Page 61 of A Deception of Courts

“Robin Icethorn, we will find the perpetrator who murdered your allies. But understand, when the answers you seek are not what you wish to hear, do not return to my home again. As Rafaela here understands, the truth is not always what we wish to know.”

“And… what of my other requests?”

“It will take some days to get answers back from Elmdew. In regards to protecting the Oakstorm and Cedarfall queens, I will make that request of any remaining Asps who’ve yet to vacate those courts. They will stay back and keep a close eye on those you wish to protect, until this hell is over.”

It was my turn to bow, overcome with gratitude but being careful just how much I showed. There was a weakness in relying on others, but a strength, too. I just hoped it was worth it.

“Thank you, Seraphine. I am truly sorry I have had to bring this to your door again.”

Getting information from Elmdew, and knowledge into what happened to Gabrial, was only the beginning of what I came here for. But knowing Elinor and Lyra would have the added protection of the Asps and Nephilim shielding them when returning to their courts made everything worth it.

It was a risk coming to Imeria, but it had paid off by the skin of my teeth.

Without Rafaela, I fear I’d not have been so successful.

Regardless of our success, I couldn’t sleep. The little rest I had fallen into was riddled with Jesibel once again. It always felt so real. The dreams more tangible as time passed on. I was left to stare up at the darkened ceiling, trying to shake the discomfort from the dream I’d just woken from. I still sensed Jesibel’s fingers rifling through my head. Picking at visions, one at a time. Gabrial, Seraphine, Imeria Castle. It was as though she wished to haunt me, punishing me for failing her by making me relive everything terrible that had happened.

Sleep had joined my growing list of enemies. I couldn’t face closing my eyes again for fear of what I would find.

Duncan’s broad back faced me. The moment his head hit the worn, dust-ridden pillow, he’d fallen easily into the peace sleep offered. He’d not moved a muscle since.

I had busied myself with tracing my nails across his skin. Faint pink lines were left in my wake. I watched as they faded within seconds before my eyes. At least those marks did. The other scars that littered Duncan’s body would never be scrubbed away.

I thought of Gabrial and the words that stained her skin, telling stories of others, whereas these marks, the ones that crisscrossed in silver, puckered lines, told of Duncan’s story. The pain he was subjected to during his time as a Hunter. Each etching was a symbol of his defiance. Some were not as pronounced as others. Across his right shoulder blade was a thicker, angrier scar that bumped beneath my finger as I ran over it. I drew my hand away as though it had burned me like fire.

Unlike the other scars, this one was a memory of the pain. Pain I’d caused him. What his ultimate defiance, falling in love with a fey, had resulted in. Even if I vowed to make sure he’d never face suffering at my hands again, I couldn’t shake the knowledge that everyone around me was at risk.

And yet, selfishly, I wouldn’t send him away.

I rolled over, ignoring the exhaled moan of Duncan who, somewhere in his subconscious, recognised the withdrawal of my touch. Unable to subject myself to my traitorous thoughts a moment longer, I swung my legs off the bed and stood up.

Beyond the narrow, long windows was a sky blanketed in the darkest of black. Thin wisps of cloud passed across the moon that looked hauntingly large this far up in Imeria Castle. It cast its ivory glow into the room, bathing everything around me in an ethereal glow.

I wondered what this room had once been used for. Who dwelled in it? It was far too small to be used as a chamber room. I imagined it was well-suited for a storage room, but I couldn’t be sure.

Wherever I looked, questions haunted me, forever unanswered.

I snatched the cream tunic from the bundle I’d left on the floor. Pulling it back over my head, I didn’t bother to work the ties around the neck. Instead, I left them loose to allow the kiss of chilled winds to devour my skin and wash the sticky sense of exhaustion that laced it.

Once I was dressed, I padded across the cracked, slabbed floor to the door. I clung to the aged wood that creaked as it swung open. Glancing back at Duncan, who still hadn’t stirred awake, I gave myself two options.

Crawl back into the warmth he provided to the thin sheets, or wander through Imeria in search of the ghosts and memories that would make me feel something for this place.

I pulled the door closed behind me, shutting away the easier of the two options. I picked the latter and left Duncan alone.

Imeria Castle was a maze of empty rooms, narrow corridors with ceilings hidden by shadow and grand, glassless windows. Beyond them was a view of the Icethorn Court, which stretched like a patchwork of white, grey and silver for as far as the eye could see.

My thighs burned as I paced up endless stairs and down hallways that led to more hallways with closed doors on either side. The light grey carpet runner provided my bare feet with some warmth. Like most of the castle’s aged decor, it was ripped and frayed.

I steadied myself by placing a hand on the wall. My fingers trailed over marks and scars as I dragged my touch along it. I didn’t take long to see hints of the battle that’d been waged here. The slaughter of the family I’d never know. I saw three equally long scratch marks gouged deep into the stone, snatching my hand away as a bout of sickness uncoiled in my stomach.

Bannisters had snapped, exposing sharp splinters of wood that gave way to a great fall to a landing beneath the curved stairway. In some places, I had to take care not to walk over shards of glass hidden beneath flurries of snow let in from the destroyed windows.

Time had not been kind to Imeria, just as the gryvern hadn’t been when they came and turned this place into what it was now.

A graveyard for my family. A place where the Icethorns should’ve all perished.

I would’ve thought I’d feel closer to my mother, walking on the same floor she had once walked. Treading in the same places she had. Occupying rooms where she had lived a life. But the truth couldn’t have been more opposite.

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