CHAPTER 8

I saw little of the castle as Gyah led us, on quick feet, through long, endless corridors and up so many stairs it should've been a crime. The muscles in my already tired legs burned with each step. Whereas Gyah and Erix breathed with ease, I huffed and coughed, my body rejecting this level of exercise.

I wasn't exactly a stranger to hard labour. I'd spent the last three years working alongside Father at the tavern on nights when it was so busy people opted to stand rather than sit. My body was lean, with subtle lumps across my stomach that whispered the possibility of muscle.

Perhaps my inability to catch my breath and hold my composure was the human half of me coming through. In fact, I'd never felt so human. So very, obviously different from those who seemed to glide around me with grace, heads held high and broad statures carved from hands of the fey god, Altar.

I usually felt taller around other humans, even Father stood several inches beneath me. But with Erix, Gyah and the many shadows of female warriors who separated from walls to join our journey, I felt small.

By the time we reached the closed door, which Gyah had announced as my chambers, there were countless stern faces around us. They lined the walls beyond the door, silent guards who showed no emotion, so tranquil that they could've been mistaken for statues of stone instead of flesh and blood. Each fey warrior was covered in weapons strapped around strong waists, across shoulders and dangling by sides. I could only imagine the number of blades hidden on their bodies, but I didn't dare stare long enough to investigate.

It was Gyah who instructed me to enter, promising a freshly filled bath and to return with food and drink shortly. My stomach grumbled at the thought. The water and apple Erix had given me had barely touched the sides.

Erix hadn't said a word, mainly taking orders from Gyah, who instructed him with short commands. He simply nodded, joining the many fey to stand guard beyond the door. I watched him leave, almost calling out to stop him.

Alas, I bite my tongue and focused on Gyah.

"The room is yours to rest within." Gyah's voice was rough when she spoke, deep and full of authority that made Erix seem like an unsure boy in comparison. "If you require anything before Althea's return, then please ask."

I forced a smile, holding back the urge to look for Erix a final time as Gyah slipped through the door and closed me inside.

Then there was a click and then the turn of a key from the other side. I didn't need to reach for the brass knob to know I'd been locked in. A knife of discomfort sliced down from the base of my skull to the bottom of my spine; in a single moment, I'd gone from feeling like a guest to a prisoner.

The chamber was enormous, undeniably the most comfortable of prison cells in both Wychwood or Durmain. There were the living quarters which I'd first entered, with dark oak furniture, plush chairs and an unnecessarily large number of gilded mirrors hanging from the cream papered walls. Three alternative doorways waited on the far walls of the room, each leading to yet another incredibly decorated room.

I felt ridiculous being here, standing with dirtied feet in the ripped nightclothes. A light breeze lingered in through an open window, and I suddenly noticed just how terrible they smelt. The room had a scent of vanilla and something fresh, like a field just after a downpour of rain. Raising an arm, I sniffed the odour that seeped from me and fought back a cough.

My first instinct was that Erix must've noticed. Forcing him from my mind again , I decided that washing was my most pressing priority.

Moving through glass double doors at the back of the living quarters, I entered a bedroom which was equal in size. I kept my hands to myself; I didn't want to dirty the elegant, shifting curtains of lace that draped from each of the four posts of the large bed, with a mattress big enough to fit a number of bodies and still have room to stretch.

Entire walls, if not taken up with ornate windows, were lined with wardrobes that reached far up into the high ceilings. A small ladder was connected to the nearest wardrobe to me, with wooden wheels at the base. I gave it a push, and it slid soundlessly across the many wardrobes.

I found the bathing chamber with little effort. Steam flowed beyond an open door, beckoning me to enter with fingers of curling mist. There wasn't a moment wasted as I unclothed and walked across the bedroom towards the doorway. By the time I entered, there was only the cold dusting of air across my bare body.

I slipped into the warmth of the brass tub that was, as promised, filled with water. Time wasn't a concept I could grasp as I let the warmth wash away the day's events. The cage, the deaths I'd witnessed, all of it. I thought of Father and our home, which conjured an ache in my chest, a longing that flirted with the closed box deep within me, tickling a finger of consciousness across the lid as a reminder that it could open if I wished for it to.

The angry marks across my wrists were so faint now that they were almost impossible to see. But they had been there, and my skin had healed far quicker than I'd ever experienced before.

The comments Althea had made about Mother's bracelet and the effects of iron trickled into my mind. Had that suppressed far more of me than I could understand? Even in the familiar, comforting cuddle of water, I knew that it was Althea who'd answer that question when she returned.

