A noise like an angry cat, drifts on the spring air. I peer through the willow leaves and see two fey men passing each other. One dressed in blue, the other in yellow. One is hissing and the other growling. But they continue walking without further incident.
“What was that about?” I ask. Mostly as a distraction from my outburst.
“The man in yellow challenged the man in blue’s son to a duel,” says Tristan dutifully, even though he is still eyeing me warily as if he has discovered I’m a dangerous animal that might bite.
“Oh, what happened?” I ask as I plaster on my most pleasant expression.
I need to put Tristan at ease. Walking around the gardens, in the fresh air and the spring sunshine is like a balm to my soul. So much better than being cooped up all the time. I need Tristan to make a regular thing of this. So I can’t scare him off, or have him report to Rhydian that I’m too crazy to be allowed out.
Tristan stares at me intently for a long moment, then his shoulders relax. “The man dressed in yellow, Aerie, he won and killed the other man’s son.”
It’s working, I’m reassuring Tristan. Wait. What did he say? The fey I just saw strolling around without a care in the world is a murderer? My jaw drops open.
Tristan grins. “Of course, he could have forced him and made a rhocyn of him. Or simply unbound his hair and let him go, turning him into an outcast. But he chose to kill him.”
I blink several times as my mind processes the horrors it has just learnt. It is a lot to take in. The rules of fey culture are savage. It is very unsettling.
“That’s awful. The poor father,” I say.
Tristan raises one delicate red eyebrow. “Well, Aerie’s conquest had killed Aerie’s younglings.”
“What!” I splutter. “Why?” This is getting worse and worse.
“They were being noisy,” shrugs Tristan, as if that is a perfectly reasonable explanation. As if murdering children is not that big of a deal. As if it happens every day.
I stare at Tristan. He stares back. His worried, cautious look returns. But he doesn’t look at all disturbed by the dark atrocities he just shared with me. He is simply concerned that I’m about to have another strange outburst.
“Let’s get you back to your rooms,” he suggests carefully. “We can continue our language lesson another day.”
I nod and allow him to lead me away. I follow him blindly. My mind is whirling and my stomach heaving. I was beginning to feel at home here. I was starting to think of the fey as exotic looking humans. But I was wrong. I’ve been an idiot. A foolish, stupid idiot.
Fey are monsters. Through and through. They are not human at all.
I need to remember that.
Chapter thirty-three
Pacing around the sitting room isn’t getting any more entertaining, but I don’t know what else to do. Rhydian left early this morning, saying he couldn’t take me with him today and that he’d be back late. Tristan is busy. I’m still banned from seeing Dyfri. Pinky can’t find Mabon anywhere to ask if he is free. So I’m left with absolutely nothing to do. Again.
I’m going to lose my mind. Well, whatever bits of it I have left.
I pick up one of the books I’m reading from the shelf and flop despondently onto the chaise lounge. The radio is playing quietly in the background, but I’m not really in the mood for that either. I’m not only bored, I’m agitated too. Tristan’s revelations yesterday in the garden are still haunting me.
A stark reminder of reality. I love the luxury of life here. I’ve grown fond of several of the fey. Sex with Rhydian is fantastic and I’ve truly grown to care for him. But there is darkness and danger everywhere. I’m not dealing with humans. I’m hugely out of my depth.
I sigh heavily, and it echoes around the empty room. I might as well admit to myself what is truly on my mind.
Is Rhydian a monster?
Have I fooled myself into seeing what is not there? Is the idea that he is kind and caring under his icy armour simply what I want to believe? Have I been engaging in anthropomorphism? Giving human attributes to those around me, like people do with their dogs and cats?
Groaning, I open my book. I need a distraction from my spiralling thoughts. There is no point asking myself the same questions over and over again when I’m unlikely to ever know the answers.
Humans can be awfully cruel, too. I know this. I may well be panicking over nothing. The fey I am surrounded by could be exactly like humans, just of the cruel variety. I might simply be a sheltered little dweeb, and Rhydian could be everything that I think he is.
I take a deep breath to try to clear my mind as I turn the page of my book. A piece of paper flutters out and nearly lands on my face. Puzzled, I put the book down and pick up the piece of paper.
My mum’s beautiful handwriting glides across the plain white paper. My heart is hammering now. I sit up straighter and read the note.
