Page 35 of A Kingdom of Lies
“Kneel,” the old man demanded, voice cracking against incense-spoiled air.
And they did, maroon habits kicked out around their feet as they got down onto both knees.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Just watch,” Duncan said, gaze fixed on the podium. A worried line formed between his brows which drew down into a frown. It was then I noticed that everyone else around us was muttering prayers beneath breaths. Everyone but Duncan.
“Oh, forgotten Duwar,” the priest began again as the veiled figures reached for something on the ground before them. I couldn’t see over their heads what it was they grabbed for until they each raised their arms up, hands held high to the sky. Across both palms they balanced a knife, one crafted from a dark dull metal that I’d not seen before. It seemed to swallow the light from the room, not even reflecting the glittering candlelight that haloed around them.
“Long have you been kept from this realm, from the hearts and minds of those who care for you. Patience is a gift only for a god, and a gift that you hold far greater than your kin. For a time is coming, and you will be brought redemption by your own hand, a second chance against those who scorned you; who locked you away; who kept your potential from us.”
The five figures twisted the daggers until the sharp edges were pointed down from the sky. They each held a hilt in both hands with a sure, strong grip.
“There will be a time when you will be free again, but until we are graced with your presence…” The crowd seemed to inhale at once, everyone waiting on the old man’s words with bated breath. “…feed.”
The figures brought the daggers down simultaneously, slamming blades into their chests without word or sound. Where screams should’ve sounded, only silence replied. One by one they slumped forward –dead– as the crowd of Hunters watched, continuing their prayers. Then the room exploded in bloodthirsty chants of a name over and over.
“Duwar, Duwar, Duwar.”
The brush of cold lips tickled my ear. I couldn’t even flinch. My body was frozen in shock, my mind wondering if this was what my father had once done. The thought sickened me. The old man writhed before the blood-leaking bodies, arms held high, as he muttered strange words to himself. Every now and then he scooped up blood with trembling hands and doused his body in it.
“This is disgusting,” I said, finding only that word coming to mind.
“Those with a belief are known to do desperate things,” Duncan whispered in return. “Have you seen enough?”
I nodded, unable to blink or make a sound. All I wanted to do was leave, to rid my nose of the smell of blood by inhaling deeply out in the fresh air.
“Good,” Duncan said, hand pushing at my back as he urged me out of the room, all without a single Hunter looking our way. “Now, are you certain you still wish to meet with the Hand?”
There was a warning hidden beneath his words, a double-edged threat that would have sliced deep no matter how he said it. It was as if he dove into my mind and retrieved thoughts I believed I hid from him.
Duncan didn’t wait for my reply. He guided me away from the ominous chanting, back out into the fresh air. As I inhaled lungs full of air, riding the stench of incense and the taste of blood from the back of my throat, I couldn’t help but cling to one important fact.
Duncan hadn’t joined in with the prayers. He hadn’t uttered a single word.
It was as if he was warning me of the nest of vipers before I stuck my hand in. But why?
CHAPTER 12
“If I had known we were surrounded by cultists I would have preferred to be left at death’s door.”
Althea looked terrible. Her skin was as pale as the sheets she lay on, although I couldn’t discern if that was from the iron poisoning flooding through her blood or the information I’d unloaded after Duncan had brought me to her. Strands of poppy red hair spread across the pillow beneath her, loose curls stuck to her damp, glistening neck.
She’d already been awake when Duncan had practically pushed me within the chamber room, locking the door behind me. Gyah had looked up with golden eyes brimming with concern, fingers gripped on Althea’s shoulder as though I’d interrupted a moment of privacy. She removed her hand quickly, but not before I noticed.
I’d proceeded into a breakdown of everything that’d happened. Their expressions were stoic until I finally drew a breath at the end of my tale. Not once did they interrupt me, not until I was completely empty of news.
“And you’ve never heard of the god Duwar before?” I asked, watching as both Althea and Gyah shared a look of confusion.
“I was hoping you would have had the answer for us, Robin,” Althea said, wincing as she pushed herself into a sitting position despite Gyah quietly insisting she stayed lying down. “Humans are known for their strange beliefs and idolism of the Creator. But no, I have never heard of this Duwar before.”
“Well, it must mean something to them.” Gyah gestured to the door and the many Hunters beyond. “To take your own life in the name of belief shows that this Duwar is important. More than just a name and story.”
“Or they are just the crazed fuckers we have always seen them as,” Althea added, brows furrowing as she tried to shift her body to get comfortable.
“Except they helped you,” I reminded, taking me back to another point of the conversation. I thought that admitting it aloud would help make some sense as to why Duncan would willingly heal a fey when he was personally funded to see them captured, slaughtered and stolen. “Now we know what happens to the fey who the Hunters capture. This Below, or whatever Duncan referred to the prison as, it sounds like there are hundreds of fey stuck there.”
Althea chewed her cracked lip, contemplating the news. “I think we need to take caution with everything Duncan says. He is our enemy, he could be playing a game–”
