“Sorry I’m an only child,” I hear myself say. “I have a cousin who is pansexual like me. And you know, it’s very unlikely that Dad is going to win the next election.”
Oh Jesus save me. Shut me up. Please. Anybody.
Dyfri takes an elegant sip of his drink. “You think there is going to be another election? That’s cute.”
My swallow gets stuck halfway down my throat, resulting in the loudest gulping sound I have ever heard. Dyfri just continues to stare at me, politely pretending not to have heard it.
This close, I can see how flawless his pale skin is. I can see how his eyes are even darker than any photo shows, and that his waist-length hair is so black it has a faint sheen to it.
I can also see that his sharp cheekbones and black, curling horns are not a costume. He is gorgeous and deadly, and I’m already fucking everything up.
He sighs, and even that weary sound is musical and refined.
“We are both adults,” he says. “We both want what’s best. I’m sure we can make this work.”
I blink, and now I’m the one staring. That’s awfully forgiving and understanding of him. I didn’t think the fey were that kind.
Or maybe he really doesn’t care who he marries as long as it gets him access to 10 Downing Street and my dad.
All you need to do is be nice to him.
That’s what my dad said. I can do that. Can’t I? I mean, I’m nice to everyone. Of course I’m going to be nice to my husband. Especially since he is going to be living with humans and away from his people.
“At least you’ll just be down the road,” I say cheerily. “You can pop back to the palace anytime you like.”
Dyfri’s eyes dart around the room. He shudders slightly. So slightly that it is only because I’m so close that I see it at all. He lifts his glass to his lips. “That won’t be necessary.”
Suddenly, Prince Rhydian is right beside us. Glaring at me with fierce eyes. I quickly jerk into a clumsy bow.
Dyfri sinks down into a graceful curtsy and lowers his head.
“I’m ending this function early,” growls the Crown Prince.
“There is no need, Your Highness,” Dyfri says meekly, with his head still down.
The Crown Prince scowls, but strides away without deigning to share another word. Dyfri lifts his head and stares at his brother’s retreating back with a strange expression.
My stomach twists. I know this is a public setting, formal even though everyone is claiming it is not. But seeing Dyfri having to be so deferential to his own brother is rubbing me the wrong way.
“Is he always such an ass?”
The words echo around me. My lungs inhale sharply. Oh fuck, please don’t tell me I said that out loud?
I stare at Dyfri with open-mouthed horror. He smirks back at me, flashing a quick grin that lights up his eyes for a moment.
“Yes,” he says calmly. Then, he takes another sip of his drink.
My lungs do something strange as they struggle to remember how to work. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Shrugs Dyfri.
And now he is staring at me again. But this time he is allowing me to see things. Lowering his walls a little. And what I see makes my heart ache.
I was right that he doesn’t care who he marries. But I don’t think it is because he wants access to Downing Street.
I think he is desperate to get away from here.
Chapter two
