“No he doesn’t,” Dyfri says quietly. “It wasn’t his fault, and he’s already banished his mother for it.”
Mabon clicks his tongue, but he doesn’t argue. He ties off the second braid he has woven into my husband’s hair, right next to the wedding one I gave him. Then he shrieks again.
“Oh! I can do all your victories! You have so many! You aren’t going to have any hair left free at all!”
Dyfri laughs. A real laugh. Full of joy and happiness and glee. It makes my chest hurt and it causes something to twist deep inside me. I want to make him laugh like that. But all I do is make him scared. Even though I have caused far less harm to him than this purple-haired idiot has.
“But first, let’s go get your others! You can see how smooth the door Selwyn made me is!”
Mabon grabs Dyfri’s hand and pulls him to his feet. He yanks him over to the wall by the window. And then right through it.
I blink. But my eyes still tell me the same thing. My husband and his brother just walked right through a solid wall and disappeared.
I sigh and pick up a discarded cake. What does it say about my life that watching people walk through walls isn’t even the strangest thing that has happened to me lately? It barely even registers.
As for that conversation? They were speaking English, but I didn’t understand a word. And I don’t have a clue why Mabon was braiding my husband’s hair. I clearly have an awful lot to learn about fey culture.
I take a bite of the cake. It’s delicious. A riot of exquisite flavours are exploding over my tongue. It is amazing, but it does nothing to quell my growing unease.
Mabon just dragged Dyfri back to the fey court. I understood that much at least. The same fey court where people proved to Dyfri that they would hurt him over and over again.
Is he safe? Will Mabon be of any use in keeping him from harm? Are my conclusions even correct? Do I know anything at all?
I sigh and think about the large stack of briefing notes I was given about fey culture. The ones I didn’t read because I assumed they’d be too difficult to understand.
But now I know I need to start somewhere. And at least I have something to do while waiting to see if my husband ever comes back.
Chapter seven
It’s very late, but I can’t go to sleep. What’s Dad going to say when I tell him I’ve lost my husband? My very-essential-for-diplomatic-reasons husband?
I probably should have alerted security the moment he walked through a wall and disappeared. Especially since things aren’t right between us since our explosive argument.
Oh my god. This is terrible. I’ve messed everything up. Dyfri has gone home, told the fey that the humans are stupid and that we should be wiped off the face of the Earth.
And here I am, sitting in bed, reading notes on fey culture as if homework is going to save the human race.
Suddenly, a soft noise in the living room catches my attention. Is that Dyfri? Or some staff member who is about to discover that the fey prince is missing and I haven’t told anyone?
The bedroom door opens, and Dyfri strides in. He looks amazing. He’s back in fey robes, but it is his night-dark hair that is striking. It is tied back from his face in a dizzying array of twists, braids and plaits. Extremely fancy in that wayfey are fond of.
It really suits him. I don’t understand the science behind why people look different with their hair up or down, but by god can I see the effect. He looks magnificent.
He is holding himself differently too. There is a set to his shoulders that wasn’t there before. A tilt of his chin. I think it might be confidence. Or pride. Whatever it is, it looks damn good on him.
He is every inch the imposing, formidable and deadly fey prince. Beautiful and terrifying.
And completely unharmed from his visit to the fey court. I have been fretting for nothing.
“You read?” he says.
My fingers tighten on the sheath of papers in my hand. “Yeah. I thought it would be a good idea to research fey culture.”
Dyfri lifts one dark eyebrow.
I swallow quickly. “I mean, I read some before we were married, of course I did. But you know, one can’t ever know too much.”
Dyfri steps further into our bedroom. The door swings shut behind him.