After what could've been hours, I climbed out of the brass tub, the water cold and discoloured. Wrapped in a towel as soft as snow, I trailed wet footprints into the bedchamber, in search for new clothes.

But with each step, my mind clawed at the thought of my mother, making my stomach jolt with anxiety.

That possibility of seeing her was all that kept me stable. She'd have answers for me, I knew she would. A path, or guidance, wasn't that what mothers offered? Again, I wouldn't know – never had one.

Twenty-four years old, and I relied on a mother I didn't even remember.

I found clothes hanging within one of the many wardrobes. Not caring what I wore, I pulled on a pair of dark brown trousers and a fitted, long-sleeved green shirt that had swirling gold thread across the shoulders. Turning before the mirror, I noticed how the design flowed down the back of the shirt like wings across the material, wings the shape of fallen autumn leaves outlined in gold, much like the design across Erix's cloak when I'd first seen him.

"And I was beginning to think you had drowned," a familiar voice sounded from the living quarters beyond the bedroom. "A few more minutes and I would come to check."

I followed the soft voice to find Althea, who sat with her feet up, resting across the low table before her. Her back was towards me, but her face turned slightly that I caught the lift of her sharp lips, which tugged into a smile.

"I didn't hear you come in," I said, fists relaxing slightly but not before she had noticed. "Is knocking not a custom in Wychwood?"

"Hold on, whose home are you in? Oh yes, mine." She spied my balled fists, and chuckled. "What good will they do?"

"Not that I have anything to prove, but they can do some harm." My arms snapped to my sides, and I tried to relax my posture. Althea turned back to whatever she focused on before her, which I soon saw was a pastry of some kind that she picked apart, pieces flaking across her lap.

"I'm at least pleased to see you have some fight in you. Here." She took her heels from the table and sat forward, gesturing to a plate piled high with similar pastries and cakes that she devoured. "You should eat something. An expenditure of power can have a draining effect on a fey, and the food will help. So will the sugar."

I got the impression, from her erudite tone, that she knew I needed insight into the fey. It was unspoken between us, only adding to how different I felt. How human I was in comparison. Althea was right, though, I was hungry. And I didn't realise just how much until the scent of warmed, sweet cake enticed me to pick one from the plate. Taking a seat in a plush chair opposite her, I began stuffing my cheeks with food. An explosion of sweetness filled me with a hint of stewed apples as I soon found the pale, green filling in the middle of the bun.

"The cooks will love you," Althea chortled, picking at the honey-dipped bun in her hand.

"Mmhm," I mumbled through full cheeks.

Althea studied me now, hardly bothering with her own pastry that she toyed with on her lap. Then she shook her head as though she broke herself out of a trance. "Sorry, I should not stare so much. I just can hardly believe that I am actually sitting here with you."

I smiled, swallowing the lump of pastry audibly. "The feeling is mutual. I don't know much about Wychwood, if I'm honest. Or what is going on. Although these certainly sweeten the situation, you can imagine I still have many questions."

"That much is clear, Robin." A shadow of concern passed behind her stare for a moment before dissipating as though I had imagined it. "I thought you'd want to know that your father has been granted an invitation by the court. It's far from custom, but a convoy has already been sent for him. I expect him to arrive by the morning, if he accepts, of course."

A ringing filled my ears. I leaned forward, heart thumping at the back of my throat, so intense that my thanks almost didn't come out. "Thank you."

"You do not understand what your return means to… us." Althea's stare widened, and her jaw tensed. She was both parts beautiful and dangerous. Even her lips were sharp like a blade, and her stare full of untold threats. But I didn't sense her desire to hurt me, in fact, it was the opposite.

"Is that why there are untold guards outside my door?"

Her brow pitched upwards. "It is."

"And the locked door?"

Her eyes narrowed on me. "That was just a precaution. As much as you're a guest, the idea of your trapsing around the castle isn't exactly one that makes me feel comfortable."

"Am I in danger?" I asked, finding that it was the most important question to follow her comments."

Althea rocked back, returned her focus on the honey-coated bun and replied. "Now, that would depend."

Depend on what? Did I even want to know the answer to that?

"And if I ask why I mean a lot to you, would you tell me?"

Althea paused before replying, looking away as she contemplated her response. "What do you know of the Icethorn Court?"

"Is it a trait of your kind to answer a question with a question?"

"You tell me… Robin." Althea shot me a look. "You're one of us, after all."

I sighed, pulling at the pathetic threads of knowledge I held of the fey and their kind from the depths of my memory. "Icethorn is the fey court of winter. And, from reading between the lines, you believe it's where my mother comes from?"

