CHAPTER 11

I stared out the circular porthole, marvelling at the blue sky. There was no longer even the wisp of dark cloud. The sun beat proudly upon the ocean, making its surface glisten like diamonds. The gentle lull of water against the boat and the quietness of the deck beyond the room only added to the atmosphere of serenity. If I closed my eyes and placed my hands across my ears, then I might’ve even tricked myself – convinced myself that I wasn’t in this cabin, listening to the Nephilim as they turned everything we knew on its head with a single sentence.

“Aldrick has discovered a key,” Rafaela said, confirming what I’d already worked out. A worried scowl set into her face as she rested her weight against the hammer. “We hoped Aldrick searched blindly for them, but it would seem he has obtained access to information that shouldn’t belong to him. Information that left these realms when we departed.”

“And you are certain his discovery caused the phenomenon?” Althea asked, sitting straight-backed in her chair. Her entire posture was rigid and stiff, whereas I felt the urge to give myself to the exhaustion and crumple in on myself.

“What happened was only a warning. A sign that the bindings keeping the Defiler trapped have weakened,” Gabrial added, her gaze never leaving the skin of her arm. Symbols and words flowed, moving in tandem with her eyes which scanned her skin like the page of a book. She studied them, brow creased in concentration. “Much like Robin, Aldrick is half-fey, meaning his story is scripted among the Creator’s words. I can see what he has achieved and how. There is no denying his success.” When Gabrial lifted her attention from her skin and sighed, a single tear rolled down her cheek.

“And our failure,” Cassial growled, mountainous arms crossing his chest.

“What can you see?” Seraphine asked, unable to hide the demand in her tone. “If he has one, then there are three more to get. Surely, we can keep Aldrick away from the rest of the keys?” The assassin lurked in the shadows of the cabin, fiddling with a short, serrated knife to keep her hands busy. “Or lead him to us if they share such knowledge.”

“Exactly, Asp.” Rafaela wrung her hands on the handle of her hammer. “However, it would seem that Aldrick is already aware of where the remaining keys are. Keeping the information from you will be of no benefit to us anymore–”

“Rafaela,” Cassial growled. “We haven’t discussed this.”

“Cassial, please calm yourself down,” Gabrial replied, clearly unconcerned by the bloodthirsty assassin who stalked her as a cat did its prey, nor the mountain of a man imposing over her.

“Tell us how we stop him,” I said, finally breaking my silence. “What good is waiting around discussing matters when we need to find and stop him? As Rafaela said, if he has one, he knows where to get the others. It is clear you know where the keys are and keeping them from us will benefit no one. Aldrick knows . Level the playing field and tell us what you are keeping.”

Gabrial and Rafaela shared a look. Cassial grunted in his own form of silent communication.

Duncan had remained as quiet at my side, silently surveying the shifting tide of tension within the cabin. He placed a hand upon my shoulder, setting in closer until his stomach brushed against my back. At first, I wanted to refuse his wish to join this conversation, especially with the way the Nephilim’s gazes always seemed to linger on him. But there was no keeping Duncan away, not after what had happened. Besides, I needed him with me.

After all, it was his choice to make, not mine.

“Believe us when we say that we have no interest in allowing Aldrick to lay his hands upon another key,” Rafaela said.

“And there is no saying what will happen if the gate keeping the Defiler imprisoned is weakened again.” Gabrial lowered her arms beneath the table, that single tear slipping off the tip of her button nose.

I wanted to ask what she cried over, but the time wasn’t right.

“Where’s this gate we are so concerned about?” Duncan asked, taking the words out of my mouth. “If such a place exists physically, should it not be guarded at all times?”

“Oh, it is.” Rafaela tilted her head, eyes trailing Duncan from head to foot. “The Isle of Irobel is not only our home but the very land in which the gods fought and won against the Defiler. Generations ago, when mortals and gods communed with ease, the Creator sent the Nephilim to live and guard the gate, never to leave unless the threat of the Defiler’s freedom became a possibility. Although we can be killed by mundane means, the Nephilim live far longer lives than humans or even the fey. We were made for this task.”

“I would suggest keeping conversations of your weakness at a minimum,” Seraphine added.

Rafaela shot her a look, her head tilting inquisitively. “Are we not allies, Asp? Why should we concern ourselves with sharing such knowledge when all in this room trust one another, do we not?”

It was a loaded question, and from the way Seraphine shifted her eyes to me, I knew she’d just opened the playing field for me to provide an answer. “Yes. We are allies. To be honest, we need as many as we can get if we are to face Aldrick.”

