He meets my glare coldly. Completely unmoved. I may as well be pulling faces at a gargoyle. What a little shit he is.
As I stare at him. Something about his presence itches at me. He is not like the other fey. Hefeelsdifferent. Seeing him stand next to Tristan, the difference is unmistakable. Tristan is flame. Dyfri is shadow.
Granny’s stories swirl through my mind. In her tales, there were two types of fey. Two courts. Night and day. Summer and winter. Dark and light.
“Are you Unseelie?” I ask.
He raises an eyebrow again, a mocking, condescending look, but something flashes in his dark eyes. Something that makes me shudder.
“It’s working,” he says to Tristan.
Oh my stars. It is working. I would never normally blurt shit like that. It is an inane question. But it was on my mind, so it spilled out of my mouth.How horrid.
And pointless. If I had used a brain cell, I would have known the answer. He can’t be Unseelie. He is Tristan’s brother.
“Where did you get the dagger from?” Tristan asks me.
Strange emo guy. Claimed he was a necromancer and a werewolf.
The words flow across my mind, but they stick in my throat. They won’t come out. It is the most peculiar sensation.
Dyfri gives me a suspicious look. “What is your name?”
My throat unlocks. “Oleander Evans, but everyone calls me Ollie. My mum only named me Oleander because she is a crazy hippy. I haven’t heard from her in years. As far as I know, she is living in a commune in Morocco. As for my sperm giver, not even my mother knows. It is like that film, Mamma Mia! But with more guys as the potential fathers, and they are all gross.”
Holy smokes. I don’t like this. I’m not chatty or forthcoming. I’ve never been an over-sharer. But now words are pouring freely from me.
“What do you think of Tristan’s cock?” asks Dyfri with a small smirk.
“Oh it is lovely!” I hear myself say. “I want to see it. It feels enormous, which is a bit terrifying and I’m worried about being able to take it, but I really want to try.”
Oh. My. God. I’m not sure I even knew I had all those filthy thoughts about Tristan’s cock, and now I have spilled them out into the world and my cheeks feel as if they are literally on fire.
Tristan looks absolutely delighted. He is positively glowing with glee. It is sickening.
Dyfri snorts in amusement. “The serum is working.”
Yeah. No shit Sherlock Holmes. The nerve of this little weasel.
“You had a fey dagger. It is how you broke through Tristan’s wards. Where did you find it?”
My mouth opens to tell him all about the guy approaching me in the alley, but once again the words stick. My throat freezes. I can’t make a sound.
Dyfri tilts his head. “He is under a geas. Whoever gave him the dagger is a powerful sorcerer. Maybe one of the dragon riders?”
Tristan sighs. “Alright. Thank you for helping, Dyfri.”
He moves forward and the world spins. Except it is not only because I am lightheaded. My prince has scooped me up into a bridal carry and is taking me somewhere.
“Oh I love it when you carry me!” I exclaim. “Being pressed against your manly chest is divine.”
Tristan chuckles as he walks and the vibrations from it tingle through me. I wriggle in delight and press myself closer. But his arms lower and he places me gently on the bed. The furs are soft but I’d much rather be in his arms.
I look up at him. “I really, really want you to kiss me.”
Oh bloody hell. I didn’t even know that until I said it. But I am quite right. It is a marvellous idea. When he kissed me by the bath, it was shocking, overwhelming, and very, very nice. I think at the time I thought I hated it, but I can’t remember why I ever believed that.
Tristan smiles softly, a fond look in his ruby eyes. “You are going to have a nap and sleep the serum off.”
