“I’m fabulous, why wouldn’t I be?” Mabon proclaims as he flicks a lock of long lilac hair over his shoulder.
I grin, but manage to stay focused. “Rhydian asked you to… with Iestyn.” Damn it, that wasn’t very coherent at all. But I think Mabon has got the gist of what I’m talking about.
Mabon rolls his eyes. “That man doesn’t appreciate beauty.”
“He turned you down?” Relief floods through me. The thought of Mabon also suffering at Iestyn’s hands was horrendous.
“No one turns me down! He simply didn’t appreciate me.” Mabon sniffs in disgust. “He likes fear. That’s why he is so taken with the tylwyth pet Llywelyn gifted him.”
A shiver runs down my spine. Spring sunshine is flooding the sitting room and birds are singing, but suddenly it feels far too cold in here. Iestyn liking fear is a very astute observation. And the poor tylwyth, I hadn’t heard that he had been handed over permanently.
I take a careful sip of my tea.
“You’re not scared of him?” I ask as nonchalantly as I can manage.
Mabon wrinkles his dainty nose. “I dislike him. I’m not scared of him. I’m not scared of anyone.”
Now, that I can believe. I wish I was as brave and spirited as Mabon.
“Couldn’t you pretend?” I ask.
Mabon seems to have figured out exactly what Iestyn likes, and Rhydian said he trusted Mabon with his life, so surely Mabon would want to carry out his brother’s request?
A dark thought tries to snake into my mind, but I drive it away angrily. Even if Mabon had been distracting Iestyn as he was asked to, last night still would have happened. Last night was all about power and dominance and nothing at all to do with lust or boredom. All the blame for last night’s horrors lies firmly at Iestyn’s feet. No one else’s.
Mabon’s eyes narrow and he taps his nose thoughtfully. Shit! Has he discerned my thoughts? No, wait a minute. I think it’s fine. I think he is pondering my questionabout him pretending to be scared, and judging by his expression, it is an idea that has never even crossed his mind before.
“No,” he says eventually. “Dyfri is the actor.”
My heart thuds dully. “Rhydian won’t ask Dyfri to do it, will he?”
“Never!” says Mabon gleefully as he pours himself more tea from the silver teapot. “Big brother is very protective of little brother. Well, as much as he can be. The man who made Dyfri a rhocyn discovered that.”
I put down the cake I had just picked up. My eyes have gone as wide as saucers, I can just tell. Mabon grins at me in delight.
“It was so gruesome. Of course, nobody knew for sure who had done it, but at the same time everyone knew, if you know what I mean.”
I stare at Mabon silently and beg him to continue.
“The man was found laid out like a sacrifice. And his balls had been cut off and fed to him.”
Mabon pauses dramatically. “He had been made to chew them.”
“Oh, my god!” I shriek.
“Of course,” continues Mabon, his tone suddenly sombre. “The man was merely one of Iestyn’s puppets. Rhydian hasn’t been able to get to Iestyn yet and I don’t know why.”
“More tea?” I say sharply even though Mabon’s cup is over half full.
He nods anyway, and I start pouring. My hands are shaking. Shit, shit, shit. I need to change the conversation immediately. This is far too close for comfort.
“How is someone made a rhocyn?” I ask.
Oh, my god. What is wrong with me? This is a terrible choice of topic.
“Being weak enough that someone can overpower you and force you to submit,” answers Mabon. “And if they unbind your hair to prove it, that makes it official.” His eyes narrow. “Why so curious?”
“Just trying to understand how things work here!” I say, far too enthusiastically.
