Yet strangely, I’m loath to lose it. I want nothing more than to come back to these rooms this evening still wearing it. With Llywelyn safe and sound by my side.
Suddenly, Llywelyn speaks. “Prys saidhesends his regards.”
My stomach churns. Here it is. The subject we have been avoiding. The subject I never want to think about. Iestyn. He whose name should never be spoken, for so very many reasons.
Mutely, I finish tying off his laces.
“I thought he was gone, forever,” Llywelyn says softly. “But he is still pulling the strings. He is everywhere. There is no escape.”
I take a careful breath and try to calm my wildly beating heart. “I thought you loved him?”
Llywelyn’s eyes meet mine in the mirror. “I have learnt what true love is.”
Oh my poor heart. It’s done for now. It can’t possibly survive this. Nobody could.
A door slams and the sound of marching feet fill the air. I hear Tae hissing and then six guards march right into our bedchamber. They line up sharply by the door, creating a tunnel of intimidating men. I eye the spears and the leather armour warily. They look like they mean business. Hopefully, this is all merely ceremonial.
Llywelyn wilts. He seems to grow smaller. Docilely, he walks through the line of guards. They turn with a snap of their heels and march neatly beside him.
I hurry after them. As the unfriendly entourage reaches the entrance to Llywelyn’s rooms, he freezes suddenly.
“Wait!” he exclaims.
The guards all impatiently pause as one, but it doesn’t look like they are going to wait for long.
I can see Llywelyn’s panic, but I cannot decipher the cause. Then it clicks. His antlers. He is trying to manifest them.
I step up close to him. He is trembling with the effort of attempting to display his horns. I place my hands on his shoulders and turn him around to face me. I press my forehead against his.
“I love you,” I whisper softly.
Then I kiss him.
He kisses me back with hunger. Reluctantly, I pull away. Then I grin as I see his glorious antlers on proud display.
He takes a shuddering breath, flashes me a weak smile, and then turns around. He strides out with the guards and I fall in step behind him.
We parade through court and arrive far too soon at a packed throne room. The crowd parts to give Llywelyn and his guards a clear expanse of flagstones to stand in.
Llywelyn looks up at his oldest brother, sitting on the impressive throne, his consort by his side, and the other princes standing on a lower dais, framing the royal couple.
Three days ago, Llywelyn was standing on that dais while Selwyn’s betrothed was presented to court. It is shocking to think how much has changed in so short a time.
Llywelyn bows low to his brother. An expectant hush falls.
“To enable this trial to proceed, the accused’s resyn status is temporarily revoked,” Rhydian announces.
The crowd murmurs. Llywelyn bows his head in acknowledgement.
“Prince Llywelyn Y Mabinogi, you are accused of dishonourably killing Earl Prys Y Aydanogi. What is your defence?”
Llywelyn draws himself up to his full height. He tilts his chin up and stiffens his shoulders. My chest puffs out in pride. There’s my boy. Facing all these hostile glares and still standing tall.
“I was a resyn at the time of the presentation. Nobody should have seen anything.”
Scandalised gasps and murmurs fill the air. A smile teases at my lips. Clever boy. He wouldn’t tell me what his line of defence was going to be. Now I’ve heard it, I’m feeling the faintest flickering of hope. It is exactly the sort of twisting cunning the fey adore.
Rhydian frowns. “That is not an admissible line of defence.”
