Chapter 11

Iwake up slowly. Sunlight is escaping around the shut curtains. That's strange. Every day I have been here, I've been woken up by servants flinging them open and blinding me.

The bed is still empty too. Rhydian stayed away all night. Where did he sleep? I know it's a palace and has no shortage of bedrooms, but surely a prince surrendering his bed to a pet is strange?

I pull myself up into a sitting position. My pretty clothes are all rumpled. My body feels sore, but more from the crying than the actual spanking.

Oh, actually, I want to see the damage.

I slide off the bed and make my way to the large mirror. Twisting around and lifting my robes up is awkward, but finally I get a good view of my naked ass. I stare at it in the mirror. It is dark and shadowy in here, which may be hiding some things, but my ass looks fine. If I peer intently, I can see some very faint red marks. And one slight bruise.

I let my robes fall back down. Fucking hell, I'm such a baby. I completely lost my shit and there is barely a mark on me.

Sighing, I rub my hands over my face. I should tell my mum that I am okay. Though, I could tell that she came to that conclusion last night. She knew it was emotionally I was falling apart and that physically I was probably fine.

I'll leave it. Talking to her was lovely and exactly what I needed. But I'm not sure either of us are strong enough to go through it again. She's deeply worried about me, of course she is. And I hate that she had to put that aside to be reassuring and strong for me. I'm not putting her through that again.

Last night, I didn't say one word about my father. I asked no questions. I didn't confront her because it did not seem at all important or relevant. She didn't mention it either, even though she has probably figured out why I was taken. It's another reason not to call her back. I think I would bring it up now, in the cold light of day, and it is far bigger a conversation than I feel able to deal with right now.

I retrieve the phone from the bed, slip it into my robes, and pad softly out of the bedroom. The sitting room is flooded with bright sunlight and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust. When they do, I see Rhydian sitting at the table by the window. He is reading a newspaper and I can't see his face.

The table is set with an abundance of bread, cold meats and a selection of cheeses. My stomach rumbles. I frigging love cheese. My feet step towards the table. I guess this is lunch. They really did let me sleep in.

As I approach the table, Rhydian stiffens. A brief, fleeting movement, but I see it. I pull out my chair. There is a plump red cushion on it. How very thoughtful. Gingerly, I sit down. My ass twinges, but it is not too bad.

I start helping myself to several different cheeses. Is Rhydian going to talk to me? Or are we going to ignore each other like an old married couple?

The silence stretches. I sigh. Old married couple it is then.

I take the phone out of my robes, place it on the white tablecloth and slide it across to Rhydian. I'm not so stupid that I think I'm going to get to keep it. Last night was a one time deal.

Rhydian reaches out with one hand, pulls the phone closer to him and tucks it into his robes. All without lowering the newspaper or saying a word.

"Can I go see Dyfri?" I ask.

I can sense Rhydian bristle, but all he says is, "Yes."

A few minutes later, he puts his paper down and strides away. I sigh and finish my lunch. Pinky appears and gives me my usual bath. Then she takes me to Dyfri's rooms.

I blink at the sight of him curled up on one of his settees smoking what looks like a hookah pipe of all things. Mabon is sitting across from him on another overly ornate settee, puffing on another long cord that extends from the bubbling, oddly shaped glass vase that is set on the floor between them.

Dyfri is immaculately dressed. His long dark hair is smooth and gleaming. He looks well. A tentative relief starts to flicker to life within me.

"Come sit," says Mabon as he pats the space beside him. His amethyst eyes are half-lidded.

"I'd rather stand," I say, with a slight wince.

Mabon giggles, flashing pointed teeth. "Oh like that, is it?"

My face heats. "No, it's not. He spanked me, actually."

"So it is like that?" laughs Mabon.

I glare at him and turn my attention to Dyfri. "I'm…I'm sorry about what happened. I tried to get Rhydian to help, but he wouldn't listen."

Dyfri lifts his head up from resting back on the settee. "That's what you got spanked for?"

I nod.

Something flashes in his dark eyes. I see surprise and bewilderment and other, far softer feelings, and then his face is carefully blank again. These fey really hate showing their emotions.

"Do you need ointment?" he asks. But I'm fairly certain he is really saying thank you for trying to help and sorry you got hurt.

I shake my head.

"Then you are well enough to sit."

Fine. I carefully lower myself onto the settee next to him and manage to do so with only a faint grimace.

Dyfri takes another puff of the hookah and the water bubbles loudly.

"Are you alright?" I whisper. I don't want Mabon to hear.

Dark eyes flash at me again. A faint blush of colour tinges his pale cheeks and he nods sharply before looking away.

I guess that will have to do. He is not exactly going to pour his heart out to me. He barely knows me and fey seem to be the exact opposite of touchy feely types.

