I swallow. “I was raised for this, well not a fey prince. But a duke or earl, with magic. So, not this exactly. But close enough.”
Oh dear lord, I am waffling. And they are all still staring at me with utter skepticism.
“I’m not a normal human. I was raised with magic and knowing paranormal creatures are real. I’ve been trained my whole life to be someone’s consort. If the fey hadn't arrived, I would have been married on my eighteenth birthday. So, yes, I am young, but I’m ready.”
I’m not brave enough to look at anyone now. The silence is deafening.
“And Prince Selwyn is nice!” I blabber.
Murmurs ripple around the table. People resume moving again.
“Selwyn is nice,” agrees Jamie.
The others nod. Even Dyfri looks as if he reluctantly agrees.
Something coils deep in my guts. Selwyn really does have everyone fooled. How does he do it?
“So when is Rhydian marrying you off?” Ollie says to Dyfri.
The Prince snorts as he puts cream on his second scone. “Never.”
Oh. Is he bluffing, or does he really not know? Or maybe the rumours I heard were unfounded. Although a union with the Prime Minister’s son does sound strategic to me.
“Shame,” snipes Ollie. “You might have had to leave the palace.”
Dyfri narrows his eyes.
Jamie puts his cup down forcefully. The clink of porcelain rings out. Neither Ollie nor Dyfri turn to look at Jamie, but they both back down.
Jamie lets out a breath and pours more tea, refilling everyone's cups.
“Why though?” says Ollie. “Human alliances are clearly needed. And they won’t care about…” he trails off and gestures at Dyfri’s long hair.
Dyfri places his knife down on the table with great precision. Dark, cold, magic seeps into the air. Glittering and discordant. Like endless voices screaming in the void.
“Whoa! Sorry!” exclaims Ollie as he holds his hands up in surrender.
Dyfri glares at him as his magic slithers towards the pet, and Ollie grows paler and paler.
“Please don’t poison me,” whispers Ollie.
Blake and Jamie exchange confused glances. Oh, of course. They don’t have any magic. They have no idea what is going on. They only know that these two are staring at each other.
Dyfri huffs out a breath, shakes his head in weary exasperation and then relaxes back in his chair. His obsidian magic slinks back to him. The air clears and lightens. He picks up his scone, and everyone breathes again.
That was impressive. I’ve never felt magic like that before. Strangely, I’m far more intrigued than frightened. And actually, I’m a little less scared of Dyfri now. Someone who has that much power but doesn’t use it to take his brother’s throne, can’t be a bad person.
Jamie shoots me a pained, apologetic smile.
I smile back at him. He doesn’t need to apologise. He invited me to tea, and that is an amazing thing, all of itself. It has also gifted me with meeting some of my future family. The people at this table are all going to be my in-laws.
And I have discovered that they care. They may be crazy, and dangerous. But they are also clearly kindhearted.
There is a chance I might fit in. They might be able to tolerate me, since they are used to oddness. They are already trying to welcome me.
And that is more wonderful than words can say.
Chapter eight
