“You did,” I agree calmly. “He deserved it.”
Llywelyn breathes in deeply. “Sorry.”
My brow furrows. “What for?”
“Your overlords are going to be angry. I’ve got you into trouble.”
My lips curl up into a wry smile. My handler would love being called an overlord. It would make her day. I’d never hear the end of it.
“Everything will be fine,” I say. “We will figure it out.”
I hate lying to him, but he needs my reassurance. He needs me to be his rock.
Llywelyn sighs sadly and turns his attention back to the moon. I wish there was something I could do to cheer him up. Tomorrow is going to come soon enough, so spending these last few hours fretting is a waste of time.
I already fucked him vigorously earlier in the evening. If that didn’t tire and bliss him out enough to sleep through the night, I doubt a second go will do anything. Even though it will be fun to try.
I bite the inside of my mouth and use the pain to chase away my dirty thoughts. Not everything can be solved with sex. And he deserves more from me than that. I may be addicted to him, but I also love him. In ways that go far beyond sex.
I sit in silence for a moment while I try to come up with something. I like the idea of hot chocolate. It is what my mum used to make when I was feeling down.
But I don’t want to wake Tae up. And It is startling to realise I have no idea where the kitchens are. That lack of knowledge makes me feel like a big dependent baby. I can’t even make myself a drink.
I scowl, and then shake it off. I don’t even know if the fey have hot chocolate. There is no point in wandering around the palace in the middle of the night, trying to find out where Tae goes to make tea. I’m going to have to think of something else.
As my mind whirls, drawing blanks, Llywelyn pulls his knees up and hugs them, turning himself into a tiny ball.
“Everyone saw. Everyone heard the rumours he was spreading. Everyone watched him turn his back to me,” Llywelyn says quietly.
I breathe in. Maybe what Llywelyn needs from me is simply for me to listen. To be here for him.
“You can still tell the truth,” I suggest.
“That he was going to challenge my brother to a duel? That is honourable. There is no crime in that.”
My stomach twists. Cold seeps in. I’ve been doing a very good job of staying calm, of not allowing myself to freak out about the trial. But I think all my emotional defences are crumbling.
“What would have been his grounds for a duel?” I ask.
Llywelyn shrugs. “A challenge for Ollie would have done. Any excuse to get Tristan in the ring so he could kill him with no repercussions.”
My stomach churns some more. What if Llywelyn hadn’t stopped him? Tristan would be dead and Ollie would belong to Prys.
“I’m glad you killed him,” I say.
Llywelyn looks at me with doubt in his eyes. He thinks he acted rashly and fucked up. I think that he acted with heart and passion. And honestly, I don’t know how else he could have stopped Prys. There was no time to think of anything clever.
Once again, Llywelyn has put the needs of his family above his own. I’m damn fucking proud of him. I need to find a way of telling him this, in a way he believes.
“He was an asshole who deserved to die,” I try.
Llywelyn looks unconvinced.
I take a deep breath. “Fuck the mission. Fuck my overlords. I no longer give a shit about any of that. The only thing I care about is you.”
Something gleams in his eyes. A flicker of joy, but it is soon drowned in the sea of sadness. My words haven’t cheered him up at all.
“I’m facing trial tomorrow. I don’t know what is going to happen,” he says as he stares at me intensely.
