Page 82 of A Deception of Courts

Gyah waited until the woman claimed her bread and moved on before accosting me with her accusation. “Something is bothering you,” she said out of the corner of her mouth, careful of those listening in.

“How long have you got?” I huffed, offering her a pathetic grin before dishing out the stew to the never-ending line of fey. I recognised many of the faces from Lockinge and the journey to Icethorn. Now, though, the faces were fuller, their eyes not so tired.

“Althea told me you’re still struggling to sleep.”

The words hung between us, the silence treacherous. It had been three nights since Jesibel had invaded my dream and each night since she’d returned. Actually, sleep was easier now, but that didn’t mean I wanted it. I almost preferred the chaos of seeing Jesibel. The silence, the space without her, made everything worse.

“Don’t trust them.”

Three words that were on the verge of driving me to the point of insanity. I looked across the bustling room of the old town hall and rested my eyes on Duncan. He was flocked by a group of burly looking fey men and woman, with stern glares and gritted jaws. He had busied his days gathering a small band of them, people keen to help protect their newfound home. He trained them in physical combat and they helped him with controlling his power. Most of his mornings were spent convincing new recruits, and his afternoons were busy training for the inevitable fight to come.

Although he was always only a short glance away, I still felt like I hadn’t truly seen him in days. We were ships passing in the night, barely getting time to be together.

“Oh, you know,” I replied. “Apparently sleep isn’t a luxury until the world is saved from a mad man and his demon pet.”

“There are draughts that can help with that, you know,” Gyah said, tearing another piece of bread into six smaller chunks, the muscles bulging in her sleeveless tunic.

“I’m tired to the point of exhaustion, I could fall asleep now. That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?” Gyah pressed.

“Do you have a draught that will deal with Aldrick? If I could take that, I would.”

Gyah huffed, well aware that my worries were not misplaced. “Good point. But, you know, we’ve been talking. Don’t be pissed at him, but Duncan has told us about your nightmares. He’s worried about you.”

I warmed at the sentiment, glad to hear Duncan’s love for me was obvious to those around us. “Even when I dream, I don’t feel like I’m sleeping. It’s been like this since we left Lockinge, and I know I’m one more pathetic night’s sleep awat from my sanity cracking. But… it’s getting better. Slowly but surely.”

“It’s been going onthatlong?” Gyah’s nails pinched into the hard crust like a hot knife through butter. With one great tug, it split in two, crumbs falling like rain on her boots.

“My subconscious has a way of punishing me for failing someone. Now I dread closing my eyes for fear of another berating.”

“Robin, why haven’t you said something about how long this has been going on?”

I pursed my lips as I contemplated my answer. “With everything going on, I didn’t think it was important to divulge my personal issues. As if there aren’t more pressing matters to worry about. And what could be done about it? Not even a stiff drink has the power to fend the nightmares away.”

Gyah’s lips pulled into a taut line. I saw her cheeks flutter as she chewed the soft insides of them. This was a habit I noticed a lot more than before.

“Something is on your mind now,” I accused.

Gyah didn’t tell me I was wrong. “Did this Jesibel ever divulge her powers to you?”

I shook my head, almost pouring an entire ladle of stew onto my boots instead of the bowl before me. I mouthed my apology to the young woman who moved along to Gyah swiftly.

“Believe it or not, there wasn’t much of an opportunity to discuss such things during my intimate stay in Lockinge’s prison.”

Gyah nodded, her golden eyes still scrutinising me. Althea swept in with the new cast-iron pot hanging like a pendulum between two strong arms. Her muscles bulged, the freckles across her skin rippling, as she heavily discarded the full pot of stew before me.

“This is the last of it,” Althea said, hardly breathless. Flour was smudged across her cheekbone. She attempted to clear it with the back of her sticky hand, only to smear more on the attempt. “It is going to need to stretch to feed the last of the line. Not so heavy-handed this time, Robin. Make it last.”

My face warmed at Althea’s reaction to my stew-covered boots.

“I’ll try my best,” I spluttered through a yawn.

Althea and Gyah shared a look that brimmed with concern.

“Remind me to ask Elinor for a draught to help you get a proper night’s rest,” Althea said. “Your nightmares are now punishing the rest of us with your snappy mood.”

The concept of a draught – dreams or not – actually sounded heavenly. Just a few hours without worry and I’d be back to normal.

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