Page 47 of A Deception of Courts
Gyah’s expression softened, her body leaning into Althea’s side, not for support, but to eradicate as much distance between them as possible. “You’re lucky for that. Any other outcome and I would’ve torn the muscles from your bones. Which, by the looks of it, you have a little more of than when I last saw you.”
My body had changed from training with Seraphine and a few weeks of decent meals. I felt stronger because I had to be, for the people I’d done everything to save.
“And you…” Gyah snapped her attention to Duncan. He recoiled slightly from the beast lurking in her gilded eyes. “WheredoI begin.”
“Perhaps this is the best moment to reintroduce myself?” Duncan added, stepping to my side with a hand extended to Gyah. There was no denying the slight shake of his fingers, but I gave it to him, he didn’t back down. His confidence, although forced, matched Gyah’s demeanour. At least he didn’t share the same hesitation that Kayne still showed as he sulked behind with Lucari chirping quietly on his shoulder.
If anything, Gyah would smell the fear off Kayne and relish in it.
“No need, Hunter, I remember you perfectly fine.”
Althea leaned into Gyah’s ear and whispered something. I couldn’t make out a word, but whatever she said caused one of Gyah’s brows to rise as she looked over Duncan with a scrutinising stare.
“We will see,” Gyah said, replying to whatever Althea had said. Her words were entirely out of context.
Duncan lowered his hand awkwardly, fingers flexing as he put them back to his side. “So, what a lovely reunion, but I think we have a few details to smooth out before we set up bed for the night.”
“A few?” Gyah barked. “And the award for biggest understatement goes to you, Hunter.”
“Duncan,” he added. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer that.”
“If you both don’t mind sizing one another up, my mother is waiting inside there with Elinor Oakstorm.” Althea gestured toward the large, pitched tent behind her. It was more like a small home than any tent I’d seen before, but then again, it was put up for royalty. What else did I expect?
“Let’s not keep them waiting then,” I said, gesturing for us to all move on.
“Ah, ah, ah, Robin. This audience is for you, and you alone.” Althea wrapped a hand around Gyah’s shoulder. “Whilst you put on your big king pants to discuss matters privy to the heads of courts, the rest of us will share a strong cup of ale to celebrate our return to Wychwood.”
“You’re not coming?” I asked, already knowing the answer but wishing for her to surprise me.
“Never has there been a moment where I was glad not to be wearing a crown. Robin, good luck, and we’ll have a mug ready for you when you finish up.”
I glanced at Duncan, who nodded in silent confirmation. “Go. I’ll look after Kayne. I will make sure he’s got some meat left on his bones once the shifter has finished with him.”
Gyah snapped her teeth in jest, and Kayne actually flinched. It was hard not to laugh, but that wouldn’t help my attempt at befriending him.
Anyway, it wasn’t Kayne I was worried about.
Duncan took my face in his hands and brought his lips down on my forehead. When he pulled back, he spoke through a gravelly whisper. “I’llbe fine, Robin.”
“Come on, you unlikely band of allies,” Gyah practically shouted. “Let’s see if my enjoyment of humans improves after something strong to drink.”
“Careful with him,” Duncan said, cocking his head in his friend’s direction. “Kayne’s not accustomed to powerful women.”
Kayne swallowed hard, freckled face burning scarlet. “That’s not true–”
“That much has been clear,” Althea snorted. “We wouldn’t want to break him, Kayne has proven rather useful over the past few weeks. It’s nice to have another redhead around, reminds me of home.”
With that, the four of them sauntered away from the tent, three more willing than the other. I would’ve given anything to join them. Instead, I looked toward the tent and swallowed the stone of dread that had lodged itself in my throat.
Now was not the time for laughter between friends. I shed that skin, adorning the mask of king, as I lifted a hand to the dark grey material of the tent’s entrance. For a few more hours I’d don my crown and be the person I was trying hard to convince myself I was. Not that it would matter. If I couldn’t trick myself into believing it, how in Altar’s name could I deceive the formidable women who waited for me inside?
Jewels of orange flame flickered from the central brazier, emitting warmth and enough light to matter. It cast shadows across the leaning walls propped up by thin poles of wood, which caused the material of the tent to bow between each rod. I was glad to have something in my hands, to stop them fidgeting. Already the skin around my nails was ruined from the incessant chewing. Thank Altar for the warmed cup of leafed tea that helped, the taste of wild berry a welcome relief from the salt that had invaded my mouth from the days of travel.
I found my attention drifted between the two queens until I felt more like a fly on the wall than someone with something to add to the conversation. My eyes fell upon the makeshift table, landing on the tea-stained maps, candles covered in cream wax and a single sword with a spiked sun carved into the end of its handle. The weapon belonged to Elinor, but was currently being used to hold down the curled edges of Wychwood’s map. But as the orange glow licked across its sharpened edge, there was no denying its more useful purpose.
“Robin, you have had the most interaction with the Nephilim,” Queen Lyra added, lifting the lip of her mug to her lips. Unlike Elinor and me, Lyra did not need to blow at the boiling, berry-infused water. She seemed to enjoy the scolding presence it left as it trailed down her throat. Perhaps the fire within her body enjoyed such a feeling. “What do you have to say about them as a threat to the fey? Now they have reached our land, they have become the minority. It would hardly take much force to deal with them before their interest in us sharpens to something less friendly.”
“They aren’t our enemies,” I replied, trying to match the authority that coated Lyra’s voice. “Aldrick is.”
