His entire body has fallen utterly still. Like a deer spooked by something.
Blake gently takes his arm and guides him away. The prince stumbles along beside his pet, with none of the usual fey grace.
I watch them make their way across the lawn with an uneasy feeling in my gut.
“Is he okay?” I ask Dyfri.
Dyfri is staring after his brother. He is frowning, and his eyes look deeply troubled.
“No,” he says softly, without tearing his gaze away from Mabon’s distant back. “And I am going to find out who hurt him.”
Chapter twenty-nine
The art studio is lovely, but there is something about simply casually drawing while curled up on a settee. Especially with a fire crackling in the fireplace, and your husband sitting across from you reading a book. All while a puppy curls at your feet.
It is summer, so the fire is decadent. But old, large buildings are usually chilly all year round, and Buckingham Palace is certainly old and large. And besides, if a prince can’t be decadent, then who can?
I hum softly to myself as I work on the shading of Mabon’s horns. His confrontation earlier today was scary, but he looked magnificent. Hopefully, I can capture the righteous fury in his eyes. It was a striking look on such a feminine-looking man. So powerful and strong.
Before something changed, and everything came crashing down. With no clear reason why.
“Mabon was strange today,” I say.
Selwyn chuckles. “Mabon is always strange.”
I look up. Selwyn is still reading his book.
“Dyfri was worried,” I add.
Selwyn’s gaze meets mine, the book forgotten in his hand. “What happened?”
Oh no. Me and my big mouth. I should never have said anything out loud. What was I thinking?
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to gossip and tell tales!”
Selwyn gives me a soft, reassuring smile. “I like knowing what my brothers are up to.”
Warmth flows over me. I’m not in trouble. But I am a gossip.
“Dyfri and Mabon were bickering, and Dyfri told Mabon he wouldn’t understand because he is not a rhocyn, and Mabon went all funny. Like he had a turn. Blake had to take him away.”
Alarm flashes in Selwyn’s brown eyes, but then his expression turns thoughtful.
“Then Dyfri muttered something about revenge on whoever hurt Mabon,” I add.
Selwyn grins suddenly. “Mabon being dramatic and Dyfri being vengeful sounds perfectly normal to me.”
I suppose he does have a point. I don’t know Mabon very well, but every encounter I have had has been rather dramatic. As for Dyfri being vengeful, well, that fits.
“Shall we go to bed?” Selwyn says as he gets to his feet.
I blink in surprise, and then my cheeks start burning. Which is ridiculous because all we ever do at night is sleep. It is the mornings that are fun.
“Good idea,” I reply automatically.
It is ingrained in me to agree with my husband. And training aside, it is late, and I am tired. Nevermind that being tucked up in bed with Selwyn sounds lovely.
I put my sketchbook down and get to my feet too. Together, we walk to the bedchamber with Loki trotting behind us.
