I hum to myself as I cut into the brie type soft cheese that I want to try more of. As I slide the slice onto my plate, I glance up and yelp.
There is a strange fey standing right next to the lunch table. And he doesn’t look at all happy to see me. His arms are crossed over his chest and his expression is thoroughly scornful.
His silk robes are all shades of black and grey, with splashes of blood red trimming here and there. His hair is magnificent. Raven dark. Thick and glossy and falling loose and free all the way to his slender waist. His eyes are midnight black. Skin as pale as pearl. His nose, chin,jawline and cheekbones are all perfect. He is utterly gorgeous. Beautiful. Ethereal.
My stomach twists uncomfortably and my throat tightens. Is he one of Tristan’s lovers? Is that why he is glaring at me? Oh my stars, I’m going to be sick. There is no way I could ever hope to compete with him. I’ve always loved Dolly Partan’s song, Jolene. Now I can really relate to it. I can feel the sentiment in my bones, and it is an awful feeling.
Tristan strides into the room and his face lights up.
“Brother!” he exclaims happily.
Oh thank heavens. I don’t think I’ve ever been more relieved in my entire life. I’m pretty much trembling with it. This is another one of Tristan’s brothers. Fabulous news for me, but it clearly means, unlike Tristan, the king and queen did not have enough work to do. They had to have been doing nothing but lounging around and making babies, for years. And years.
“I am not a pet trainer,” snaps this new brother, in Fey.
Tristan merely smiles warmly. “I don’t want you to train him. Where is the fun in that?”
The dark-haired fey narrows his eyes. After a few moments, he seems satisfied. “I’m busy. Stop sending for me,” he says as he pulls a vial of green liquid out of his robes.
“What…” Tristan starts to ask, but he is interrupted.
“Truth serum,” snips his brother.
Tristan’s eyes widen, almost comically so. “How did you…”
Once again, he is interrupted.
“If you don’t want me to train him, then this is the only other reason you’d send for me.”
Tristan recoils as if slapped. A strange look flows over his face. It takes me a moment to decipher it. It’s sadness. I’ve never seen the jolly bastard sad before. I’m not sure that I like it.
“Dyfri, I invite you to things,” Tristan says softly.
His brother raises one dark eyebrow and manages to look even more unimpressed than he was a moment ago.
Tristan starts babbling. “Yesterday was merely for the gossips and fishwives. I wanted news of my pet to spread everywhere. It wasn’t a fun gathering. Osian ended up here, and they said vile things about him.”
Dyfri gives a mocking little gasp and clutches his hand to his chest dramatically. “Oh no! I couldn’t have coped with that, because no one has ever said anything mean to me before.”
I almost want to applaud. I have never heard such sarcasm in my life. His words are dripping with so much scorn, I’m surprised there isn’t goo splatting on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” says Tristan meekly.
Wow. He is capable of apologies. That’s good to note. It is definitely a redeeming feature and potentially something to look forward to forcing from him.
Dyfri rolls his eyes. “Just dose him and get on with it.”
Tristan takes the vial and steps towards me. I start to scramble back and then freeze. Shit. I’m not supposed to have understood a word of their conversation. I’m not supposed to know that it is a truth serum.
But, he is prowling towards me with a tiny glass bottle filled with slightly glowing green gloop. So I think trying to escape is not going to give the game away.
I make a run for it, but Tristan catches me easily. He grabs my arm, pulls me close, squishes my cheeks together to force my mouth open, and pours the minty liquid in.
He releases me, and I cough and splutter. Holy smokes! How is he so fast? And so strong? How the fuck did he do that to me so quickly? I didn’t even have time to fight or even struggle. It is outrageous.
I’m wheezing and hyperventilating and clutching at my neck, but it is slowly becoming apparent that my throat is not burning and nothing terrible is happening. In fact, I don’t think anything at all is happening.
Sheepishly, I stop my dramatics and glare at Dyfri. What kind of trick is this? What is he playing at?
