Page 8 of A Game of Monsters

I’d learned that it was better not to speak of the dreams to Duncan. It would either upset him, or lure the demon out… that was if Duwar wasn’t already the one I was speaking to.

I stood from my chair, throwing myself into action instead of dwelling on the dream… nightmare.

“You need to eat something,” I said, sweeping my eyes over the cold bowl of oats I’d made last night. The full pitcher of water was beside it. “It will give you some energy and–”

“I’m not hungry,” Duncan interrupted.

“You say that every morning, and yet youstillneed to eat.”

Duncan didn’t refuse me again, not as I began our haunting routine. I shut my mind off from emotions and charged forwards with what I had to do. Spoon-feeding Duncan whilst his eyes never left me, lifting the cup to his lips to wash down the cold gruel. Sometimes he resisted, vomiting up the mouthfuls or fighting against me. But other times, like today, he let me do it until the bowl and pitcher were empty.

It was hard to know if he was in control because Duwar was weak, or if he was in control because Duwar wanted me tothinkhe was himself, just to control me in return.

I cleaned the corners of his mouth with a rag, my hand trembling.

“When will this end?” Duncan asked, voice hoarse like stone against stone. “How long will this punishment continue?”

“Soon,” I replied. “I hope.”

“I – I can’t hold on for much longer, Robin.” Tears filled his eyes, pleading cracking his tone. “Every day I try and every day I continue to fail.”

“You are doing your best.” My eyes flickered to his, unable to hold his intense gaze for longer than a few seconds. “I’m–”

“You’rekillingme.”

I shook my head, knuckles white as I clasped onto the rag. “No, Duncan. I’m trying to save you. I’m – I’m doing everything I can to save you.”

“You hate me, that is why? You want me to suffer.”

Panic flared in me, white hot. “I love you, Duncan.”

“Then why do you treat me like I’m your enemy?”

I refused to cry, refused to give the demon puppet-master exactly what it wanted. “Duwaris your enemy, not me.”

Tears loosed from Duncan’s yellow-stained eyes – of anger or sympathy, I couldn’t tell. “I hear Duwar… I see endless possibilities. You know, it shows me a beautiful world. It promises me what could be if only you–”

“Duwar lies,” I snapped. “It’s trying to trick you, weaken you. Duncan.” I choked on his name as emotion crawled up my throat. “You must continue to fight its influence. For me. Do it for me.”

Duncan closed his eyes, pinching them shut until his entire forehead creased with deep grooves. “I’m so tired, darling.”

So am I.

“Here, this will help for the time being.” I paced to the side of the bed, careful not to trip over the web of iron chains holding Duncan down. There were so many chains over him, screwed into the floorboards, entrapping him like a butterfly on a corkboard. The iron kept his fey-given magic muted, while the weight of the metal kept him from getting out of bed. Every couple of days I treated the sore spots the pressure created, but the more wounds I cared for, the more would show up.

But I couldn’t remove the chains. This was exactly the purpose I needed the iron for: imprisoning Duncan’s human body, rendering him powerless and weak. Keeping him safe…fromhimself.

My heart ached as it always did when I saw him in this state. It went against everything I wanted to do for Duncan. I loved him, so much that I couldn’t let him hurt himself, or anyone else.

I was keeping him safe from being hurt by the world outside this room, if they knew what had become of him.

“The Gardineum I’ve got is fresh this time. It will be easier for you to take it today, and slightly sweeter.”

“Please, Robin. No.” Duncan cried, rolling his head to the side of his worn pillow, as much as his bindings allowed. “No. No. Not… not today. I need a break. I need space for my mind to fucking work.”

I silently refused him, continuing my actions without pause as if I didn’t hear him.

If he wouldn’t drink the Gardineum, which today I knew he would fight against, then there was another option I could proceed with. Even though he refused the drug most days, no matter how I stewed it into tea and tried to make it pleasant to take, I still knew it always ended with me injecting it straight into his bloodstream.

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