Murmurs of agreement rumble around the room. I’m going to be sick. Behind me, Tristan tenses and my leash shakes ever so slightly. I bite my bottom lip to curb my smile. It is so good to know that these assholes are pissing Tristan off too and it is not just me being sensitive.
“I can suck cock better than any rhocyn.”
My gaze snaps to the speaker. It is a young looking fey with curly dark hair and sapphire blue eyes.
“Prove it,” drawls an older man as he leans back arrogantly against his cushion.
The curly-haired guy flashes him a mischievous smile. “All right. I’ll make you spill before a ghurry is spent and you will owe me a forfeit.”
The older man raises an eyebrow and rests his hands on his plump belly. “And if you don’t make me spill?”
“You may use me for the night,” Curly-hair says with a truly filthy wink.
Everyone giggles. Kinky motherfuckers. I have a distinct feeling that Curly-hair here is going to lose on purpose. I should teach the fey about Grindr. It would make their lives a lot simpler.
The older guy spreads his legs wide and Curly-hair crawls between them. I snatch my gaze away before I can see anymore. Apparently, I am a prude and that’s a very disappointing thing to learn about myself.
Suddenly, Tristan leans forward and whispers in my ear. “Go get a wine jug and refill everyone’s cups. It is a good way to appear more like a true pet. Rumours that I am fond of you do not help us.”
My stomach has gone all fluttery. He is fond of me, I know he is. It is not a rumour. But it is something that only I need to know.
I get to my feet and make my way over to the drinks table. It is in the corner of the room. Far away from where everyone is sitting.
I pick up a large earthenware jug of wine. It is strangely light, but definitely full. It must be freaky magic. Shrugging, I hold it firmly and start making my way around the room. Everyone is engrossed in the show and barely noticing me.
The noises alone are making me blush. Part of me wants to look. I mean, there would be no harm in it. This show is consensual and everything. So I don’t think there is any moral reason not to. But for some reason, I just can’t bring myself to do it.
I make it halfway around the room when I run out of wine. Damn fey. They make it magically light, but can’t be bothered to make it magically bottomless? I really need to talk to some people around here.
Huffing quietly to myself, I make my way back to the drinks table. With good timing. Two red-hat dudes, like the ones who look after Selwyn’s rooms, are placing freshjugs on the table. One of them nudges the other as I approach.
The nudged one looks up at me and rolls his eyes. “Relax,” he says to his friend in Fey. This one doesn’t have a translator, everyone knows that.”
“Oh,” says his companion as he gives me a beady look before getting back to work.
I hold my empty jug and politely wait for them to finish restocking the table. I don’t care if they are being a little bit rude. Being a servant must suck. Like the worst ever customer service job. If they wanna bitch, they should go right ahead.
“So, Llywelyn really is going to cheat?”
I bite my tongue and concentrate on keeping my face utterly blank. My treacherous body is immediately breaking out in a cold sweat. Okay, this is a hell of a lot more interesting than a general bitch and moan about working conditions.
“Absolutely. He has been collecting charms. I see them under his bed every time I dust his room.”
“What kind of charms?”
They lift the last jug onto the table and start gathering up the empties that they have placed on the floor. Oh shit, they are about to leave. They can’t walk off before they have finished their conversation.
I smile and helpfully hand them my empty wine jug. It might slow them down a little. One of them takes it with a scowl.
“Devourer ones,” whispers the informative red-hat.
His friend whistles low. “Very sneaky.”
They both grin and start walking away. My heart is pounding. I stand very still and listen as carefully as I can.
“We should place bets on Llywelyn winning. We will make a fortune.”
A quiet, excited chuckle bubbles out. “Enough to leave this shit hole.” And then they are gone.