All I could think about was what Duncan had said about the fey we freed being the ones to fight for us. Why risk the lives of people I’d just saved, when there was a ready and waiting army just before us?

“I agree with Robin, but allyship comes with trust,” Althea said, turning the focus to her. “So, I have a few questions, if I may.”

Rafaela waved a hand for her to begin. “Be our guest.”

“Does the fact that Irobel is not charted on any map have anything to do with upholding the same air of secrecy for both your kind and the gate itself?” Althea asked. “I can only guess that removing all traces and stories of Duwar from both the fey and humans’ histories was important to upholding his imprisonment. But the lack of education about Duwar has only led us on the path of being unprepared. Frankly, our lack of knowledge has set us up to lose.”

Rafaela nodded, mouth edging into a frown. “If anyone ever said the fey were not clever beings, they were wrong.”

Althea’s rich eyes narrowed on the Nephilim. “Care to clarify if that’s a compliment?”

Rafaela placed a hand over her heart. Regret pinched at the corners of her mouth. “I did not mean to offend you, Princess Althea Cedarfall.”

Althea sucked her tongue across her teeth. The smack of it was the only sound she replied with.

We weren’t off to a good start. For the sake of our next steps, I had to take over.

“Gabrial,” I said softly, trying to ease my way through the tension. “Can you tell us how Aldrick found the first key? If you share the knowledge, it will help us keep him from the rest.”

“ That is not information necessary for you to be privy to,” Cassial snapped, tensing his broad frame as he spoke. It seemed even the veins in his neck bulged as though strangled between muscles.

I got the impression that talking to Cassial was more of a challenge than the rest of them.

“Cassial, if Aldrick has discovered the truth, then there is nothing stopping us from sharing it with them. We can agree on that, can’t we?” Gabrial looked to the brooding male, exuding the same demeanour of power without all the muscle and brawn. “As Princess Althea has suggested, perhaps we have been led down this road of failure because of secrecy. It has not brought us any luck thus far.”

I could see Cassial’s desire to refuse Gabrial, but one look at Rafaela, and he seemed to retreat. “So be it. On your head be the Creator’s judgement.”

“I am the Creator’s judgement,” Rafaela reminded, her tone overbrimming with the allure of a leader. “I say we tell them the truth.”

“The floor is all yours,” Althea said, displeased by the sibling-like quarrel. Or just displeased with Cassial, because her stare only fixed on him with a look of pure contempt, enjoying every moment of him being put in his place.

Rafaela cleared her throat, just as Gabrial nodded at her to begin. “It was Altar who forged the lock upon the gate, after agreeing with the Creator to banish Duwar. It weakened both gods greatly, not just in power but their relationship. Duwar was the thorn keeping them apart. Both gods lost immense levels of power trapping the Defiler in his prison, which can be felt to this day with their lack of physical presence in the realms. In a weakened state, both Altar and the Creator used the remaining essence they held and crafted physical beings in whom they could entrust the banishment of the Defiler to last eternally. The Creator, as we explained, crafted the Nephilim in his image. From his tears, we were made. Just as Altar created the fey from his blood. Altar tricked the Creator though. He took his essence, the keys to Duwar’s gate, and placed it in four of your kind. Burying his power within them with the purpose of stowing it and spreading it out as a fail-safe to keep the gate sealed. What I’m sure your god didn’t account for was that those four beings he had chosen would take their new power and use it to fashion a realm to benefit them. All whilst forgetting their initial purpose.”

A deathly quiet settled over the cabin. I could’ve sworn I heard every person’s heart beat in tandem. I took a breath, only to find my heart bundled in my throat. I almost choked on it. Rafaela’s words repeated like a puzzle that I attempted to piece together. The edges of my vision darkened as the world seemed to melt away. When I blinked, it seemed the darkness only insisted on drowning me entirely.

“I don’t understand what you are alluding to,” Seraphine snapped.

I wanted to look at Althea, but I was frozen in place whilst my mind pieced together the meaning of Rafaela’s story.

“Yes. What is it you’re trying to imply?” Duncan added. The warmth of his voice reminded me of my control. As always, it calmed me. At least enough to lean into his hand that was spread across my shoulder.

“The fey courts,” I said. “We’re the keys Aldrick is looking for.”

As if my words were the crack of a whip, the room exploded in mummurs and questions.

“Yes, that is correct,” Rafaela said. “Robin Icethorn, you are a key. One of the three left remaining. Althea, your mother is another…”

Aldrick had a key and it slipped through his fingers. It was me.

“Which leaves Elmdew and Oakstorm,” Althea muttered, gaze lost to a place upon the desk before us.

