. That didn’t stop me from searching the darkening landscape for a line of wagons again. Eventually, we saw them, but it seemed they’d separated from their long-lined convoy. I didn’t know if that should’ve relaxed me or made me worry more.

As night slipped over Durmain, swallowing the view beyond in obsidian, my worries shifted back to Duncan. In a matter of hours, he’d wake from the Gardineum-induced coma.

How would he react when he discovered I was no longer there? Perhaps he already knew.

Seeing the broken mirror in Finstock focused my goals and reminded me of what I needed to do in Lockinge. So, when the city came into view, glowing against the dark from thousands of homes lit from inside, I felt a surge of relief.

Relief that didn’t last long.

CHAPTER 7

I would never admit it out loud, but it was unsettling seeing how much Lockinge had changed since I’d last been here. Compared to the slow progression in Icethorn – with towns and villages once abandoned now rebuilding as part of a community – Lockinge looked like a city I’d never visited before. It was as if the explosions – atrocities I had caused when we blew up all of the Asp’s hideouts – had never happened here. Any sign of ruin had been covered up with golden-trimmed banners with the symbol for the Creator stitched into the material.

Everywhere I could see, there was more evidence of who ruled here now.

The Nephilim, guided by the unseen hand of the Creator.

We landed in the heart of the Cage – the outer slums of the city. It wasn’t by choice that we stopped here. The moment we flew close to Lockinge city, the Nephilim were aware. A horde of the angelic warriors accosted us mid-air, armed and poised to protecttheircity.

The welcome wasn’t what I expected. Not at the end of a golden blade, with the distrusting glare of a winged warrior before us. Even if the blade was only lifted for a moment before they realised who I was, the unsettling feeling in my gut hadn’t wavered.

“King Icethorn,” a nondescript Nephilim said in welcome, bowing slightly to show respect, lowering his weapon. “We were expecting your arrival earlier than this.”

“Do you greet all guests with drawn weapons?” I asked, nervous at how quick they’d come out, and how quick they were put away. “Or is it special treatment for me?”

“My apologies.” The winged warrior swapped his weapon for an outstretched hand. “My name is Zarrel, and Cassial tasked me to be on guard waiting for you.”

I took his hand, not wanting to continue this greeting on the wrong foot. “Thank you for your patience, Zarrel.”

Erix scoffed from my side, wings bristling. In comparison to the angelic beings that stood before us, he looked much like the monster they’d last known him to be. The monster I had told him he wasn’t. But my perspective was certainly different to the angel before me.

“As you can imagine,” Zarrel said, shooting a nervous glance in Erix’s direction, “the humans dwelling in this city were not long ago terrorised by gryvern. When we received reports of one flying into our skies, it made us… nervous.”

“I can confirm that Erix is no threat,” I said, unable to hide the irritation in my tone.

Zarrel looked again to Erix. If I wanted to believe their slip up was a result of not knowing Erix had been the one to fly me here, the glint in his azure eyes suggested otherwise.

“What matters is you are here now, and all is well,” Zarrel said. “I’ve been given strict instructions to bring you to the castle where you can rest. As the letter from Eroan suggested to expect your arrival earlier today, any meetings planned have been postponed until tomorrow. Our Saviour Cassial was displeased to hear of your… late arrival, as he was excited to finally host you.”

There was no ignoring the bit of disdain in the man’s tone. How could I blame him?

I’d helped orchestrate the destruction of the very things they’d vowed to protect.

The keys to Duwar’s realm, and thus the only way of keeping him locked away.

“Saviour?” I repeated, not caring for anything else he’d just said. “Interesting. I last remember Cassial being known by another title.”

I side-eyed Erix, who looked like he was ready for a brawl. When his lips parted, it was to confirm my statement. “The Creator’s Shield, was it not?”

Zarrel flexed impressive wings, downy feathers falling to the ground like snow. “Much has changed in the months past, as I am sure you are well aware. As you can see around you, Cassial has headed a major improvement to Lockinge and those dwelling around it. Dealing with the… damage left behind from your last visit to Lockinge,” the Nephilim replied. “If memory serves me correctly.”

Was this why they greeted us with weapons drawn? Because I’d been the heart of why so many buildings in the Cage burned to a crisp, and not that Erix had flown us here?

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