My heart does something ridiculous at the sight. This is what trust looks like. This is Dyfri feeling safe enough to be imperfect around me.
“Good morning,” I say, grinning at him. “Sleep well?”
He nods, still looking half-asleep, moving with that languid grace that somehow makes even his sleepy shuffle look elegant. But then his gaze focuses on my breakfast, and something shifts in his expression. A flash of alarm that cuts through his drowsiness like a knife, his eyes going wide and alert in a way that immediately puts me on edge.
The change is so sudden, so jarring, that my stomach drops before I even understand what’s happening.
Before I can ask what’s wrong, he lunges forward and snatches the plate away from me with a speed that seems impossible for someone who was half-asleep moments ago.
“Dyfri, what the bloody hell...”
“Don’t eat any more of that.” His voice is sharp with panic, all traces of sleepiness gone. He’s staring at the foodwith an expression of guilt and horror that makes my stomach drop.
“What’s wrong with it?”
He sets the plate down carefully on the far counter, as if it might explode if handled roughly, then turns to face me. The transformation is complete now. Gone is the sleepy, unguarded man who’d appeared in the doorway. In his place is someone who looks utterly devastated.
The look on his face is crushing me completely. Guilt and shame and such deep sadness that it makes my chest ache. He’s wrapped his arms around himself, a protective gesture that makes him look younger and more fragile than I’ve ever seen him.
“Everything from the main kitchen is poisoned,” he says quietly.
The words hit me like a physical blow. For a moment I can’t process them, can’t make them make sense in the context of what was supposed to be our peaceful morning.
“Poisoned?”
“It’s why I made you show me the main kitchen on our first day.” His voice is barely above a whisper now, and his hands are trembling slightly. “I’m so sorry, Jack. I’m so very sorry.”
My mind races back to that first day, trying to reframe the memory. I’d thought he was being considerate, showing interest in the domestic arrangements. I’d been charmed by his curiosity about the staff and the kitchens. But he’d been checking on his own poisoning operation. Or setting one up.
“Is that why you didn’t want to eat the food?” I blurt out.
Dyfri shakes his head. “I have the antidote.”
“But...” I’m struggling to process this, to reconcile the man I’ve come to love with the idea of deliberate poisoning.
“It’s only a mild poison. Something to make everyone more amenable, less likely to be hostile.” He looks at me with such broken desperation that it tears something apart in my chest. “So you would all hate me a little less.”
The raw pain in his voice destroys me. The hopeless longing, the desperate need for acceptance, the fear that drove him to such measures. I can see it all now, the careful political calculation twisted by trauma and desperation into something that must have felt like survival.
Without thinking, I stand and pull him into my arms, holding him tight against my chest. He’s shaking properly now, fine tremors running through his entire body.
“Oh, Love,” I murmur into his hair. “I understand. I do. You were just trying to protect yourself.”
He melts into the embrace, all the tension leaving his body as if my acceptance has cut the strings holding him upright. “I’ll stop,” he whispers against my shoulder. “I promise I’ll stop. No more poisoning anyone.”
“I know you will.” I hold him tighter, trying to pour all my understanding and forgiveness into the gesture.
He winces slightly, and I immediately loosen my grip, alarmed.
“Did I hurt you last night?” The question comes out sharper than I intended, panic flooding through me at the thought that I might have been too rough, too eager. “I’m so sorry, I should have been more careful...”
Dyfri chuckles, a sound that’s both amused and fond, “No, not at all. But the wedding morrow healers would bevery pleased.”
I go completely still. The words don’t make sense at first, bouncing around in my head without connecting to anything I understand.
“Wedding morrow healers?”
He stiffens in my arms, and I feel the exact moment when he realises what he’s said. His entire body goes rigid, and he steps back with a sigh that sounds utterly defeated.