“From our understanding,” Gabrial added, “the Oakstorm key has recently exchanged place from Doran Oakstorm to his wife Elinor upon her return.”

“Yes, Elinor claimed it,” I confirmed, thoughts drifting to the instructions I had shared with her. Instructions I had to uncover myself when claiming the destructive power of the Icethorn Court, which I now recognised as something else entirely.

Gabrial said softly, whilst spreading her sorrowful stare across the room. “I believe you have a ritual for such a transfer, although the meaning has been lost to you, masqueraded beneath royal protocol. Although Robin, from what I’ve gleaned, you weren’t blessed with such a ritual. You faced the raw power of Altar’s essence and claimed it yourself, did you not?”

“If there was a passing of a key, I would know about it,” Althea snapped, eyes wide as she tried to make sense of the revelation.

“Forgive our choice of words,” Rafaela said. “We refer to Altar’s essence as a key, but it is not shown in the shape or form that you expect when linked with such a word. It is power unlike anything you can understand…”

“Power that could destroy a realm,” I said, remembering the bundle of pure magic that chased through Icethorn’s skies before I accepted it. “Elinor returned to the Oakstorm Court to claim it.”

“Except, it is not power .” Rafaela’s grip tightened upon her hammer. “It’s the key to keeping a demon from entering this world and destroying it. Hence the word. Althea, you would know about the succession rites of your court. Can you understand any part of it that could suggest the transference of a key from one to another, without realising the potential of power you accept?”

The Cedarfall princess pondered the question. Through her widened eyes I could practically see the cogs turning. “There is something. A short practice where the head of the court presents a labradorite carving to their chosen heir. It’s all I can think about.”

I’d never heard of such a rite before, but then again, my true family died before they had the chance to reveal such things to me. “What is that?” I asked.

“Labradorite is known as Altar’s bones. It’s the same stone that signifies the separating borders between each realm. It is what keeps the power in…” Althea blinked, realising something. “Because it contains power.”

Gabrial smiled, a proud grin one would expect a parent gave their child when doing something impressive. “Exactly, Princess Cedarfall. As the queen or king who carves their chosen statue out of labradorite, it contains the essence – Altar’s key – and then is given to the next. Although you do not remember the complexities to the rite, that is what it is for.”

“We wear them, for two weeks before we are crowned,” Althea said.

“Thus soaking the essence into yourselves without knowing,” Rafaela added. “Like water to a sponge. Although, you know what happens when the rite is not complete – as Robin Icethorn’s story proves.”

“Wait.” I gargled on the word. Dread traced its talon up my spine. A wave of pure sickness overcame me. “If a key has been destroyed, then…”

Althea’s chair screeched as she pushed out of it. Her force was so great that the chair tumbled, crashing into the ground away from her. We both worked it out at the same time, blinded first by knowledge, but even that couldn’t keep out the root of the conversation.

Aldrick had destroyed a key. Gabrial had shed a tear when she told us – as though she was grieving over something. No, not something. Someone .

“Who did he kill?” I spat, slamming ice-cold hands upon the table until ice webbed out across it, devouring wood within seconds.

Heat flared at my side, more magic spilling free into the air.

“If a key has been destroyed…” Althea’s eyes filled with furious tears, but her resolve kept them from spilling. Her entire body trembled, encouraging streams of heat to twist from her skin. Cassial flinched from her suddenly. “I hardly imagine the fey he has encountered would give the… power. The key, whatever it is. They wouldn’t have given it to him willingly. Who did Aldrick kill – is my mother still alive?”

Rafaela recoiled at Althea’s cracked shout. More of her heat pumped into the air, encasing the cabin in an unbearably sweltering fog.

Unable to let her suffer alone, but aware her lack of control could destroy us all in a single moment, I moved to her side. As my arms wrapped around her, I brought my icy chill to encase my skin, just to protect myself. Our powers clashed in a hiss, but I didn’t let go.

“Your family is safe,” I whispered into her ear, trying to convince her and myself. “I believe it.”

“Robin is right. The Cedarfall court has not been touched by Aldrick. At least, not yet.”

Then who? Elinor? The Elmdew kings? I felt guilty in the knowledge that I put more hope into it not being Elinor Oakstorm.

“If he touches them…” Althea didn’t need to finish her threat for me to understand it.

“I know,” I replied. “And I will be with you when he burns.”

“Aldrick has not destroyed a key, he needs them.”

That calmed Althea down, settling my own maelstrom within me. “Then no one has died?”

