Chapter 28

It's early morning and Rhydian is curled up behind me. Pressed in close. His arm is slung over my waist. We kissed and cuddled all night and now he is still here. But there is no time to bask in that, because Pinky is going to be coming in any minute. I wriggle over. I need to check if Rhydian is presentable.

His hair is all over the place, and there are dark circles under his eyes. And something is missing.

"Your antlers!" I gasp.

Did Iestyn cut them off as trophies last night and I've only just noticed? This is awful!

Rhydian's eyes open. Their amber depths are clear and focused. He lifts his hand and brushes some of his hair aside, revealing the nub of an antler. It doesn't look cut.

"They are retractable?" I ask.

His brow furrows. "That's not the word I would use."

Damn these translators. I wonder how hard it is to learn fey and if I can make anyone teach me.

"Like a cat claw." I try to demonstrate with my hand waving and spasming in the air.

A ghost of a smile teases at Rhydian's lips and he nods. He looks soft. Almost sweet. Maybe it is the morning light making him look young. Or his dishevelled hair.

"Stay there!" I order as I climb out of bed.

I grab a hairbrush and some hairpins and ties from the dresser before jumping back into bed, where I move Rhydian about until he is sitting in front of me. He freezes as I touch his last remaining braid.

"Don't undo it."

"I know," I say softly. "I'm just going to tidy you up a bit."

I hum a simple tune as I work with his gorgeous, glossy hair. I brush a section and then start braiding it up. I may adore him looking far softer than usual, but he has an image and a reputation to maintain. He can look undone with me, but no one else.

"I can't do the super fancy stuff whoever normally does your hair can, but I can put it up," I babble out loud. "I wanted to be a hairdresser when I was a kid and mum bought me lots of dolls to practise on. I wanted to do weddings."

I have no idea why I am telling him all of this, but hopefully, my rambling is calming and soothing.

As for me, getting to do his hair is a dream come true. I twist half of his wonderful mane up in various braids and plaits, and leave the rest loose, in the best approximation of fey style that I can manage.

It doesn't even take me that long. Maybe he will let me do it again, some other day. I'd like that. I think he'd like it too. He seemed to enjoy me playing with his hair. His shoulders definitely look more relaxed now.

"Thank you," he says quietly, and my heart does a complete somersault.

"I have to go," he says.

"Are you sure?"

Is he ready to face the world? It seems awfully cruel that he has to, but then again, that's the fey world for you. Cruel, heartless. Unforgiving.

"Yes."

"Okay then," I say as I wriggle out of the way so he can escape the bed. If he has places to be and people to meet, I trust his judgement that none of it can be avoided or rearranged. This is his world. He knows how it works. And he knows what he is capable of. As much as my heart is bleeding for him.

I watch him go, presumably to his bathroom to get washed and fully dressed for the day. He pauses in the doorway, with his back to me.

"I will be back for dinner."

My heart flip flops again. Dinner sounds great.

"That's everything?" exclaims Mabon with obvious disappointment in his glittering purple eyes.

He sighs dramatically as he picks up his teacup.

"Everything, everything?" he demands with great emphasis on the word. "You simply thought Ninian deserved to get out of here more than you?"

"Yes," I repeat for what feels like the thousandth time.

Mabon huffs and leans back in his chair. I pop another tiny and delicious cake into my mouth. Having unexpected visitors isn't all bad. Pinky puts on a better spread for guests than when it's just me.

"You really must be enjoying my brother's cock," says Mabon.

I inhale cake. It sticks right in my throat, making me cough and splutter until my eyes water. Pinky steps forward and whacks me firmly on the back. I grab a napkin, tidy my face and gulp some tea to wash the remaining traces of cake down.

"Thank you," I wheeze to Pinky.

She simply nods and disappears again. I turn to glare at Mabon and find him calmly sipping tea as if I didn't just nearly choke to death because of him. I have a distinct feeling that if I did die, he'd poke my corpse with his pointed shoe to check, then sniff disdainfully before wandering off.

