A slow, malevolent smile spreads across Dyfri’s face. “You are smarter than you look.”
“Thanks,” I grumble. Talk about a backhanded compliment.
Dyfri comes back to the workbench and places his armload of supplies down. Then he starts pulling tattered silk away from my wounds. I hiss and try to stay still.
“Of course, Iestyn could simply have wished to enjoy beating you,” remarks Dyfri casually as he moves onto tugging the remnants of my robes off of my shoulder, baring my torso.
“No. Iestyn is a slippery bastard. There was more to it than that,” I tell him.
I know I’m right. Gut instinct. A hunch. Intuition. Whatever it is called, my mother would be thrilled to know I’m finally listening to it.
Something cold and sticky smears onto my back and I groan in relief.
“So what are you going to do?” asks Dyfri.
I sigh. I don’t know. My only thought was to get patched up and make sure Rhydian never finds out. There hasn’t been any time to plot any further.
Dyfri starts to hum as he works. “You were already plotting to kill him. Is this going to make you move your plans forward?”
“I don’t know,” I confess, and I rest my forehead against the workbench.
Rhydian is probably right. I am no match for Iestyn. Going up against him will likely only get me killed. It was a foolish dream. If Rhydian has never been able to get rid of him, why did I think I stood a chance? My stupid sense of justice was clearly ignoring reality. Yet again.
My muscles relax as the ointment seeps into me. I knew Dyfri was the right person to come to. He’ll heal me. Rhydian will never know, and I will give up on my plans of eliminating Iestyn.
My fingers dig into the wooden worktop and I grind my teeth so tightly that my jaw aches. As sensible as that plan is, I can’t do it. I just can’t. I cannot stand the thought of allowing Iestyn to get away with every terrible thing he has ever done.
“Are you going to give me poison?” I ask.
Because there is no point in making plans if I’m not even going to have anything to work with. If Dyfri isn’t going tohelp me, I might have to give up. Despite how enraging that would be.
“If you are sure you still want it,” replies Dyfri calmly.
Thank fuck for that. I don’t have to surrender my dream. There is still hope. Now I just have to figure out how the hell to get the poison into Iestyn’s food without getting caught, or leaving any traces to myself or Dyfri.
“You could always challenge him to a duel,” says Dyfri.
I snort loudly. “Yeah, right.”
Dyfri doesn’t laugh. He cannot be serious?
“Are you crazy?” I exclaim.
The next layer of cream goes on rather forcefully, and I wince.
“I’m not crazy.”
“He is a powerful fey with magic and shit!” I protest.
Dyfri sighs heavily, as if I am the world’s biggest idiot. “And you are human.”
I blink for several minutes while my mind tries to decipher that puzzle. But I have to give up because I have nothing.
“And?” I prompt.
“Maybe you are as dumb as you look, after all!” snaps Dyfri.
Something that feels like soft cotton presses against one of my wounds. Then Dyfri’s hands reach around my front and start wrapping a bandage around me. His tone may be harsh, but his touch is gentle.
