A polite scattering of applause echoes around the room.
I shift position to hide my erection. Rhydian glances down at me briefly, then looks away. But the bastard knows. I know he does.
How did my life come to this?
Chapter fourteen
I’m not ready for a banquet. I’m not sure I will ever be. It is so hard not to fidget as I stand here in the sitting room waiting for Rhydian. The bastard told me to be ready in five minutes and now he has the nerve to take his own sweet time.
My gaze flicks to a side table, and my cheeks heat as memories come flooding back. Yesterday, right after the orgy, Rhydian bent me over that thing and stuck his tongue in my ass until I screamed his name and came harder than I have ever cum in my entire life.
I wonder if he’d be up for a repeat? Instead of going to this awful sounding banquet? My heart rate quickens at that thought, but who am I kidding? Seduction is not one of my skills and even if it were, I don’t think Rhydian is the type to be swayed. He knows what he wants and when he wants it.
And speak of the devil, here he is striding out of his dressing room while looking incredible. I can’t tell one fey outfit from another, but I know he looks damn good. He looks like a prince from a fairytale. His pale hair is all but glowing, and his antlers seem like a crown.
He moves towards me with a predatory grace, clicks a leash onto my collar and continues out of the door, forcing me to scramble after him or be choked. He is such a bastard.
His long legs make quick work of the hallways. I really don’t need to worry about keeping three paces behind him. My top speed is just about managing four or five paces. Being any closer is just impossible.
We reach some huge and impressive double doors. A row of servants bow while others work to open the doors wide to reveal a full banquet hall. The sheer size and grandeur is dazzling. Enormous chandeliers and marble fireplaces. Pristine white table cloth that stretches on for miles. More silverware and fancy glasses than I have ever seen, and a whole sea of people, both human and fey, climbing to their feet and staring at us.
I try to swallow, but my throat is too tight. They have to be staring at Rhydian. Why would anyone look at me? I’m not interesting at all. I mean, I’m far hotter than I used to be, but compared to fey, still really nothing to look at.
The sea of people bob as everyone sinks into either a bow or a curtsy. Fuck. I’ve spent so much time with Rhydian, he just seems like Rhydian to me. An arrogant asshole, for sure. But I appear to have forgotten that he is the ruler of Britain. Conquer and invader and supreme overlord. He is both our prime minister and our king.
He resumes walking and I concentrate on not falling flat on my face in front of all these people. Rhydian takes a seat at the head of the table. A gentle tug on my leash tells me to take the seat next to him. I think I’d rather sit on the floor, at least that way I’d be out of sight.
And whatever happened to me sitting on his lap? He said it was practice for banquets, but perhaps that is going to come later in the evening. I shudder and obediently sit down on the chair next to Rhydian. I’ll take a good thing while I have it.
As soon as we are seated, everyone else takes their place, and an army of servants swarms into action, sliding plates of delicious looking food in front of everyone. My plate looks exactly the same as Rhydian’s. I glance down the table. The human guests appear to have been given something different. That’s a relief. I’d feel awful about not warning them of the dangers of fey food. Not that I know what the dangers are. So far, I’ve only experienced the reward, but I’m not stupid enough to think there will not be a price.
Beautiful music rolls around the room. A full string quartet accompanied by someone playing a grand piano. This is a very human styled event. Or at least, the fey’s idea of what a fancy human banquet looks like. I wonder why? Is it to make the human guests feel more comfortable? Or is it to mock them? Perhaps it simply amuses whoever’s idea it was. I guess I’ll never know.
I stare down at the overabundance of knives and forks in my place setting. Is it out to in, or in to out? I can never remember. I’ve not been to enough fancy events or posh restaurants to ever need to retain the knowledge.
Rhydian confidently picks up the fork on the outside edge of his setting, so I copy him. The moment the salad touches my lips, I want to moan in bliss. It tastes so damn good, and it makes me pretty. I’ve already eaten so much fey food there is zero point in being cautious now. In for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying goes.
All around me, conversations start to flow. I can feel the tension leaving my shoulders. This isn’t so bad. All I have to do is sit here and eat dinner. I can do this.
The humans keep looking at me and I can hear the name Graham Grantham being whispered, but I can ignore it. I’m not even going to try to speculate who these humans are. It is irrelevant. It is not as if they can help me. And they are too far down the table for me to be able to speak to them. So I might as well act as if they are not there.
Instead, I’m going to focus on the fey princes. Knowledge about them and their relationships with one another are by far the most important thing I can learn tonight.
Llywelyn is sitting on Rhydian’s left. His winged pet is nowhere to be seen, and that is making me feel uncomfortable. Has the prince done something to the young man? Hopefully not. Hopefully, the pet is safe and sound back in Llywelyn’s rooms. But there has to be some significance to his absence. Something that I don’t have enough knowledge to figure out. It is frustrating and alarming, but I’m going to have to put it to one side for now.
Llywelyn is the most dangerous brother, I’m sure of it. He gives me ‘entitled tech bro’ vibes. If he was human, I swear he’d post stuff online about being an alpha and a high-quality male.
Sitting next to him is Selwyn. Mr Sexy Tumnus is dangerous too. In a smarmy used car salesman way. All charm and snake eyes.
I don’t think Tristan is a threat. His red hair is gleaming tonight, and he is grinning broadly at all the guests. He seems to be a harmless enough himbo who only causestrouble with his cock. But I’m not going to let my guard down around him just yet.
Mabon is sitting next to me. His obsidian dark horns look as if they have been polished and his lilac hair is mostly up in an elaborate array of braids and twists. He is using his knife and fork daintily and looking sweetly innocent, but he doesn’t fool me. He could well be the most dangerous person on the high table. He is definitely a queen. If he were human, I bet he would do drag and be a bossy, dominant bitch who everyone was terrified of.
I quickly shove a tomato into my mouth to hide my giggle. My mental image of Mabon as a scary queen is just too funny.
I want to tell Dyfri. But where is he? I crane my neck and look left and right, but he is nowhere to be seen and there isn’t an empty place setting.
“Where is Dyfri?” I whisper to Rhydian.
