“Dyfri had no idea what was being planned. Neither did any of our brothers.” He swallows audibly. “It was up to me. So I begged my lover to do something. But he said the king and queen were adamant. And so the only thing he could do was arrange for Dyfri to be made a rhocyn.”
Silence falls. Thick and heavy. Weighted with a thousand nameless things. I’m not even sure how to start untangling this. But there is one very important distinction that needs to be made.
“So, did you arrange it, or was it your lover?”
The word lover burns my tongue. But now really isn’t the time and place for that conversation.
Llywelyn drops his hand and fiddles with his robes. “I begged him to do something. He came up with the plan and found the candidate. I paid the bribe.”
I draw in a shuddering breath. There is an awful lot to process here.
“What happened to the …candidate?” Even in my dazed state, my need to gather information is still working. I’m going to need all the puzzle pieces before I can even begin to put this all together.
“He was murdered shortly after. Tied spread eagle and naked. His balls had been sliced off and he had been forced to chew them.” Llywelyn flashes me a quick glance, but then quickly looks away again. “The rumour is it was Rhydian. I think it is very likely, but I don’t know for sure.”
My fingers twitch. I need pen and paper so I can map this all out. No, scrub that. I need a full-sized whiteboard, markers and red thread and pins. This warrants a full on murder board.
I force my lungs to keep working. I need to focus. To think. To start with the basics.
“You really thought being made a rhocyn was better than being married?”
Llywelyn pales. “It was his uncle, and Dyfri was still a child. They were going to wait until his name day, but that is merely a formality. He was too young. And… and… my lover had spent time at the Unseelie Court and told me awful things.”
My heart thumps, low and loud. Could Llywelyn really have done this horrendous thing with the best of intentions? Or is that simply what I want to believe because the sex is good and I want to keep doing it”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Okay. So then what happened? The Unseelie King heard that Dyfri was now a rhocyn and didn’t want him anymore and the treaty talks dried up?”
Llywelyn draws his long legs up. He places his feet on the edge of the sofa and wraps his arms around his shins. Turning himself into a tiny, protected ball.
“He asked for me.”
He says it in such a small voice that I only just hear him.
“What!” I splutter, in sudden, unexpected outrage. “What happened?”
Llywelyn rests his head on his knees, burying his face. “He asked for a night, to be sure that I pleased him.”
My mouth has gone very, very dry. Somehow I prise my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “And?”
“I was still young, barely of age,” he whispers. “I had only ever been with my lover. I’d heard such terrible things about the King. And…and I was so scared he’d discover my omega traits.”
Silence again. Weighting everything down. So oppressive that it is hard to breathe. I wait and wait and finally Llywelyn continues.
“In the morning, he said I was too skittish, and he didn’t want me. Talks ended after that. As far as I know.”
Llywelyn hugs his legs even tighter. I don’t think I have ever seen anyone look so ashamed. My heart is pounding. It doesn’t like seeing Llywelyn like this. It wants me to comfort Llywelyn and tell him it wasn’t his fault. That he has simply been a piece in a chess game, moved around and used, with no true agency.
I force a swallow down my throat. Skittish. The word is burning through me. Along with images of the first two times I fucked the prince. The way he had lain so motionless, as if sex was something to endure and not something to enjoy.
Oh shit. I think I really am going to be sick.
What a fucking mess this all is. A tangled web of lies and uncertain motives. However, one thing is for sure, this Iestyn is a master player. An expert manipulator.
But what were his goals? To stop a peace treaty? He wouldn’t be the first who wanted that. There is money and power to be made from conflict. An awful lot of both.
On the other hand, another outcome is taunting me. Teasing and not letting go. Iestyn’s game resulted in two young boys being kept from the Unseelie King’s bed. But was that merely a side effect, or was it the goal?
I haul myself to my feet and blindly walk towards the drinks cabinet.
