I try Tristan. He has no idea that all of this is for his sake. He is oblivious that his brother killed Prys to save him. But he does know that Llywelyn took a bullet for him. Surely the red-haired prince feels some loyalty? He gave Llywelyn his thanks. But now he is not even meeting my gaze. He is staring sternly out at the crowd, as if this was just another boring social function.
There is no point in looking at Rhydian. He doesn’t know all the things Llywelyn has done for him. He is utterly unaware that his younger brother has been keeping human agents from dethroning him. By distracting them. By inviting them into his home and into his bed.
An image flashes. I think it’s from the first time Llywelyn had a screaming nightmare. I can see his wide, terrified eyes. At the time, I dismissed the idea that he was scared of me.
I know better now. I was a dangerous stranger. An agent he needed to play. He had given me his body as part of the game. And then he had a terrible nightmare about his abuser, only to wake up in the dark with me looming over him.
He did all that for the man now sternly judging him.
I think I’m going to be sick.
If I thought for one minute that spewing all over the flagstones would help, I wouldn’t try to fight it. But it would probably only result in me being dragged out of the throne room, and that’s the last thing I want.
Rhydian lifts his hand, and the room falls deathly silent. I swallow and it sounds loud enough for everyone to hear.
“The killing was honourless.”
Nobody is surprised. Everyone is waiting with bated breath to hear the interesting part, Llywelyn’s punishment. Even the air has fallen still. Gravity thickens, as if it too has paused.
“The sentence for honourless killing is bound in our oldest laws.”
Rhydian pauses, and I could scream. Just get it over with, please. Do not prolong this agony. I cannot stand it.
“The sentence is execution.”
My knees forget how to hold me up. I stagger and one of the guards catches me. There is a roaring sound in my ears, drowning out everything else.
Execution. Rhydian said execution.
Through my haze, I can tell that Llywelyn is not surprised. Sad and defeated. Scared. But not shocked.
He knew.
He knew, and he didn’t tell me. He let me enjoy the last three days we had together. I spent them worried, of course I did. But nothing like I would have been if I had known the truth.
I cast a quick glance around the room, and it becomes clear. I was wrong before. They all knew. Everyone knew, apart from me. They weren’t waiting to learn Llywelyn’s fate. The bastards were simply keen to hear Rhydian say it out loud.
My cheeks are wet, and everything is blurry. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
Someone coughs aggressively. Dazedly, I see it is Ollie. He has his arms crossed over his chest and he is glaring at Jamie.
Jamie is bright pink. He slides off his throne and clears his throat.
“As queen, I bestow my benevolence and reduce the sentence to exile.”
The crowd goes wild. Angry and gleeful all at the same time. Bloodlust denied, but thirst for scandalous events fulfilled. The talk of this will sustain them for years to come, and they know it.
Jamie ducks his head and scurries back to his throne. Rhydian places his hand over his, on the arm of his throne, and I catch the pride. My watery eyes start to clear. My tiny, stubborn flame of hope reignites.
Anything, anything at all, is better than death.
“My queen has spoken,” declares Rhydian.
The air warms. It swirls. A glowing vortex of purple and red appears in front of my eyes. My mind screams in denial. It’s a portal. I’m looking at a portal. A gateway into another realm, the way the fey strolled onto Earth and conquered it.
It’s beautiful and magical and terrifying.
The two guards nearest Llywelyn grab his arms, his entire body stiffens, but he is no match for them. I step towards him, my arms lifting, but yet again I am too slow. The portal opened up byLlywelyn’s toes. The guards only have to shove him one step. And they do.
