I duck my head as a swarm of fireflies dance past me. But I don’t think fireflies laugh. I swallow dryly and concentrate on not staring. In one corner of the room, there is a giant tree with eyes and arms. And earlier, a group of little guys, no taller than my ankles, and wearing bright red hats, marched past me.
My world has really changed. Or maybe it hasn’t. Rhydian told me that the dragon riders were from my world. Later, he also told me that werewolves and vampires and all manner of creatures have always existed in my world. They simply hid from ordinary people like myself. It’s a lot to take in. Not only has everything changed, my reality never even existed in the way that I thought it did. The knowledge of that makes me feel unsettled. Adrift. Like a ship lost at sea with no bearings.
Rhydian feels like my only anchor. And that is ridiculous. He is my captor, not my saviour. But my feelings never have listened to logic.
A group of stocky people with very hairy bodies come over to talk to Rhydian. They ignore me, so I keep my eyes down and ignore them too. I have no idea if it is the right thing to do. The only thing I truly know about being a pet is lying back, being a pillow princess and letting Rhydian have his wicked way with me.
I lower my head even more as my cheeks heat. Hopefully, the dim lighting in here will help hide my blushing.
A peel of laughter catches my attention. Iestyn and the silver haired fey who took Dyfri away are lounging together on some cushions. I should have known they’d be friends. Assholes.
“Hey, rhocyn! Come here!” calls out Iestyn.
My blood freezes, and I quickly glance around the room. I haven’t seen Dyfri. I didn’t think he was here.
A willowy young man is standing a few paces away from Iestyn and his friend. His long blond hair falls free to his waist and his clothes remind me of Dyfri’s. The young man is holding a tray of drinks and is staring wide-eyed at Iestyn and the silver fey.
“I said, come here, rhocyn,” says Iestyn as he clicks his fingers.
The blond man hurriedly hands his tray to a passing servant, walks up to the vizier, and drops into a beautiful curtsy.
The silver fey sighs heavily. “Not this one. All he does is whine and plead. And his only skills are shoddy illusions.”
“Well, then we shall gag him,” says Iestyn with a wicked grin. “And illusions can be useful, my dear, even shoddy ones.”
He pats the cushion in the tiny space between him and the silver fey. The blond boy curtsies again and obediently sits between them. He keeps his head bowed and even from here I can see him trembling.
My stomach heaves and I look away. Rhydian’s warning that I can’t save anyone rings in my ears and I hate how true that feels right now.
The hairy people have wandered away and no one else has approached Rhydian yet.
“I thought Mabon was supposed to be keeping Iestyn occupied,” I hiss.
Rhydian glances over his shoulder as he takes a sip of his drink. His gaze goes unerringly to Iestyn. Rhydian shrugs and looks away. “It’s a party,” he says, as if that answers everything.
I bite back my growl of annoyance. Mabon has some choice. Some agency. Unlike this poor boy. But I can’t see the lilac haired, flirty prince anywhere.
A soft whimper reaches my ears and I flinch. My gaze is insidiously drawn over to the trio. Iestyn and his friend have their hands up the boy’s robes. I look away again. I’m going to be sick.
There has to be something I can do? But as I look frantically around the party, cold helplessness starts to fill my guts. This isn’t like the banquet. There are far more people here, more spread out. Attention is divided into hundreds of different pockets. Even if Rhydian was willing, I don’t think playing with me would cause much of a distraction at all. Certainly not enough of a one.
“Can’t you say that you want him?” I whisper at Rhydian.
He is the crown prince, after all. Surely all that rank is worth something?
Rhydian turns around to face me. “What makes me better than them?”
I glare up at him. “Because you wouldn’t actually do anything. Just say you want him and take us back to your rooms and then let him go.”
“Why would I do that?” Rhydian raises one condescending eyebrow.
This motherfucking asshole. I growl at him and clench my fists by my sides.
Rhydian calmly snatches some grapes from a passing server and pops one into his mouth. “Even if I wanted to, I could not. It would make me appear soft and weak.”
My fists slowly unclench, and I take a deep breath. He does give a shit, I know he does. It is just that his hands are tied. This world has rules that not even a prince can break.
“No one would know that you let him go,” I say. “He wouldn’t say anything.”
