Page 29 of A Deception of Courts
“Had us fooled when you sank one of my ships,” Althea reminded, knees bowing slightly as she readied herself.
“That was before we knew who andwhatyou are.”
“What we are?” There it was again, the strange use of words. It unsettled me enough to relax my hold on my power and command Seraphine to stand down. “What do you mean by that?”
Rafaela looked to Gabrial, who shook her head in silent refusal. Whatever Rafaela was about to say, she swallowed it, took a deep breath and shifted her gaze to Cassial. “Let them leave if they so wish, Cassial.”
“That would not be wise,” he replied, refusing to move. “You know it as well as I.”
“Theymayleave, but… not alone.” Rafaela’s voice brimmed with control. The leadership she held among their group was clear. Cassial did as he was asked and stepped aside from the doorway, but not without a snarl at Seraphine, who, in return, snapped her teeth at him in play.
“Ready our fleet,” Rafaela called out after us as we slipped out of the cabin before another could stand in our way. “It would seem our journey is not over yet.”
“Where will you go?” I asked, turning back to see Rafaela’s full attention on me. Although moments before I wanted to run from this room, there was a small part of me that knew these beings were the key to dealing with Aldrick.
“Wherever you go,” Rafaela replied with words I didn’t expect. “We shall follow.”
I tried to swallow, but my throat seemed to have closed up. I only managed one rasped word. “Why?”
“Because you are crucial to ensuring Duwar stays locked in his dimension. Your survival is our survival.” Rafaela stood, muscles flexing in her arms as she placed them at her sides. “As mentioned, we will provide any supplies lost. In the meantime, take the time you need to settle any internal grievances. When you are ready to discuss how we can benefit you, we will be here.”
CHAPTER 9
I stared up at the ceiling, bedsheets sticky around my naked limbs. No matter my desperation for it, I had no hopes of getting back to sleep. The sour taste of the nightmare I’d dredged myself out of still haunted me. A dream of black stone pillars, winged humans and a demon god trapped behind glass.
The worst part of it was seeing Jesibel. The context was strange. But it felt so real. As though Jesibel made me recite everything I had learned whilst weighing up if my failing her was worth it.
Now, as I tried to steady my breathing, I focused on the carved details of the wooden ceiling and couldn’t answer the question.
Deep in the belly of the Cedarfall ship, the air was thick with moisture. The cabin must have been buried beneath the surface of the ocean. Damp seeped through the oiled plank walls and filled the dank air entirely. The overwhelming scent of salt soon became an afterthought when my mind and stomach cursed the constant swaying of the boat. It was no surprise that I fought to keep down the measly plate of hard bread, cured meat and cheese that waited for us when we returned from Rafaela and her fellow Nephilim those hours before.
As they promised, small vessels overloaded with supplies had been brought to us. More proof that we could trust them. And yet, there was something about their interest in Duncan that made me want to keep a distance.
Duncan’s rhythmic breathing was the anchor I required. It prevented me from losing myself in the maddening sway of the ship and the dream, which worked in tandem to curse me. I latched onto the deep, rasping inhales and the slight whistle he made at the peak of his exhale. His closeness didn’t help the heavy, sweltering warmth that encompassed me. But I didn’t desire there to be any distance between us at all. In fact, whilst one of my arms was resting behind my head, the other was pressed next to Duncan’s with our fingers intertwined.
My hand ached from being linked with his for so long, but regardless of the discomfort, I kept it where it was.
It was better he slept. He needed it. Even if he’d put on a brave face and joined in with our conversation about what was discussed with the Nephilim, he still suffered. Duncan had fallen asleep only moments after his head hit the pillow. One minute we had been weaving out of conversation and kissing, the next, he was quiet. His dark lashes fluttered as he entered his dreamscape. I hoped his dreams were not as haunting as mine had been.
There was another part of the vision Gabrial had shown me, which I had kept from repeating. Although it had not infiltrated my nightmare, as if the information was not important to the phantom of Jesibel, now it was all I could think about.
Erix.
I would have lied to myself if I had pretended not to have thought of him often. The plans of freeing the captured fey had been more demanding of thought, but he always lingered. Now, surrounded by the ships that held those we had saved, my mind seemed to have found the capacity for Erix. Encouraged by the two tormenting words that would always remind me of him.
Little bird.
What happened to you?I screamed into the darkness. My fingers tightened around Duncan’s as the feeling of panicked desperation for the answer overwhelmed me.
When Queen Elinor Oakstorm killed her husband, Doran, I wondered if it had somehow killed Erix as well. The gryvern had been an extension of Doran’s will. His twisted offspring. And they hadn’t been seen since they attacked the castle that fateful night, so I could only think they perished. What I hoped for was something completely different. Seraphine shared reports from the Lockinge civilians, which told of the gryvern fleeing, but that had been it.
A strong, loud part of me hoped Erix grasped enough control over his own will and body to get as far from Lockinge as possible. Or that he found peace, in whatever form that would have been.
Just as I often did and had grown extremely efficient at, I shelved the dark thoughts and moved on to others. The list of my torments was long and ever-growing, but they could wait until we saved the world from Aldrick.
I’d chosen not to tell Duncan that Rafaela inquired about him, as had Seraphine and Althea. Rafaela and her fellow Nephilim could look anywhere else, but Duncan was mine. I recognised the feeling for what it was – territorial. However, this was not a feeling I buried easily. After what I had lost, no one would take him from me.
I hated we were not already sailing for Wychwood, even though it had been my command that was given to ensure that. There was something about the Nephilim keeping me here – a conversation still left untouched.
