Page 1 of A Game of Monsters

CHAPTER 1

Duncan Rackley was dying, and it was all my fault. That was a truth which haunted me day and night, never leaving the edges of my mind. And as I left Imeria Castle behind, I couldn’t stop thinking about my duty and how, if I continued to ignore it, the fate of the world – the peace it believed it had finally achieved – was under threat.

I tugged down at the hood of my cloak as the harsh winter winds embraced me. My mare, a beautiful black steed with a velvet coat glittering like obsidian, battled through the downpour of sleet and snow, undeterred and unbothered. Snowflakes as big as my hand obscured the view, leaving gentle kisses against my ice-cold skin. Although my waxed jacket kept the material from becoming sodden, I still felt the chill of my court deep in my bones.

Ice and blood, one and the same. And yet, I felt like a stranger to it. Undeserving and unwanted, human but not. Fey but not. A king in name but nothing more.

Lost to the storm around me, I was no different than the snowflakes that fell: helpless to do anything but exist in the stream of wind that guided me along, waiting for my inevitable downfall.

Life in the wake of saving the world should’ve been a cause for happiness and joy. At least that was the case for everyone else. For me, I knew the truth. When we destroyed Duwar’s gate and its keys, supposedly locking the demon within its eternal prison, the truth was Duwar had escaped in a new prison. The flesh of the man I loved. His bones were a cage hosting the demon, his skin a shield to hide the dark truth from the world. My burden was to know this damning truth and find a solution to it, all whilst the world around me delighted in an era of peace it’d not seen in a long time.

I could hear the town of Berrow before I saw it. The streets were alive with chatter and noise, the delightful call of full homes and streets bustling with my people.Mypeople, as if I could claim them, as if I deserved them. But I buried those thoughts as Silvia, my mare, trotted onto Berrow’s main street, leaving my horrors and worries behind.

Although I hated to see my people’s misplaced love for me, today, I forced myself to face them. In the months that had passed since our battle at Rinholm Castle I’d kept myself secluded in the ruins of my castle, with no desire to mingle with a world which I put under threat with every passing hour. But today, I had a purpose for my visit to Berrow, and for that I’d have to leave behind my self-loathing, if only for an hour.

“King Robin,” a fey called from his stall at the side of the road. He was bundled up in fur and thick materials, his pale face almost completely concealed by a knotting of scarfs, all beside two beady black eyes and rosy cheeks as red as apples. For a moment I thought of Jesibel – my friend who had survived Aldrick’s treatment but had survived… changed. Like Jesibel, this fey was one of those we freed from the Below: the underground prison beneath Lockinge Castle. I’d promised to return him home, and I’d fulfilled that promise. And yet, he was safer in Lockinge Castle’s prison than he was here with me.

Because there was a demon lurking in my shadow.

“How do you fair, my king?” he asked after I didn’t reply to his initial greeting. My subtle nod clearly wasn’t sufficient as a hello,ora farewell. “Could I offer you a warm cider for your travels, a gift of my thanks for everything you have done for us?”

I smiled down at him, unable to formulate words. Truthfully, I wanted nothing more than to take the drink, down it and demand another. Alcohol was ideal at numbing the mind and its anxieties. But it was best the town didn’t see the man they called king getting drunk, considering they hadn’t seen me in weeks.

Drinking myself into a stupor was something I’d do when I returned to Imeria. Drowning my worries, hoping the sharp spirits would dull the reality of horror I hid inside of me – and the walls of my castle.

“Thanks for your offer.” I watched as his expression faltered, obvious upset creasing his forehead into a map of lines. “But maybe next time?”

The peddler nodded, wafting a steaming mug of warmed ale to tempt me one final time. “It’s made from the recent harvest at my orchard. Something that wouldn’t have been possible without your funding and aid.”

I smiled, because it was the least I could do. “I’m glad to hear you’ve had success, and really, I do appreciate the offer.”

A king may not need to explain himself to his people, but old Robin was an over explainer, so I couldn’t help but offer one final excuse in hope of dampening the man’s clear offence. “I have a meeting with someone very important, best I don’t stumble over my words during the conversation.”

“Aye, Your Majesty. I understand, thank you for stopping.”

I squeezed my feet into Silvia’s side, urging her ahead, not wanting to see the disappointment glaze over the kind man’s eyes. “Always.”

The deeper I travelled into Berrow, the less I could fathom just how much it had changed in the past few months. The once-empty town was now overspilling with life. Fey and humans dwelled beside one another, occupying homes glowing with lit hearths and alive with the song that was joy. The streets had been cleared of debris, ruins of buildings either completely rebuilt or still under construction. If there was anything that could distract me, it was seeing the success of rebuilding Icethorn as the grand place it had once been. Silver linings and all.

Being here, surrounded by it, I found it hard to imagine there was remaining tension between Wychwood and Durmain – the human and the fey realm. Or the internal conflicts in the Oakstorm Court.

A world once divided had been brought together; or at least that was the illusion I had neatly woven.

If only they knew the truth.

I left Silvia with the stable master, who promised her carrots and oats. I thanked him, careful not to allow room for further conversation. Silence was easier to navigate these days. It was what I was used to… unless my advisor, Eroan, came to visit.

Even more vendors had been set up on either side of the street. I smelled cinnamon dusted on baked goods, salted meats roasted over fires and the sharp-tang of harsh cheese mixed with sweet fruits. I would’ve given anything to join them, to delight in their wares and laugh alongside them. But I had something I needed to do –itemsto collect before I returned home to the demon I hid within its walls.

For the umpteenth time, I mentally ran through my short list.

Iron. Gardineum extract. Books. News from the world beyond my cold castle walls.

Before I knew it, my feet had taken me to my first destination. I scrunched my gloved hands up, starring at the town hall as though it was my greatest enemy. I knew who waited inside and had spent weeks doing what I could to stay away from him, even if that was far from what I wanted to do.

It took courage to step inside, leaving the comfort of the street. But I did it because I had no other choice.

The town hall had been one of the most damaged places in Berrow, so much so I didn’t even notice that Berrow had one when I first visited with Erix after escaping a gryvern attack. It’d been excavated from beneath rubble and snow. Once nothing more than a shell – a skeleton of rotting wood and rooms full of snow and ice – it now stood tall, thanks to the supplies my allies in the Cedarfall Court had sent to aid in the rebuilding effort. A month, that was all it took for it to be rebuilt as the heart of Berrow. Dark, oiled beams held up an impressive curved ceiling. The treated wooden panels that made up the exterior and interior walls had been treated with fire, making them impenetrable to the cold and further decay.

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