Page 10 of A Game of Monsters (Realm of Fey #4)

Erix was, as he always had been, polite. I woke to the tap of his knuckles against the door before it creaked open, waking me from my light sleep. My initial thought was he was going to mention the previous night, but instead he acted as if it had never happened. He didn’t give it the power of meaning something as he greeted me, asking how I slept, to which I’d lied when I said ‘well’.

“Zarrel has come to collect us for breakfast, so I thought I would wake you,” Erix announced, his too broad posture squeezed between the frame. “But I see you need some time.”

“Shit,” I mumbled, clearing sleep from my eyes. I’d slept, at most, a few hours and was suffering greatly for it. “Just give me… a minute.”

Erix nodded, already backing out the door. “I will wait for you outside and keep him occupied.” He looked everywhere but at me for too long. “Shout for me if you need anything.”

With that, Erix went as quickly as he came, bowing at me almost too formally, as he swept out of my chamber.

My muscles were stiff as I changed into an outfit one of Lockinge’s seamsters made for me, as per Eroan’s measurements. I felt bad refusing it when I was informed they’d worked night and day to have it ready for me.

The black shirt was buttonless and clung to the narrow shape of my torso. The collar was pointed on either side of my neckline like the tips of Icethorn’s tallest mountains. Gold thread had been woven into patterns across my chest, similar to the design on the decorative cloak that I clasped to my overly-padded shoulders.

It had been a long time since I had dressed in anything so fine. Eroan had given up making me lavish clothes when I stopped leaving Imeria. Or at least given up showing me them. My hope, for my duration here, was that no one noticed that I looked as much as felt like an imposter in fine silks and velvet. My reflection in the grand mirror – for all intents and purposes – was that of a king. Even a modest box waited for me, with a replica of the ice-tiered crown I left back at home.

I heard voices beyond the door to my rooms which made me pick up my pace. Before I left, I made sure the silver circlet across my brow was even, ensured my boots were laced tight and the lower parts of my trousers tucked neatly inside. I’d present as a put-together man, with exhausted eyes and a body affected by weeks of worry. Which meant I’d have to put on a rather convincing show when I faced the people waiting for me.

Erix stood vigil at the door, silently stewing beside Zarrel. Neither man spoke to the other when I interrupted them. The tension was so fragile a feather could’ve sliced through it. The white-winged Nephilim straightened his posture at my arrival, the gold and white armour made him look wider and taller than he’d appeared last night. But compared to Erix, he looked like a boy playing dress up.

“Good morning, Your Majesty ,” Zarrel said, although the last two words sounded more like a bite. “I trust your bed was comfortable enough for you last night. Because if not, please do let me know, and I can arrange suitable modifications for you.”

I swallowed hard. There was no point pretending the bed was fine, we all knew I hadn’t slept in it for long.

“It will do just fine,” I said, offering him a smile. “I do not plan to stick around for long.”

“That would be a shame,” Zarrel added with a sly glint to his eyes.

I swallowed my distaste for the man, focusing on the important matter at hand. “Have you come to give me some good news about Rafaela, or express your interest in my sleeping arrangements?”

Zarrel’s smile flattened, lips drawing into a straight line. He ignored my initial comment. “Nothing of note regarding Rafaela yet, but the day is still young and much can change.”

Erix refused to add comment, his pale lips proof of tension. It took effort not to lose myself in the way Erix looked, with the symbol of my court decorating his metal breastplate, the swash of dark grey cloak split in two places to allow his leather wings to fold into his back.

“I was just explaining to your guard here, that if we’d known you’d prefer to share a room, the accommodation would’ve been provided as such,” Zarrel said, slightly bowing his head. It wasn’t a sign of respect, but more a way of showing off the golden hammer – Rafaela’s hammer – strapped between his wings. “However, if all is well, may I suggest we get moving,”

Blood leached from my face.

“And as I explained,” Erix began, fists balled at his sides. “The movements and needs of the Icethorn King are not his concern.”

“I slept in my own room, Zarrel,” I added, feeling the need to explain myself for no apparent reason.

“You are our guests,” Zarrel explained, sweeping his gaze between us. “Your comfort is of the utmost importance to us. It was only that your personal guards informed me that you were seen walking into Erix’s room last night. I meant no offence with my questioning.”

“Then you should train them better because they clearly missed my return only moments later. Which, if I admit, worries me. Anyone could come and go without you knowing, clearly,” I said, knowing full well that Seraphine had got into my chambers, and no one had noticed.

Zarrel’s posture stiffened enough for me to notice. “Then I will make arrangements for tonight, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you,” I said, forcing a smirk, aware that if this conversation didn’t end soon, Erix may give in to the gryvern side of himself, and pluck the feathers from Zarrel’s wings with his sharpened teeth.

Zarrel turned on his heel, sweeping a hand for us to move. “Please, if you are both ready, would you kindly follow me?”

I shot Erix a glance, eyes widening in silent warning. Don’t act out . Then I followed Zarrel, his long strides making me skip a step to catch up.

“Back to my initial question, Zarrel. Is there a reason as to why no news about Rafaela is ready to be given to me?” I asked

“Yes, in fact there is.”

My scowl deepened. “And?”

“ And Cassial would like to discuss the matter with you himself. But first, a banquet has been put on this morning to welcome the four fey courts under our roof. I will take you there to eat and refuel. Cassial will meet you there shortly after.”

“I’d like to speak with him sooner, as a matter of urgency.”

