Dyfri falls silent, but his eyes are blazing with something that looks like hurt and shame and defiance all tangled together.
“You weren’t a whore,” I say quietly. “You were someone in an impossible situation who did what you had to do to survive. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” His voice is bitter. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks remarkably similar.”
“Then you’re not looking hard enough.”
I take a step closer, and he doesn’t retreat.
“I don’t know what happened to you before we met,” I continue. “I don’t know what drove you to that point or how long you had to endure it. But I can tell it wasn’t your choice. And I know that the person who helped me save a political crisis this morning, who makes sarcastic comments about my snoring, who falls asleep in my arms... that person is not defined by the worst things that happened to him.”
Dyfri stares at me, something raw and vulnerable flickering across his features. “You don’t understand...”
“Then help me understand,” I say gently. “But not because you think I should be disgusted with you. Because I’ll never be. I’m furious that anyone ever made you do those things. I’m outraged that they have the nerve to mock you for it now. But disgusted with you? Never.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks. Dyfri’s eyes are bright with something that might be tears, quickly blinked away.
“You defended me,” he says finally, as if the concept is foreign to him.
“Of course I did.”
“No one’s ever...” He stops, shakes his head. “People don’t usually...”
“Stand up for you?” I finish gently. “Well, they should. You deserve better than people like Lady Morwenna.”
“Do I?” The question is barely a whisper.
“Yes,” I say firmly. “You deserve kindness. Respect. Someone who sees your worth instead of your past.”
Something breaks in his expression then, the careful mask crumbling to reveal the hurt, lonely person underneath.
“I don’t want to go back out there,” he admits. “Not tonight. They’ll all be talking about it, about you, about what you said...”
“Then we won’t go back,” I say simply. “Is there a way out of here that doesn’t involve walking through the main hall?”
He blinks at me. “You want to leave?”
“I want you to feel safe. If that means leaving, then we leave.”
“But the diplomatic implications...”
“Can be handled tomorrow. Tonight, I’m more concerned about my husband.”
For a long moment, he just stares at me. Then, so quietly I almost miss it, he says, “I am grateful.”
I want to reach for him, to offer some physical comfort, but I sense he’s not ready for that yet. Instead, I just nod.
“Can you get us out of here without anyone seeing?”
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “I may know a secret passage or two.”
“Of course you do.” Despite everything, I find myself smiling back. “Lead the way, husband.”
The smile that blooms across his face then is radiant, transforming his features completely. And as he takes my hand to show me the way, I realise something has fundamentally shifted between us.
Whatever we were before tonight, we’re something different now. Something stronger.
Something that might actually have a chance.
