Dyfri steps towards me. I scramble off the bed and face him warily.
He holds out the vial to me.
I stare into his dark eyes. He isn’t offering any assurances. Or promises. Or platitudes. That makes me inclined to trust him.
I take the vial from him with slightly trembling fingers.
I unstopper it. The urge to smell it is strong, but pointless. I don’t have a clue what fey poisons smell like.
I take a deep breath. A painful death actually sounds slightly more appealing than a public consummation.
I gulp down the thick liquid. It tastes of nothing at all. I hand the vial back to Dyfri, who accepts it with a faint quirk of his eyebrow and something akin to respect in his eyes.
“Did you try to kill Prince Tristan?”
I blink. “I thought it was Prince Llywelyn who was shot?”
A strange look flashes through Dyfri’s dark eyes. “Llywelyn jumped in the way. Tristan was the target.”
“Oh,” I say. “Nobody ever tells me anything. About anything. Ever. But I know my mother was not involved in this plot. She worships the fey. She spent her life trying to open the portals so you could come back. She thought you would share power, and she wants to rule the world.”
My hand clamps over my mouth. But the words still come.
“But really I know nothing. About anything. I never even went to school. The only thing I was taught was how to be a vessel.”
“What does that involve?” asks Dyfri.
I take a breath, and a whole new stream of words begins tumbling out of me. “Being obedient, mostly. Submissive. Seen and not heard.”
The next words flash in my mind, I desperately try to swallow them down and not speak them, but it’s no good.
“I was taught how to assume different positions for my husband's pleasure. Different ways to lie still while my husband takes me.”
Dyfri’s brow furrows. “They taught you how to take cock? I thought you were supposed to be all pure and untouched?”
“I am!” I protest vehemently. “The training was done with dildos!”
Dyfri stares at me. His expression has gone utterly blank. “You are very young, aren’t you?”
I bristle. “I am an adult! I am nineteen!”
“And when do humans become adults?”
“Eighteen,” I mumble. “In most countries.”
Dyfri crosses his arms over his chest. There is a look of profound sadness in his eyes. Maybe he would have been the better choice of husband after all. He might be kinder than my first impressions thought. Maybe being unseelie is not so bad.
I squint and look at his pretty face. He is beautiful, whereas Selwyn is handsome. Dyfri’s long, loose raven-dark hair is stunning. He looks more like a vessel than a mage.
“Your hair is so pretty,” I coo.
Dyfri jolts. He steps forward and takes my arm and steers me back towards the bed.
“That’s enough truth serum. Time to sleep it off.”
“But it is pretty,” I pout as he tucks me into bed, even though I’m fully dressed. My shoes seem to have disappeared somewhere though, so that’s good.
Dyfri shakes his head wearily. “Do not comment on a rhocyn’s hair.”