There it was again, the concern in her stare, but this time joined with sadness; it was identical to the emotions that I'd seen from Gyah and Erix, so palpable that it tugged down her lips at the corners and furrowed her brow until lines cut across her freckled forehead.

"I do believe your lineage is that of the Icethorn Court." Althea's voice was thick and quiet as though she feared the very walls listened in. "But your mother is far more than from the court. She was the–"

The chamber door opened with a bang, interrupting Althea. Before I could see who'd arrived, Althea had unsheathed twin axes, holding them steady at her sides. The honey bun was squashed beneath her foot.

"We've got some trouble heading our way," Erix said, practically growling. Seeing him in such a state of worry made the panic inside me build. He'd seemed like such a controlled person, but I was beginning to think otherwise.

"What trouble?" she questioned Erix, who filled the doorway with his broad frame. His silver eyes met mine, and even behind his helmet, I could sense his alarm; it darkened his eyes, turning them into a storm of grey skies.

"Gryvern," Erix answered, his voice as sharp as the sword he pulled free from its sheath. The metal sang as he held it before him with two hands.

"How many?" Althea ran to the window that overlooked Aurelia, leaving me like a fool to sit numb in the chair.

"Unsure." Erix closed the door, not before I noticed the hallway beyond was empty of armoured guards. Where had they gone? There was no time to answer as Erix booted the door closed.

"That is not helpful, Erix, give me a number."

"A handful, potentially more to follow."

"What's going on?" I asked, standing up, tense and highly aware that I was without a weapon. Once again my fists balled, but they really did feel pathetic in the face of the tension around me.

Althea ignored me, instead barking an order at Erix. "Get him into the back rooms and barricade the door. Do not open it, or assist, unless I request it. Am I clear?"

"Very." Erix nodded, moving towards me.

I took steps back, my voice hardening with demand as I asked again, "Someone tell me what is going on. Now."

An inhumane screech sounded from beyond the window, spurring a hiss from Althea as she fumbled back. "Shit. Shit. Shit ."

Erix reached for me with his gloved hands, but I pulled away. Using the chair as a barrier, I danced around it, enough to sidestep him and run for the window. Althea didn't bother to reprimand me for joining her, and I could see why.

Her attention was forged on the monsters filling the sky.

Large humanoid figures flew through the air outside the manor. I counted three with wings so wide that they caused shadows to pass over the ground far below.

The streets were full of chaos as people ran for shelter. Their cries of terror itched at my skin, muffled only slightly by the thick pane of glass separating us from the creatures that filled the skies.

Erix had called them gryvern, a name I wasn't familiar with. As they drew closer, I saw they were made up of melted-grey flesh, blotches of red and yellow as though their skin dripped from their bodies. Their wings were leather and hairless but equally as pale as the rest of them. Horns protruded from their deformed skulls. Then I focused on their faces, and my heart slowed. Dark, empty sockets hollowed their visages – where eyes should've been, were instead pits of shadow that seemed to never end. Mouths split from round ear to round ear, flashing rows of stained, pointed teeth.

Their strangled screams would haunt me for an eternity.

"Room!" Althea shouted at me as though she'd only just realised I stood beside her. "Now!"

This time I didn't refuse. Erix was behind me, wrapping a large arm around my shoulder as he guided me away. The box in my chest creaked open, bringing forth a rush of cold, icy wind. The power trembled from my skin, sending the lace curtains around the bed to shift violently.

"What are those things?" I asked, voice cracking. I wasn't one for running and hiding, but I also had never been faced with creatures like those beyond the castle.

"Unnatural demons, conjured from the lust for fey flesh and bone," Erix said, his voice without fear. There was something shielding about the way he put himself between me and the door.

The screeching beyond the manor stopped abruptly, and for several moments there was nothing but silence.

I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to still the whirling of pressure within it.

"I'm beginning to think that I would've been safer back at the Hunter's camp," I blurted out, wincing as my ribs ached and lungs burned as each intake of breath was ice cold. I then thought of Father and what he'd be exposed to if he accepted the fey's invitation. For the first time, I felt a creeping slither of dread at the idea of him passing the Wychwood border.

"Those creatures – the gryvern have not been seen in almost a decade." Erix lifted the sword before him, the tip inches from the closed door to the living quarters.

"Why now then?" I listened out, trying to stretch my hearing to catch if the creatures still filled the skies or if they had retreated.

Erix peered over his shoulder, gaze dark and lips pursed white. "Because your return has already reached the ears of those who see you as a threat. They are here for you, Robin."

Dread pooled like a pit of ruin at the base of my spine.

Before I could respond, the shattering of glass exploded from the living quarters, and the high pitched, scratching screech sounded the arrival of the monsters.

Monsters who'd come for me.