Tristan’s ruby red eyes rake over me. “Humans. So strange, yet so endearing.”
“Well, I’m fine,” interrupts Mabon. “I’m camping with my pet and exploring the human world.”
As if on cue, a large lorry rumbles past on the motorway. Highlighting that this is not exactly a beauty spot.
“Your new secretary said you were off on a flowermoon.”
Mabon sniffs. “Yes. Precisely. You should have listened to Osian.”
Tristan says nothing. Then he sighs wearily. “Brother dearest, you have always been a terrible liar. You are probably the reason there are stories about the fey being unable to lie.”
Mabon straightens up in my lap. A gasp of outrage spills from him. He is acting as if his brother’s words are a great insult, and perhaps they are. It would not surprise me if the fey considered the ability to weave falsehoods an admirable skill.
Tristan holds up his hands again. “I will not pry. Your business is your own.”
A tense silence falls. The fire crackles. Neither brother moves. Darkness appears to creep closer to our camp.
Then Mabon huffs, sags back against me and crosses his arms over his chest.
Tristan grins and pokes the fire with a stick.
It seems as if a truce has been agreed.
Tristan looks at ease as he sits by our fire, and I can sense no malice in him. I’m pretty sure that his assertion that he is not going to pry is genuine. He is clearly intelligent enough to know that something is up, but he respects his brother enough to accept that Mabon would tell him if he needed to.
I like Mabon’s red-haired brother. It’s good that Mabon has some family that’s decent. He deserves no less.
“Dyfri is on the warpath. He is convinced that Carian has done something to you,” Tristan says conversationally.
I expect Mabon to sniff haughtily and say something derisive about the duke, but Mabon says nothing. And I realise that is a very wise move when you are terrible at lying. Carian has nothing to do with this. This is entirely my doing. But the duke is still a serious threat and Mabon can’t mock that without his perceptive brother catching on.
“You mustn’t tell anyone anything,” says Mabon. “But you may hint to Jamie and Dyfri that I am safe and well.”
Tristan tilts his head to the side. As if he is giving the matter serious consideration and weighing up the pros and cons.
“Little brother,” warns Mabon in a voice that scares the shit out of some primal prey part of my mind.
Oh my. I really do forget what Mabon is most of the time. It is startling to be reminded that he is far more than my beautiful, charismatic, and enchanting lover.
The red-haired fey sighs heavily. “As you wish.”
Then a wicked gleam lights up his eyes as he abruptly turns his attention to me. “May I play with your handsome pet?”
The fire blazes. It swells to double its size. The flame tips turn purple. My heart races frantically in alarm.
“Absolutely not!” snaps Mabon.
Tristan’s eyes are huge. Almost comically so. Oh my. The fire was Mabon? That power was his? I truly have forgotten that he is a powerful being from another realm. He has become simply Mabon to me. No more and no less. Special because of who he is as a person, not because he is fey.
A slow, devilish grin spreads across Tristan’s face. I have never seen a look like it. It is like pure delight, but in a somewhat sinister form. Genuine elation mixed with avarice and envy.
“Oh, Mabon!” he exclaims in a tone of great joy.
Mabon turns abruptly in my lap so his profile is to his brother. His arms are still around his chest and now he hunches over.
“Go away!” he mutters grumpily.
Tristan’s grin gets even larger as he stands. His eyes flash red in the firelight, and then suddenly he is a fox again. He lets out a jubilant yap and then disappears into the night.