If Dyfri is saying he is okay, I'm going to have to take him at his word. He does seem fine. He is definitely one tough cookie, and I guess last night is what he is used to. As heartbreaking as that is. There is nothing more I can do. At least, not yet.

My musing is interrupted by another fey striding in. His antlers curl back like Mabon's, but not as tightly. His hair is blood red and in two thick braids that fall down to his waist. His cat slitted eyes are ruby bright but his expression is unthreatening.

I'm pretty sure he is another one of the brothers. A prince who was at the family lunch on my first day here.

"Oh, is this Graham Grantham's son?" he says brightly.

"Yes," answers Mabon with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if the subject is boring and uninteresting.

The newcomer grins at me, sits down next to Mabon and picks up a spare hookah pipe. These fey princes are so darn confusing. They say I am a pet but they seem happy to talk to me and have me sit with them. Hang out with them even. I thought Dyfri was nice because as a rhocyn he could sympathise with my plight as a pet. But now, I have no idea what is going on.

Perhaps they do truly see me as a cat or a dog. One that is allowed on the furniture. Something they are happy to have around. An animal, not a servant, slave or prisoner. A thing that is cute and unthreatening.

That actually makes a whole heap of sense. And it is very depressing. But useful. Being underestimated can be extremely useful. I'm sure of it. At least, that's always what they say in books and movies.

The princes make idle small talk and continue to smoke. No one offers me a pipe, which is fantastic. Who knows what is in it or what it would do to humans. This way I don't have to be rude and decline.

I listen to their conversation, but the only useful thing I learn is that the red-haired prince is called Tristan. It doesn't seem like the princes are going to chat about anything important.

"I should get back," I say suddenly. It has just occurred to me that I asked Rhydian if I could see Dyfri, not spend all day here. And if I'm not going to learn anything useful, there is no point in having Rhydian pissed off at me again.

"I'll walk you back," says Tristan as he flows to his feet. "I need to get going too."

I look at Dyfri. Is this a good idea? Is it even allowed? Dyfri nods.

"Thank you," I say to Tristan.

He grins at me, loops my arm into the crook of his elbow and leads me away.

"Bye!" I call over my shoulder, but I think Mabon and Dyfri are too lost in their hookah to even notice that I'm gone.

Strolling through the palace arm in arm with someone feels damn strange. But it feels safe. We pass a handful of people and they all bow and curtsy. Their very demeanour is completely different to how people behave around Dyfri. I wonder why he offered to walk me at all? He would have been far safer staying in his own rooms. A fact I know I will feel guilty about forever.

Is he treated poorly purely because he is a rhocyn, or because his mum was an Unseelie, whatever that is?

"Tristan, what is an Unseelie?" Might as well make use of a seemingly friendly face.

The red-haired prince blinks at me. Oops, my question is a bit random and out of the blue.

"This is a Seelie Court, think of it as light elves from your stories. We are summer and daylight. The Unseelie Court are our enemies and counterpoints. Winter and night. Dark elves, if you like."

I stare at Tristan in open-mouthed horror. These guys are supposed to be the good guys? That does not compute at all and is quite frankly a horrifying thought. My mind balks at it and shies away from it. I wish I had never asked.

Tristan and I reach Rhydian's rooms with no incidents. He pushes the doors open for me, and as I turn to thank him, he lifts my hand to his mouth and brushes his lips over my knuckles.

What the hell? Is he flirting with me? Taking the piss? I don't remember this from my etiquette lessons, but that doesn't mean a thing, except that my memory is awful, and damn it, now I'm blushing.

Tristan grins at me with a wicked gleam in his scarlet eyes. "It was a pleasure."

"Thank you," I stammer. Okay, I think he is just a player. But surely Rhydian will not be impressed?

Tristan walks away whistling, and I shut the door. Phew! Despite everything, I feel far safer in here than anywhere else in the palace and I have no idea what to make of that.

A quick glance around shows me that the rooms are empty. A wave of disappointment washes over me. It has to be at the prospect of being bored. Nothing else makes any sense.

My gaze falls on a piece of furniture I don't recognise. Is it new? I drift over to it. It is a large oak bookcase, and all the books are in English. The top shelf is stuffed with classics. Moby Dick. Catcher in the Rye. Pride and Prejudice. The middle shelf has Stephen King and Joe Abercombie. I see some Brandon Sanderson. The lower shelves are all romance books.

I run my fingers over them as if I can't believe what I am seeing. Rhydian let me call my mum. He left me alone all night. He allowed me to sleep in. He gave me a cushion to sit on and gave his permission for me to visit Dyfri. And now, he has given me a whole bookcase of books. Because I said I hate being bored. I can see how a tablet or television would be out of the question, too much contact with the outside world. But books cannot do any harm.

I chuckle and pick up a Sarah J Maas book. "Alright, you moody bastard. Apology accepted."