Then, on top of all that, what the hell did Dyfri mean by ‘you can’t use any of this’?
Tristan picks up my hand and stares into my eyes. “Someone facing a duel cannot receive any assistance from anyone.”
I stare at him blankly. My mind stutters. It freezes. It bulks. It restarts. I cannot think of anything else Tristan might mean, but his implication is absurd.
“Are you saying you are going to ignore the stuff about the charms, because I helped you by telling you?”
He nods solemnly.
“But…but why get Dyfri to go nick one, then?”
“Because I was hoping to find something I could somehow use. The laws fey are beholden to are twisty. There are loopholes.”
“Loopholes?” I repeat numbly. Then I shake my head in an effort to rouse myself. “Is that why you and Dyfri were talking all weird like that, so he wasn’t technically helping you?”
“Yes.”
For fuck’s sake, this is ridiculous.
“Is Llywelyn going to win the duel?” I squeak.
Tristan slowly nods. “If he uses the charms, yes.”
My heart erupts into an erratic, frantic rhythm. My vision is swimming and my head is spinning. This cannot be happening.
“That is the most stupid thing I have ever heard!” I yell. “He is flipping cheating! You should cheat back! I’d say a cheat equals a cheat!”
Tristan just sits there holding my hand, looking sad. But I do see a thoughtful look flash in his eyes before it vanishes.
Oh god. He is not going to buy my, all is fair in love and war philosophy, is he?. He is going to be all noble and stupid and not lower himself to cheating just because his brother is.
Suddenly, I’m on Tristan’s lap, pounding my fists against his ridiculously firm chest.
“You stupid bastard! You can’t die because you are pig-headed about some medieval ideas about honour! You fucking motherfucker!”
Oh fuck me. Now I am crying. Can this day get any worse?
Tristan’s arms wrap around me and now I’m smooshed against the chest I was just hitting. I suck in a breath and get a lungful of his delicious manly scent, which just makes me cry even harder.
This is such a load of bollocks. I’m crying. He is holding me. It is becoming too much of a habit.
One that I don’t ever want to end.
Chapter thirty-four
I’m going to be sick. Any minute now, I’m going to spew everywhere. The duel is in an hour, at moonrise, and I have no idea if Tristan is going to be a stupid ass or not.
Right now he is sitting in front of the dresser, staring at his reflection and faffing with his hair as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
While I’m standing here, a complete bag of nerves. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. Though, to be fair, part of that was because Tristan rolled me over in the middle of the night and fucked me senseless. It felt very primal. Like he was marking his territory. It was wonderful.
But now it is daytime, and my ass is sore. And…okay, I’ll be honest, I frigging love that my ass is sore. It means I can still feel him. I just have to stop myself from thinking about how it might be the last time I feel like this.
Suddenly, the bedchamber door opens and Mabon lets himself in. He ignores me and strides up to his brother. He snatches the comb out of Tristan’s fingers and takes over braiding Tristan’s flame red hair.
Tristan’s shoulders relax, and he sits calmly while Mabon works. It is nice to watch. They are clearlycomfortable in each other’s company and it is making me wonder if I missed out by not having any siblings.
“Please don’t banish Loo-loo. He is our baby brother,” Mabon says softly.