“Unfortunately they have. Aldrick will not destroy the essence, because he requires it. However, its host, they are only a barrier in his way,” Gabrial confirmed. “Destruction of such a power is detrimental to his end goal.”

“I will ask you again,” Althea seethed. “Who has he killed?”

Gabrial stood slowly from her chair, pressing her hands dutifully before her as though holding a flower between each palm. Across her skin, the symbols had stilled, fading to a faint silver until they looked more like old scars. Regardless, I knew they were there, waiting to be read by the Nephilim when required.

She lifted her azure stare, expression not matching the words that followed. “King Peta Elmdew and his husband, King Consort Dai. The spring court has fallen. I am so sorry for your loss.”

Gabrial lowered her chin, falling quiet. In the wake of her revelation, there was a heavy weight that set upon us all. Her silence allowed us to take in the knowledge that Aldrick had succeeded in killing the Elmdew kings. And that truth settled over my conscience like molten ash.

Gabrial’s previous sorrow made sense now. This explained why her stare lingered on her skin, rather than us, at the beginning of our conversation. She had known. Maybe even seen what Aldrick had accomplished.

If it had turned her to tears, I could only imagine how horrifying the truth really was.

“Can you… show me?” I asked. My throat burned with anguish. It took effort not to give in and allow it to overcome me completely.

Rafaela read Gabrial’s body language and spoke for her. The younger Nephilim dropped her stare, and retreated further to the side of the room.

“Their death was not kind, Robin. Witnessing it will not bring you anymore answers to what we have given you.” I read the emotion in Rafaela’s open stare and knew her refusal was a way of protecting me. “It would seem that Duwar shields Aldrick. Gabrial can only see glimpses of what has occurred. What she can glean seems to be what Aldrick wants her to see. How he has got such knowledge of the keys, and of us, I cannot yet comprehend.”

“We aren’t going to let him win,” I said, gaze lost to a place on the wall beyond Rafaela’s head. “Every move, every step. Aldrick is always ahead. So, we must find a way to leap ever further, to put him on the back foot for once.”

Not one disagreed with me, and yet I still couldn’t say exactly how we were to do this. But the seed was sown, I wasn’t prepared to give up so easily.

“Can you at least tell us how this has happened?” Duncan questioned. “Only days ago, Aldrick was in Lockinge. Knowing just how he has gotten so many steps ahead will help us navigate forwards. Please, Gabrial. We appreciate this is hard for you, truly. Any further information will be greatly appreciated.”

If there was no other reason I required Duncan in this moment, it was for how he spoke to Gabrial. Careful, and with respect. He was far more skilled at keeping his emotions in check than I was.

“I will try.” Gabrial cleared her throat, then lifted her reddened eyes back to the group. Gone was the sadness. Now anger replaced it. “Aldrick’s personal ties to the Elmdew Court root deep. Reading his past is messy, as though it has been tampered with. It would seem he left Lockinge long before you think he did.” I shot my eyes to Seraphine, who hardly masked the abundant surprise from Gabrial’s explanation. “Aldrick, alongside an army of mutated humans, crossed the Wychwood border and infiltrated the court. What I know, which is the clearest part I can see, is that Aldrick used his power to ensnare King Peta and make him give up his power somewhat willingly. What followed is…” Gabrial smacked her hand to her mouth. Her skin took on a greenish sheen.

“That’s enough.” Rafaela shot forward to fuss over Gabrial but was waved off. “No more.”

“I am fine,” Gabrial spluttered. “I just… give me a moment.”

Edging on the side of caution, I thought it best the conversation was taken away from what Gabrial had learned. The horror she’d seen had affected her greatly. It aged the young girl before my eyes, a heavy burden to witness the death of a person, whether she knew them or not.

Empathy was a unique gift, and Gabrial was overcome with it. I told myself that there would be a time we would demand answers, but for now, it could wait. Our focus had to be honed.

“What does this mean for us?” Althea asked, red-rimmed eyes lifting, the faint crackle of heat still emanating from her skin.

“It means that Aldrick is going to stop at nothing to get the remaining keys,” I said. “But we are going to stop him.”

“Yes, we are.” Rafaela locked her golden stare upon me, fixing me to the spot with her determination. “Robin, Aldrick is going to come for you. For all of you. But I… we will not allow that to happen. Going forwards, any step made, we do it together. If you will accept our help, we cannot make you.”

“We accept,” I said, with the confidence of the king I was becoming.

My hand shot out toward Rafaela, such a human gesture but one that the Nephilim recognised because she took my hand in hers, her grip iron-clad. “Then let us form a plan, ally.”