Tae herds me away from Llywelyn’s bedroom. He manoeuvres me over to a blank wall while I helplessly comply. His hands glide in a pattern over the plaster and a door forms. I blink as my mind rejects what my eyes are telling it.
Tae opens the new door and shoves me inside. It is a small windowless room. Just big enough for a neatly made single bed. I’m being exiled. Kicked out. The fey equivalent of being told to sleep on the sofa.
Weakly, I stagger forward and sit on the bed. It is comfortable at least.
“He gets like this?” I ask Tae quickly before he can leave.
The little fairy nods, and a wave of relief washes over me. I’m so glad it is not another strange malady like his intense horniness was. That would indicate that someone had a very insidious hold on his mind.
The wall shakes as Llywelyn throws something against it. Tae cowers.
“Does he ever hurt you?” I blurt as my eyes fix on his tattered wing.
Tae’s green eyes fill with anger. He shakes his head vehemently, clearly outraged at the idea.
“Ever… use you?” I press. I have to know. If Llywelyn flies into rages, who knows what else he does.
Tae’s face scrunches up into the most intense look of disgust, affront, and insult that I have ever seen.
Oh lord, is that a weight off my mind. I feel lighter now, like I can breathe. I hadn’t realised that my dark assumption had been festering inside me.
Another smash slams against the wall. Tae darts out of my new room, and shuts the door. I quickly take the two steps to the plain wood and check I’m not locked in. The door opens smoothly. I shut it again and sit back down on the bed.
The walls are a faint, luminous blue. Just enough light to not be pitch black. Not that I need to see. There is nothing to look at.
Robotically, I lie down on the narrow bed. Every time I think I have a handle on Llywelyn, he surprises me and I’m proven wrong. He really is an unpredictable sonofabitch.
I really didn’t think he was the type to throw a strop like this.
I did think he hurt Tae.
And I am so very glad I’m wrong about that. Even though I now feel guilty for ever thinking that was true.
As for this sudden rage of his, I know tantrums can be a trauma response. I’m not disgusted. I’m surprised. And deeply concerned.
Oh god, am I?
I sit with the feeling for a few heartbeats. Yes. I am deeply concerned for Llywelyn. He is throwing things around, trashing his rooms, and I’m not riled or pissed off. I have no urge to retaliate. Instead, I’m worried. I want to go to him. I want to help. And this feeling has nothing to do with the mission.
I run a hand over my face. I knew my feelings for Llywelyn were complicated. I knew I longed to keep him safe and take him awayfrom the mess that is his life. But this is something far deeper, and it scares me.
I lift my head up. I haven’t heard anything smash for a few minutes. It has fallen quiet.
I get up and press my ear against the wall, pathetically grateful that while I have been kicked out, I’ve not been sent far and there is only a thin wall between us. He is not so very far away.
Faint sounds of sobbing reach me. My guts twist into a knot and my heart pounds against my ribcage as if trying to break free and reach Llywelyn.
For the first time in my life, I really don’t know what to do. I hate how powerless it is making me feel. I fix things, that is what I do. I find problems and I make them better. With ruthless efficiency.
But I can’t solve this. There is nothing I can do. Someone I care about is sobbing their heart out and my only option is to lie here in the dark and listen.
This is going to be the worst night of my life.
Chapter twenty-four
As soon as my eyes open, I jump out of bed. There is no natural light in here. No clock. But every part of me knows it is finally morning. And that I can no longer hear Llywelyn crying alone in his room.
I run out of the tiny bedroom, burst through the sitting room. Only to skid to a halt in the doorway of the breakfast room.
