“You and I are on the same side,” he says simply.
A tentative flicker of relief starts to burn within me. I might not need to call anyone. This might not be a disaster. Dyfri has given very plausible reasons why he would side with the Resistance.
It might not be insane to trust my husband.
“That’s wonderful news,” I say.
Dyfri hesitates, and for a moment I think he’s going to deflect with sarcasm. Instead, he looks down at his hands.
“There’s something you should know about me, Jack. Something you’re bound to discover eventually, and I’d rather you heard it from me. I don’t want to keep secrets and give you more reasons to mistrust me.”
The serious tone in his voice makes my stomach clench. “What is it?”
“I’m half-unseelie.”
The words hang in the air between us like a confession. I blink, trying to process what he’s just told me.
“Half...?”
“My mother was an unseelie princess. There was a temporary truce between the courts when I was conceived. A political marriage that lasted all of a year before she was sent back to her own people.” Dyfri’s voice is carefully controlled, but I can hear the pain underneath. “I was too young to remember her, but that doesn’t stop the court from forgetting what I am.”
The pieces start falling into place. The way other fey looked at him at the reception. Lady Morwenna’s particular brand of cruelty. The careful distance everyone maintained.
“That’s why they hate you,” I say, and it’s not a question.
“They fear me,” Dyfri corrects. “Unseelie blood is... unpredictable. Dangerous. I could be a spy, a sleeper agent, a weapon waiting to be activated. Or I could simply be what I appear to be, someone caught between two worlds who belongs fully to neither.”
“But you’ve lived at the Seelie Court your whole life. You’re loyal to...”
“They can’t be sure of that.” Dyfri’s smile is bitter.
“Are you? Loyal to them?” I ask suddenly. Impulsively and stupidly.
Dyfri fixes me with an intense look. “By blood, I’m a prince of the Unseelie Court too. My loyalty could lie with them.”
“Does it?”
A short, sharp, bitter laugh barks out into the air. “You are going to ask, just like that? And trust the answer?”
“Yes,” I breathe solemnly.
Dyfri blinks. “Why? You have no magic at all. You certainly cannot compel me.”
“I know you.”
He scoffs again. “Some exchanged blow jobs and hand jobs mean nothing.”
“You are my husband, and that means something,” I say.
Dyfri flinches as if my words struck him. “You are a very strange man, Jack Caxton.”
I shrug.
His eyes narrow. “I am loyal to the Seelie Court.”
“Okay.”
“Why do you believe me?” his dark eyes are blazing. “I’ve spent my entire existence being reminded that I’m not truly one of them. That my very existence is suspect. That I should be grateful for whatever scraps of acceptance they deign to throw my way.”
