“Just the usual circus. Though I wanted to ask how things are going with...” He pauses, glancing around to make sure we’re not overheard. “How are you finding married life? I know it’s been an adjustment.”
The casual concern in his voice makes the guilt worse. Here’s my father, genuinely worried about my wellbeing, and I’m plotting the overthrow of the government he’s trying to hold together. Because while surrendering to the fey was the right thing to do, Dad’s government is now entwined with the fey court. Rebellion against one is rebellion against the other. No matter how much I hate that fact.
“Marriage... is good,” I say carefully. “Better than I expected, actually.”
“Really?” Dad looks relieved. “I was worried we’d thrown you into an impossible situation. Arranged marriages aren’t exactly a modern practice.”
“No, it’s... Dyfri’s not what I expected. He’s...” I search for words that won’t reveal too much. “He’s brilliant. Witty. We understand each other better than I thought we would.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.” Dad’s smile is genuine, warm. “I’ve been feeling rather guilty about the whole thing, to be honest. Asking you to marry a stranger for political reasons. It’s not exactly what I envisioned for your life.”
The guilt threatens to choke me. “Dad...”
“I know you didn’t have much choice in the matter,” he continues. “But seeing you these past few weeks, you seem... happier. More settled. I was hoping that meant things were working out.”
“They are,” I manage. “Really. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Good. That’s good.” He squeezes my shoulder as we reach the main staircase. “I know this hasn’t been easy for either of you. If there’s anything you need, anything at all...”
“I know. Thank you.”
As he heads off to his next meeting, I stand there watching him go, feeling like the worst son in history. He’s trying so hard to hold everything together, to make the best of an impossible situation. And here I am, planning to destroy everything he’s working toward.
But it’s the right thing to do. It has to be.
Doesn’t it?
Dad’s plan is acquiescence. Survival by not being a threat. Negotiating for scraps of power.
My plan risks more but gains everything. As Dyfri said, some goals are worth the sacrifice, and he’s right, isn’t he?
By the time I make it back to our flat, the guilt has settled into a familiar ache in my chest. I’m still wrestling with it when I find Dyfri in the living room, looking perfectly composed in a way that suggests he’s about to deliver news I won’t like.
“Good,” he says when he sees me. “You’re back. We’ve been invited to tea.”
“Tea?” I blink at him. “With whom?”
“My brother. Crown Prince Rhydian has requested our presence at court this afternoon.”
My blood runs cold. “He’s requested... why?”
“Ostensibly to welcome you properly to the family.” Dyfri’s smile is sharp. “Though I suspect he simply wants to assess whether you’re a threat.”
“Am I? A threat, I mean?”
“Absolutely.” Dyfri stands with fluid grace. “But he doesn’t need to know that.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re stepping through a portal directly into what can only be described as the most intimidating receiving room in existence. Everything is white marble and soaring ceilings, with windows that look out onto impossible gardens where the flowers seem to glow with their own light.
Two people are waiting for us.
Crown Prince Rhydian always strikes me as being exactly what anyone would expect from a fey ruler and somehow worse. He’s tall, probably six and a half feet, with the sort of pale beauty that belongs on classical sculptures.His hair falls in pale braids and twists past his shoulders, and the antlers rising from his temples are magnificent and terrible, like a crown made of winter branches. When those amber eyes fix on me, I feel like an insect being examined by something infinitely more powerful.
The man beside him is... not what I expected at all. I saw him very briefly at the wedding, but I had other things on my mind that day, and I clearly didn’t register him fully.
He’s small, barely five foot five, with dark brown hair and warm hazel eyes. He’s pretty in a completely human way, but wears fey robes as if he was born in them. When he sees us, his face lights up with genuine pleasure.
“Dyfri!” he exclaims, bouncing slightly on his feet. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much. How are you? Are you well? Are you happy? Is married life treating you kindly?”
