I spoon some yoghurt into my mouth and the delicious flavour dances over my tongue. It only distracts me for a moment, though.
If things weren’t already confusing enough, I need to know if I can trust the Resistance. That wasn’t my Scoobies last night. It was much higher ups. Which isn’t surprising. Me being here is far beyond my little cell’s remit or capabilities.
But it means it all boils down to trusting strangers, or trusting Mabon.
Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place. What the fuck am I going to do?
Chapter nineteen
Ican’t believe I’m at a real life ball, of all things. My mind is convinced they only exist in fairytales. Like the fey who are swanning around in their fancy clothes.
I’m a simple man. How has my life ended up like this? Fey princes, balls and Buckingham Palace. If I ever get my old life back, I’m never going to complain about anything ever again, I swear!
Give me early morning alarm clocks, rainy skies, rude customers and a hard day’s work. Please. I want it back.
I close my eyes and groan quietly as realisation hits me. My imagination was just picturing untangling myself from Mabon when the alarm clock went off. And giving him a sleepy forehead kiss before leaving for work.
That damn man has seeped into every part of me, and it is ridiculous. Mabon in my tiny flat? Playing house while I sell fruit and veg on my market stall? My imagination is deranged.
My gaze unerringly finds him amongst all the swirling dancers, though if I’m perfectly honest, it’s not like I ever trulylooked away. He looks amazing. Elegant, refined. Ethereal. All the things I am most definitely not.
But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to go to him. My leash has been carelessly slung around the leg of this drinks table. It’s absurd as well as insulting. One firm tug, and the whole thing will go flying. Yet here I am, standing quietly and obediently. Like a good boy. It’s enough to make my blood boil.
Suddenly, my attention snaps to a group of willowy fey who are drifting past me. Their green hair is either moving on its own, or caught on a breeze I cannot feel. All three members of the group titter at me.
I clench my fists and ignore them. I’d laugh at anyone I saw wearing these stupid leather trousers, so it’s only fair. Mabon decreed that I shouldn’t wear a shirt, so there is nothing to hide the obscene bulge the trousers are making. I never thought I’d miss my Princess Leia outfit.
The willowy people glide away and I’m standing alone and ignored in the corner again. Except now I’ve lost sight of Mabon and it is making my heart pound. I crane my neck and scan the undulating crowd frantically.
There! There he is. Dancing with Duke Carian. My fists clench by my side. Then I watch in horror as Gwydion sidles up to him. Now Mabon is caught between them and I swear what they are doing is the fey equivalent of dry humping on a nightclub dancefloor. It’s making me sick with worry.
It’s also making me jealous. And now I’m angry that I’m jealous. I don’t want all of these feelings. I just want to be left alone.
But as I watch Mabon laugh and twirl, I can’t help wishing it was me out there with him. I want him to be smiling at me. I can’t see from here, but I bet he is flashing his dimples.
Spinning Mabon around the dancefloor under glittering lights while he beams in delight, eyes sparkling with joy. That would be amazing.
The trio head towards me, so I straighten up. But it is the drinks Mabon wants, not me. I watch as he gulps one down breathlessly.
“You’ve worn me out!” he giggles to the two men crowding him.
Gwydion steps up even closer behind him. Carian runs a predatory finger over Mabon’s chest.
“There you are!” says a soft voice right beside us.
It’s Dyfri. Mabon’s dark-haired brother, and he looks amazing. His lovely hair is all loose and flowing. Glossy enough to catch the sparkling lights. His robes are clinging to his slender body, highlighting his narrow waist and skimming enticingly over his hips.
Mabon splutters on his drink.
Duke Carian turns away from Mabon. “Ah, rhocyn. Are you free tonight?”
A teasing, flirtatious smile ghosts over Dyfri’s lips, but his dark eyes look furious.
“Possibly,” he says sweetly.
Carian laughs, as if surprised and delighted. He tilts his head towards Gwydion. “For both of us?”
Dyfri stiffens ever so slightly. “If you make it worth my while.”
