Rhydian is on his back, spreadeagled on the sheets. Vines have grown out of the bedposts and wrapped around his wrists and ankles. They twist and tighten. Rhydian isn’t fighting them, he isn’t struggling. He is lying still and meeting Iestyn’s gaze evenly, a haughty look on his proud face.
His white nightshirt is covering him, but I hate how vulnerable he looks.
“It’s been so long, my dear, I thought you might have forgotten me,” says Iestyn as he steps even closer to the bed. “But I can see in your eyes that you still remember.”
Iestyn places his hand on Rhydian’s white nightshirt. The many rings on his fingers contrast sharply against the cloth. He starts to lift the cotton up.
This cannot be happening. It has to be a nightmare. The world doesn’t tilt and change so suddenly, so dramatically, so unexpectedly. Except, I know very well that it does.
My eyes slam shut. My heart is going to pound right out of my ribcage in a minute. What the fuck do I do? Do I get Pinky? Do I try to hit Iestyn on the back of the head with something?
But if he can defeat Rhydian, I am certainly no match for him. I have no magic and I’ve never been in a physical fight in my life. Pinky is scary but I cannot put her in danger. If she was powerful enough to take on Iestyn, I don’t think she’d be a servant.
“Don’t worry, your Highness. I’m not here to make a rhocyn of you. I simply need some dream walking abilities for a little project. I won’t tell anyone. It will be our little secret. Just like it has always been.”
I’m going to be sick. I’m going to heave up my guts. Rhydian is going to be raped, and I’m just going to sit here on the floor in my own vomit.
The bed creaks softly. Rhydian’s breath hitches ever so slightly.
No, fuck this. I have to get help. I try to move to crawl towards the door, but I can’t. It is like there is an invisible circle drawn around my spot on the floor. One I can’t leave. The fucking bastard. Fuck magic. Fuck fey. Fuck everything. I’m useless. Helpless. I’m being forced to witness and do nothing else.
Well, fuck that. I scrunch my eyes up tight and cover my ears with my hands. I want to hum or sing, but I don’t. Instead, I focus on sending my mind far, far away. Where I can’t hear anything.
Eons pass. Stars are born and die. But eventually, finally, I feel the moment Iestyn leaves. Gravity becomes lighter. The darkness brightens. The air moves again.
Tentatively, I open one eye. It is true, he has gone. All is silent and still. Beams of silver moonlight are illuminating the sight of Rhydian curled up tightly on the bed. The vines are gone. He is free. And I can move again. It’s over.
“Rhydian?” I whisper.
I nearly say, ‘Are you okay?’ But manage to bite it back just in time, because, of course fucking not. What a completely ridiculous question.
No answer, not a sound. No movement, nothing.
Carefully, I edge towards the bed. Rhydian still isn’t moving. His long pale hair is all messy, but some braids are holding on for dear life.
I climb onto the bed. “Rhydian?”
The world spins. I’m on my back. Rhydian is above me. I glimpse a sliver of moon tinted death before the dagger presses against my throat, just above the leather of my collar. Where the fuck did that come from?
Rhydian’s eyes are dark in the moonlight. Frantic and distraught. But coherent. He knows who I am. This knife is not at my throat from panic. This is calculated. Planned.
I want to swallow, but that’s probably a terrible idea. The blade is cold against my skin and probably razor sharp. Any movement could be the end of me.
“I won’t tell anyone,” I whisper, very, very carefully.
Pain flashes in his eyes. “I cannot give anyone that power over me.”
My guts feel cold, as if they are full of ice. I hate what Rhydian is saying, I truly do. But I understand. I’ve seen enough of his world to know. If anyone knew what had happened tonight, then Rhydian would be deemed a rhocyn, and that is a fate I would wish on no one.
“Put a spell on me, so I cannot talk,” I say.
It is pointless to beg him to trust me. He trusts three of his brothers, but no one else. It’s pretty clear that trust is hard to earn here. I don’t know if that’s a fey thing, or a power thing. Perhaps it is both. Given all the cruel and heartless folk who reside here, it is fair enough that trust is rare.
“I cannot bind you to silence. People will wonder why you have a Geas,” he answers, dashing all my hopes.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want Rhydian to have to kill me. But I’m not seeing a way out of this. Sure, we have had some mind-blowing sex. And he is fond of me. But I’m still only a human. Just a pet. Someone he has only known fora short while. There is no reason for him to throw his life, his crown, and his power away.
Because while Dyfri gets to be a rhocyn and a prince, somehow I cannot see the fey letting a rhocyn rule them.
