A shiver wracks my body and my heart pounds. Shit. I’m terrible at this. I’m so out of my depth that it is not even funny. I’m trying to help, but all I’m going to end up doing is spilling all of Rhydian’s secrets and making everything a thousand times worse.
My gaze darts around the room, seeking an escape route. The crowd parts and reveals the tylwyth pet kneeling in a corner, his heavy leash wrapped around a pillar. It feels like a sign.
“I can’t tell you,” I say as a blush comes to me easily.
Dyfri’s dark gaze tracks mine. He sees the tylwyth and frowns. Thank fuck he has fallen for my subterfuge.
“Always had a weak spot for the underdog,” I whisper for good measure.
I hope this is believable. Rhydian thinks I’m too soft and too kind, so surely his brother has a similar opinion? It’s not a wild leap to think I’m all emotional about the tylwyth being forced to be Iestyn’s pet. Because that part is true.
Dyfri gives me a mistrustful look. He takes another sip of his drink. “I’ll see what I can do,” he says quietly.
I stare at him until he rolls his eyes.
“I don’t carry poison on me!”
Well, that’s good enough for me. That’s very good indeed. In fact, it’s making me feel all kinds of invigorated and hopeful.
I grab another glass of water and weave around the edges of the ballroom until I reach the tylwyth. This is partly for Dyfri’s benefit and partly because I do actually give a crap.
I drop gently to my knees in front of the chained pet and hold out the glass of water, making sure my offering is in his line of vision.
“Here,” I say softly.
He raises his head. Bright purple eyes stare at me. Full of hatred. Rage. Fury. He seems to recognise me and his expression softens. He takes the water and gulps it down.
I stare at the bruises on his face. He stares at my collar. Heat prickles uncomfortably along my skin, making me squirm.
“Would you like some food?” I ask.
He nods and I hurry away, because I want to give him food before I am caught. I’m not hurrying for any other reason. Nothing at all to do with shame that my captivity is so very different from his.
The table of the fey equivalent of canapes is blessedly deserted. I grab a plate and fill it with a selection. I do not know what kind of fey foods winged men like to eat or even can eat. I hope he knows if any of this stuff is poisonous to him.
The echo of that thought shivers through me. The rage in his eyes replays in my mind. My gaze falls on the dainty cake knives. I swallow and quickly make my way back to the pet.
I kneel before him again. My back is to the fey, who have now started dancing to twinkling, strangely eerie music. I hand him the plate of food and I press the cake knife into his palm. His eyes widen. My hand is in front of my body. I know no one can see, but cold sweat is drenching my back.
The tylwyth moves his hand lightning fast, and the silver knife disappears into his robes.
“It’s probably a stupid idea. But it is the best I can do for you,” I whisper.
He nods. A flash of thanks sparks across his purple eyes, then he starts quickly devouring the food.
I rise and leave him to it. My heart is thrumming and my limbs shaking. I hope it works. I hope he stabs Iestyn and gets out of here.
I could blame this bloodthirst on the fey’s influence, but part of me has always been a vindictive little shit and capable of holding a grudge for all eternity. And right now, I’m not ashamed of it at all.
I’m proud.
And this is merely a practice run. A stepping stone towards my true goal.
If all goes well, Iestyn is going to get what he truly deserves.
Chapter thirty-one
Well, that evening was a total bust. Spending the entire ball watching Rhydian dance and talk to absolutely everyone apart from me, was not my idea of fun.