Zarrel stopped so suddenly I almost barrelled into the back of him. “Pardon me, King Icethorn, but as you can imagine, Saviour Cassial is very busy arranging the final amendments to the peace treaty’s paperwork. The ceremony begins tomorrow, and before that there are necessary meetings to be held, signing of papers and the drafting of a highly important accordance which will – if you have not already worked out – truly bring the fey and human realms together, uniting them once and for all.”

The king within me rose to the surface, filling my voice with command. “Then I will speak with Cassial immediately on said plans.”

“Unfortunately, Cassial is occupied at this time,” Zarrel cut in, short and certainly not sweet. “As mentioned, the moment he is free, you may speak with him on any matter you now feel is important.”

I dared not look to Erix, but I sensed his bubbling disdain like a shield at my back.

“I – we – don’t have the time to waste.”

Zarrel’s wings flared, itching to spread and show dominance like he was a pheasant. “Unless you feel your personal matters outweigh the good of two realms, please show some patience. Cassial understands you wish to speak with him, but you will have to wait.”

I replied through gritted teeth. “I wish to speak with Rafaela, but that is clearly proving to be more difficult. I’m beginning to wonder why.”

“Do we ask about the happenings in your court?”

A shiver raced down my spine at his question. “Excuse me?”

Zarrel’s smile irked me in the deepest parts of my soul. “Forgive me, but I’m simply asking if we, at any point, have shown interest in what happens inside of Icethorn’s borders? Do we question you on your people or where they are, what they are doing?”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to him,” Erix glowered, more monster than man.

His response clearly amused Zarrel, who let out a belly laugh. “Oh, dear. Perhaps we do need to show more interest in the way the fey courts are run. Clearly, as evidence and history show, you all have barely coped residing beside one another. Betrayals, the unjust murders of monarchs and such. Thank the Creator we are here to help right wrongs and fix all the damage caused in our absence. I must say, Robin, I expected more from you. Instead, I’m presented by someone who allows their guards to speak for them.”

Ice crackled in the air around my balled hands. Zarrel noticed but didn’t care.

“Be careful,” I warned. “Very careful.”

“Of what, Robin Icethorn?” His eyes tracked me up and down. “You?”

“Yes.”

Zarrel swivelled on his heel and made a move to leave. The urge to reach for his hand and stop him was a siren call. “Please, do explain.”

I took a deep breath, all hopes of staying demure fading fast. “Is there an issue here, between us, I mean?”

It was an obvious question with an equally obvious answer, but this was the chance for Zarrel to address it. He looked me up and down, amused by something he saw. Erix hung back, listening and waiting, but doing as I had silently commanded.

“Why would there be, Your Majesty?” Zarrel finally replied.

Up until this moment I felt as though I was being scorned like a demanding child every time Zarrel spoke to me. “Listen, I understand we have our differences. No doubt you have opinions of me that you have formed due to my… previous decisions and actions. But the past is the past, and we are currently in a future of peace secured by those very mistakes you may believe I made. I think, for the sake of the next few days, you air your grievances with me, or we leave them in this corridor and forget them.”

Zarrel took a moment to let my words sink in. Then, slowly but undoubtedly, he began to let his guard down. “You’re right, Robin. I have held on to some dislike regarding the events in Rinholm, and perhaps I have let them cloud my judgement of you.” He fixed his bright eyes on me, locking me in place. “I apologise.”

“Again, I accept your apology,” I replied. “Perhaps we don’t make a habit of having to continue offering sentiments. And for that, offer the same. For any wrongdoings you hold me accountable for, I am sorry.” I didn’t need to say what those were, but we both knew that my involvement in destroying Altar’s keys went against the very purpose for which the Nephilim were even alive.

I flexed my hands, calling off the seeping frozen magic I’d not noticed had loosed itself.

“Then it is settled,” Zarrel added, sparing us both a final glance. “Please, let us move forwards.”

Figuratively, and literally I thought.

I nodded, falling into step. “I’ve built up an appetite after all that excitement.”

“Excellent. The food we have prepared for this morning is truly outstanding. Lots of dishes and recipes inspired by our home of Irobel. Tastes you would not even begin to imagine.” Zarrel nodded, agreeing to the silent end to the confrontation.

I did as he asked, only noticing the lack of presence at my back when I reached the end of the corridor. Erix was stood stock still, breathing laboured and eyes wide with fury. The last time I’d seen him like that, he’d proceeded to smash his fists into his half-brother – Tarron Oakstorm’s – skull until it was a concave mess.

“Erix,” I called back, snapping him out of his trance. “Let’s not keep our hosts waiting any more than we already have.”

Every step Erix took toward me was careful and calculated. It took him effort to calm himself, but he tried. When he reached my side, his gaze still fixed in Zarrel’s direction, I laid a hand on his arm.

“I have got you,” I said, hoping to draw him back to me with my voice.

Slowly, his gaze swept to mine. I watched the tension lessen in his face the moment his silver eyes fell on mine. “I don’t – like – him.”

“The feeling is mutual,” I replied, not taking my hand off him as we followed Zarrel. “But can you blame him, after what I did?”

What I’m still doing.

“I always thought the Creator’s teachings put forwards forgiveness as one of the highest beliefs.”

“It would seem Lockinge is not under the Creator’s guidance at this time,” I whispered, careful to keep my voice low enough for only Erix to hear. “The Nephilim rule in his place. Or Cassial’s ego-boosted position as Saviour, whatever that means.”

Yet more questions I had for Rafaela when I finally got an audience with her.

Before, the idea gave me some reprieve from my worry. Knowing people like Rafaela – kind-hearted and just – were looking after the humans would’ve been a positive thing.

I was beginning to believe otherwise.