I’m choosing the Resistance.
Not because I hate Mabon. Because I feel the very opposite. And staying here means one of two things. Either watching Mabon play awful games with his enemies, or watching his enemies win.
Images flow through my mind. The duel I witnessed is replaying in vivid detail, except my imagination has helpfullyreplaced Osian with Mabon. The picture of Mabon being pushed down onto the floor in front of a ravenous crowd, sears into me. I wince and shake my head to clear it.
I wouldn’t be able to cope with that. Not in the slightest. I can’t even begin to fathom how that would be possible.
So the Resistance is my only option.
It’s not a choice. It’s a necessity.
My palms are sweating. Now that I have finally made my decision, everything has moved so fast. But there really is no point in lingering or dithering. Time is always of the essence.
I’m going to be sick, but I don’t think Mabon has noticed that anything is amiss. He is reading his tablet again. While eating a fruit I’ve never seen before. I sell fruit and veg for a living, so being faced with a fruit that has no right being on Earth should be unsettling. But I’m more distracted by the way the juices are running down Mabon’s chin.
“I want to see the gardens!” I blurt.
Mabon’s gaze flicks up from his tablet to look at me. His brows furrow delicately. The exotic fruit pauses halfway to his mouth.
“Why?”
My heart pounds. It is so loud, he has to be hearing it.
“I’ve always wanted to see the gardens at Buckingham Palace!” I say brightly.
Mabon frowns and turns his attention back to his tablet. “Boring.” He takes another bite of the peach-like thing.
Oh lord. What if everything comes to naught, because I cannot convince Mabon of this one simple thing? That would be such a disaster. I need to do this. I can do this. I’m not useless. Or all muscles and no brain, as Mabon calls me.
Right. Think, think. How do I get Mabon into the gardens?
I watch him intently. As if the sight of him can inspire me. He bites into the fruit again and then wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Somehow, the innocent gesture looks utterly sordid.
Suddenly, my spine goes ramrod straight. That’s it! I know how to do this.
“I…er…” I say in a less than illustrious start. “I’ve always wanted to do naughty stuff outside.”
Mabon’s full attention is on me now. I swallow. He smirks.
“Naughty stuff?” he teases.
“Yeah.” I nod.
His eyes sparkle. “Why didn’t you say?”
He flows to his feet and is yanking on my leash before my mind has caught up. I stagger after him as he strides out of the door. My hands grab the frame and I brace myself.
My leash goes taut and Mabon looks over his shoulder in annoyance. “What?”
“Can I have some clothes, please?”
He rolls his eyes but drops my leash. “Go put your trousers on, then. But be quick about it.”
I dart into the bedroom, locate my discarded leather trousers, and hastily hop into them. It’s a silly thing to worry about, walking naked through court, when so much is at stake. But I can’t help it.
I hurry back to Mabon and hand him my chain. He sniffs haughtily at me and marches quickly away.
We make it to the gardens without incident. I brace myself for the cold of winter’s chill, but nothing happens. I guess Mabon’s spell is still working.
