His hands move and a portal opens up behind him. He steps backwards into it, and he disappears. Along with the portal. The graveyard is empty. It is just me and Tristan, and his brothers.
A shriek of pure joy and delight pours out of my lungs. It is the most sissy noise I have ever made and I have never cared less.
I whip back around to face Tristan. Thank fuck it worked. It is over. It is done. I can’t quite believe it. I bloody well did it. Little old me. I managed to convince anecromancer, and I stopped a frigging zombie versus fairy war. All by myself.
It is amazing. I’m going to gloat about this for eternity. Tristan is never going to hear the end of it.
But now, right now, I need to snog Tristan again. It is imperative.
Then, after that, it will be time for the rest of our lives.
I can’t wait. It is going to be wonderful.
Chapter forty
“Do you want to say that to my face, motherfucker?” I snarl.
The spring garden party falls silent. I wasn’t even that loud, for fuck’s sake, but now everyone is staring at me. It has gone so quiet that I can hear the birds singing.
The stupid fey woman I’m talking to is open jawed. Any minute now, her eyes are going to bug out.
A warm, firm hand rests on my shoulder. Tristan. He has run over from those idiots he was talking to and now he is standing behind me.
“My apologies, Lady Freyainogi. I mistakenly believed my vessel would not be ripe until this evening. It always makes him grumpy.”
What the hell? I bristle and start to turn around to yell at Tristan. How dare he not take my side? But before I can say a word, the world tips. The bright blue sky and the verdant green grass invert. My head is spinning.
This frigging asshole! He has picked me up and slung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes! The nerve of the bastard!
He starts to stride out of the gardens, back towards the palace.
“She said you let Llywelyn borrow me and that I prefer his cock to yours!” I snarl in protest.
“You do keep going to his rooms. It is bound to cause rumours,” says Tristan genially.
I squirm with indignation. “He never lets me in!”
He doesn’t. And I am never going to use Jamie’s status to invade the poor man’s privacy ever again. That doesn’t mean I don’t care. I don’t know what his deal with Silas is. I have no clue if the prince hates me or wanted to help me or doesn’t think of me at all. But he came to try to get me back.
That means something to me. It also means I want to know how he is doing. But apparently the only thing my efforts are achieving is filthy rumours.
“You can put me down now,” I grumble.
“No. You are still grumpy. I’m not putting you down until we reach our bed.”
Butterflies dance in my stomach. Okay, getting railed does sound a whole lot more fun than a boring garden party.
I lift my head up to see just how much drama I caused. Most people have turned their attention away, even though we are not quite out of view yet. However, there is one pair of dark eyes fixed on us.
“Dyfri is staring,” I hiss.
“Because you are causing a scene,” Tristan says calmly.
I huff loudly. I damn well told Tristan everything I saw and heard between Silas and Dyfri and Llywelyn. It is bloody infuriating that he doesn’t take it seriously. His brothers are up to no good. He should be doing somethingabout it.
I am fully aware that Dyfri tried to free me from Silas. Once by himself, and then again at Tristan’s side. I should be grateful. My mind should be at rest. Maybe I’m simply biased after the whole poisoning thing. Or perhaps Dyfri makes me suspicious because he is swanning around court, while Llywelyn never leaves his rooms.
Perhaps my guilt over Llywelyn is clouding my judgement? Who fucking knows. It is a mess, that’s for sure. But Dyfri does bloody well give me the creeps.