I sigh heavily. He can't help being the way he is. And I can't expect fey to behave like humans. They have a different moral compass. If they have morals at all. Which leads me back to the thought that has been circling my mind ever since Mabon arrived unannounced.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

He looks fine, but that doesn't mean a thing. Rhydian looked glorious this morning when he left our rooms.

"I'm fabulous, why wouldn't I be?" Mabon proclaims as he flicks a lock of long lilac hair over his shoulder.

I grin, but manage to stay focused. "Rhydian asked you to… with Iestyn." Damn it, that wasn't very coherent at all. But I think Mabon has got the gist of what I'm talking about.

Mabon rolls his eyes. "That man doesn't appreciate beauty."

"He turned you down?" Relief floods through me. The thought of Mabon also suffering at Iestyn's hands was horrendous.

"No one turns me down! He simply didn't appreciate me." Mabon sniffs in disgust. "He likes fear. That's why he is so taken with the tylwyth pet Llywelyn gifted him."

A shiver runs down my spine. Spring sunshine is flooding the sitting room and birds are singing, but suddenly it feels far too cold in here. Iestyn liking fear is a very astute observation. And the poor tylwyth, I hadn't heard that he had been handed over permanently.

I take a careful sip of my tea.

"You're not scared of him?" I ask as nonchalantly as I can manage.

Mabon wrinkles his dainty nose. "I dislike him. I'm not scared of him. I'm not scared of anyone."

Now, that I can believe. I wish I was as brave and spirited as Mabon.

"Couldn't you pretend?" I ask.

Mabon seems to have figured out exactly what Iestyn likes, and Rhydian said he trusted Mabon with his life, so surely Mabon would want to carry out his brother's request?

A dark thought tries to snake into my mind, but I drive it away angrily. Even if Mabon had been distracting Iestyn as he was asked to, last night still would have happened. Last night was all about power and dominance and nothing at all to do with lust or boredom. All the blame for last night's horrors lies firmly at Iestyn's feet. No one else's.

Mabon's eyes narrow and he taps his nose thoughtfully. Shit! Has he discerned my thoughts? No, wait a minute. I think it's fine. I think he is pondering my question about him pretending to be scared, and judging by his expression, it is an idea that has never even crossed his mind before.

"No," he says eventually. "Dyfri is the actor."

My heart thuds dully. "Rhydian won't ask Dyfri to do it, will he?"

"Never!" says Mabon gleefully as he pours himself more tea from the silver teapot. "Big brother is very protective of little brother. Well, as much as he can be. The man who made Dyfri a rhocyn discovered that."

I put down the cake I had just picked up. My eyes have gone as wide as saucers, I can just tell. Mabon grins at me in delight.

"It was so gruesome. Of course, nobody knew for sure who had done it, but at the same time everyone knew, if you know what I mean."

I stare at Mabon silently and beg him to continue.

"The man was found laid out like a sacrifice. And his balls had been cut off and fed to him."

Mabon pauses dramatically. "He had been made to chew them."

"Oh, my god!" I shriek.

"Of course," continues Mabon, his tone suddenly sombre. "The man was merely one of Iestyn's puppets. Rhydian hasn't been able to get to Iestyn yet and I don't know why."

"More tea?" I say sharply even though Mabon's cup is over half full.

He nods anyway, and I start pouring. My hands are shaking. Shit, shit, shit. I need to change the conversation immediately. This is far too close for comfort.

"How is someone made a rhocyn?" I ask.

Oh, my god. What is wrong with me? This is a terrible choice of topic.

"Being weak enough that someone can overpower you and force you to submit," answers Mabon. "And if they unbind your hair to prove it, that makes it official." His eyes narrow. "Why so curious?"

"Just trying to understand how things work here!" I say, far too enthusiastically.

Mabon reaches for another sandwich, but there is still a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

"Are you any good at blow jobs?" I blurt.

Mabon stares at me wide eyed. A cucumber sandwich frozen halfway to his mouth.

"I…er…want to improve my technique and my lessons with Dyfri were cut short," I stammer while my cheeks burn.

A slow grin spreads across Mabon's face. He elegantly puts his sandwich down and picks up the whole cucumber that I assume was in the middle of the table for decoration.

"My dear, I thought you'd never ask."

Oh hell. What have I got myself into now?