“You are such a softy!” I exclaim.
His amber eyes narrow and I chuckle.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”
A ghost of a smile teases at the corners of his lips. He thinks I’m an idiot, and that’s precisely why he likes me. It is the best thing ever, to be liked for who I am and not despite of it.
“What do you wish to do today?” he asks.
Oh, good question. What does one do the day after vanquishing one’s foes? When you get to spend the whole day with your fey prince lover? Who romantically declared his love for you, and then showed you very thoroughly in a way that has left you delightfully sore?
My gaze drifts over to the window. Judging by the sunlight peeking through, it is a glorious day. The great British weather has finally shrugged off winter.
“Let’s have a picnic,” I say.
“As you wish,” agrees Rhydian.
Okay. I suppose this is technically a picnic, but it is not exactly what I had in mind. This setting is great, in front of a lake, on what once was a lawn, but now is pretty much a meadow of wildflowers.
There is a blanket on the grass, just like I was picturing. But I did not imagine a cream coloured one the size of my entire flat.
Enormous red velvet cushions to sit on are a good idea, I have to admit. And the spread of food is incredible. But having it arranged on a long low table to the side of the blanket and having a small army of servants bringing our choices to us on silver plates, is not at all like a traditional picnic. But I think I can get used to it.
Just like I can get used to being fanned by a servant waving a large fan made of peacock feathers over me. The gentle breeze it is causing is exquisitely cooling, and I love the way it softly ruffles my hair and makes me aware of my braids.
Everything is wonderful. The sun is shining, the sky is blue. The lake looks inviting. Butterflies of every different colour are dancing around the wildflowers. It is all quite lovely. But my favourite thing to look at is Rhydian.
He looks relaxed. At ease. Dare I say happy? I have no idea how he manages to look so darn elegant sprawled back on an oversized cushion, but he does, and I’m only a little jealous.
His pale hair is gleaming in the sunlight, and his proud antlers look incredible. His princely clothes fit his body perfectly and I’m extremely happy that I know the body underneath them. Know it very well indeed.
I stuff a purple grape into my mouth to hide my naughty smirk. Rhydian looks at me as if he can read my mind. I swallow my grape and flash him an innocent smile.
His eyes narrow in suspicion. But he says nothing.
“So are your parents going to turn me into a frog for vanquishing their lover?” I ask. Partly to keep him toodistracted to discern my naughty thoughts, and partly because it is something I should probably know.
Rhydian frowns. “I will handle them.”
Well, that’s not very reassuring. At all.
Rhydian takes a bite out of a strange fruit I don’t know the name of yet. His gaze never leaves mine, though, and soon he sighs in surrender.
“He amused them. Kept them entertained. They indulged him, but there were no true feelings. Nobody has ever liked Iestyn.”
A vague wave of sympathy starts to coil through me, but I snuff it out. That man is an evil bastard, of course no one has ever liked him. It is fitting. And well deserved.
“Good!” I huff.
Oops. That came out all kinds of bitchy and vindictive. Is Rhydian going to be shocked? I watch his face closely, but he simply offers me a plate of cheese.
“No thanks,” I groan. “I’m stuffed.”
“In that case, shall we retire to the gazebo?”
Ah yes. The gazebo. A few feet away. Beautiful and decadent. Deep royal blue and complete with a full sized double bed draped in white linen and fluffy pillows.
Rhydian really doesn’t know how to do picnics. One day I’m going to teach him. Right now, I’m going to enjoy this.
