Candles and crystals hang from the too high ceiling and illuminate the room with light and shadows. Jewels sparkle from clothes and glitter shines from skin. It’s beautiful and spooky.
There is no grand, formal announcement of Rhydian’s arrival, but a fair few people look up and acknowledge him with small bows and curtsies. Rhydian holds out his hand and theatrically drops my leash.
Murmurs and titters spread out across the crowd, and then everyone resumes what they were doing.
Bastard. I wish he had told me he was going to do that. It clearly signifies something, but I have no idea what. Does it mean I have been tamed? That I’m no longer a threat? Fully brainwashed and firmly ensnared by Stockholm Syndrome?
Rhydian strolls away and it is clear from his body language that I’m not to follow. I scowl at his back and make my way to the drinks table. My now defunct leash kisses the floor lightly as it trails gracefully beside me. It looks more like jewellery spilling down the length of my robes. I wonder who measured it so perfectly?
A group of laughing people step in front of me, forcing me to stop. I look up and accidentally meet Iestyn’s dull green eyes. I see him blink in surprise and then turn away as if I’m nothing. The bastard is surprised I’m alive. My fists clench at my side. Rhydian having to kill his pet was part ofhis plan. I’m savagely glad to have thwarted his intentions, but I’m just about clever enough to realise it has put me in great danger.
Even more reason to do something. Revenge. Justice. And self-preservation. It all sounds good to me.
I reach the drinks table that is tucked in against one long wall. I pick up an ornate glass of clear liquid that I hope is water. Then my gaze falls on Dyfri, standing a little way down the table, holding a silver goblet that is smoking slightly. His robes are all shades of black and grey.
I hurry over to him. The relief of a friendly, familiar face is immense. He doesn’t appear to be serving tonight, and I’m so very glad of that. But I have a sinking feeling that it doesn’t make him any safer.
His raven dark hair is gorgeous. It is falling free and unhindered to his narrow waist, and apparently I’ve been living with fey long enough that the sight is a little bit shocking. I’m so used to seeing elaborate updos, that all that loose hair looks decadent. Almost obscene. As if he is naked.
My hand runs over my curls. My hair is now long enough to fall in my eyes and be annoying. Not long at all by fey standards, but I feel all kinds of self conscious that it is loose.
Seems it is not only my body that has changed. Fey ways of thinking have seeped into my very mind. It is extremely disconcerting. I shove the thought to one side, to deal with later. This is a party. I want to try to have some fun.
“Hi!” I say brightly to Dyfri. It feels like I haven’t seen him in an age.
“Hello,” he replies with a cold look in his eyes as he sips his drink.
My heart sinks. “Did Rhydian tell you not to speak to me?”
“Yes,” he says simply, and I suppose there is not much to say to that.
I sigh heavily and sip my water. But I don’t move away. Rhydian hasn’t forbidden me from standing next to his brother.
We watch the milling, brightly coloured crowd in companionable silence for a while. But there is something I need to ask him. Some seed of an idea that is germinating in my mind.
“I need some poison,” I whisper.
Dark eyes rake over me. “I’m not helping you murder my brother,” he says calmly.
“What?” I gasp in horror. “No! I don’t want to murder Rhydian!”
It is shocking to think that to outsiders, I’m a captive. A pet. An unwilling victim who yearns for freedom. I thought Dyfri had sharper eyes than that.
“Who then?” he asks.
He looks suspicious, but I can tell he believes that I mean his brother no harm. He can see the truth, after all. And that thought is giving me a warm, fuzzy feeling in my stomach.
“Iestyn,” I admit casually.
Dyfri raises one dark eyebrow. “What has he done to you?”
A quiet rage simmers in my soul. “He hurt someone that I…like.”
“You already stole Ninian away. That’s infuriating him plenty,” huffs Dyfri.
I shake my head. “That’s not enough. He is still a threat.”
Dyfri gives me a long, dark look. I can feel him examining my very soul. “Who is it that you care so much about?”
