“They were wolf shifters,” he says calmly, as if that fact is unremarkable.
I suck in a quick breath. “And they are native to Earth?”
“Yes.” Is all he says before turning his attention back to the window.
“Why didn’t you tell me this!” I snap.
Llywelyn shrugs and somehow manages to make the gesture look both refined and elegant. “It’s not my fault you do not honour your ancestors.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I splutter. What the hell is he talking about? What do ancestors have to do with anything?
The prince sighs as if he is the long suffering one. “Your ancestors left written records and oral stories about werewolves, vampires, kelpies, dragons. All sorts of paranormal beings. Yet you arrogantly dismissed your ancestors as being ignorant, uneducated and having overactive imaginations.”
I stare at the prince. I think I am genuinely lost for words. He is telling me that creatures from stories are just as real as the fey. And if that wasn’t enough, somehow this little twat is making it sound as if I am personally responsible for all of humanity’s shortcomings.
But before I can gather my thoughts, the door flings open and three fey males stride into the room. The tallest has moon pale hair and magnificent antlers. The one on the left has lilac hair done up very ornately and jet black horns that curl backwards. The one on the right has glossy nut-brown hair and brown horns that remind me of a goat’s.
Llywelyn flows to his feet and his hand quickly runs over his short golden hair and absent horns. For a brief moment, I feel a pang of misguided sympathy. But then I turn my attention back to where it needs to be, focusing on the potential threat. Or in this case, triple threats.
The unexpected visitors are far more striking in real life than their photos capture, but I can still identify them. The brown-haired man is Prince Selwyn, the one with purple hair is Prince Mabon, and the most imposing man is Prince Rhydian. The crown prince. The one I am going to help overthrow.
For all intents and purposes, he is a king. It is only out of respect for his mother and father who remain ruling in the fey lands that his title is crown prince.
However, standing here before him, it’s extremely apparent to every cell in my body, that this is a king in every sense of the word.
I force a swallow down my throat. I suddenly feel a lot more daunted by the task than I did before. This guy haspresence.It radiates off of him like an intimidating aura.
Llywelyn glares at his brothers and crosses his arms. “Should I be flattered by this private audience, or is it simply because you can’t be seen addressing a resyn in your throne room?”
Mabon, the purple-haired prince, rolls his amethyst eyes. “We need to talk to you because you have taken a human pet.”
Llywelyn lifts his chin. “So what if I have?”
“You killed your last pet!” exclaims Prince Mabon.
My gaze snaps to Llywelyn and my heart thuds against my ribcage. This is startling, terrifying and sickening news.
Llywelyn pales slightly. “That wasn’t me. The tylwyth died after I gave it away.”
A tense, disgruntled silence falls while Llywelyn’s brothers glare at him and he glares back. It is making my stomach squirm uncomfortably with all sorts of conflicting emotions. Three against one isn’t fair. It’s irking my sense of justice. But on the other hand, Llywelyn is a vile little twat who deserves the worst.
“Perhaps, Brother, giving any living being to thealltudid,was not wise,“ Selwyn says softly.
I hide my disorientated wince at the translator glitching and allowing the brown-haired prince’s true word to reach my mind. I’m going to deduce that the translator can’t cope with that particular word. I’m going to have to ask Llywelyn about it later.
Llywelyn bristles at his brother’s rebuke, but he says nothing.
It is Rhydian who speaks next. In a deep and rumbling voice. “We wish to win the humans over. Taking them as pets does not help win their trust.”
Llywelyn’s golden eyes flash. “Like you took Jamie?”
The frown that forms on the crown prince’s face would scare the crap out of me if it were directed my way. But Llywelyn meets it evenly. Without even a flinch. I have to respect that, begrudgingly.
“Dismiss your pet,” orders Rhydian.
Oh for fuck’s sake. I need to stay so I can spy. I look at Llywelyn. Hopefully he has an excuse up his sleeve.
He clicks his fingers at me and points at the door, dashing my hopes without even looking away from his brother. What a fucking pompous little asshole.
