Chapter 30

Ilook beautiful, and it's making me all teary. I truly hope this mirror isn't enchanted, because that would be the cruelest prank ever. Finding out that this isn't real would break my heart, and if that makes me shallow, then so be it.

The changes that fey food have made to my body are exquisite and delicate. It's astonishing what a difference a few simple changes can make. My hair is more glossy, deeper in colour. Longer and curling now. My skin is smoother and clearer. My nose a fraction straighter. My eyes a shade brighter. Each change is tiny on its own, but all together, it's incredible.

I've always wanted to be pretty. Hasn't everyone? To have it actually happen is a dream come true.

My hips move side to side and swish my new fancy robes. This outfit is beautiful. A deep twilight blue, sprinkled with diamonds. It looks like I'm wearing the evening sky.

It cinches at my narrow waist. Good tailoring or more effects of fey food, I'm not sure, but my waist looks amazing. My stomach looks flat and toned, my shoulders shapely. I'm still short, but that suits me. I look like the world's most fuckable twink, and I love it.

My gaze slides off my alluring form and takes in the bed behind me. My heart clenches painfully, yet again. Rhydian's rooms have all been rearranged. This is a new bedchamber. And the furs covering the mattress are no longer rich brown, but snow white. The bed frame is also new. This one is dark marble with gold veins. No magic in the world could make vines shoot from it.

To anyone else, it probably simply looks like Rhydian wanted a change. To redecorate and freshen up his living space. But I know the truth. He hasn't told me with words, but I know. And it is eating up at me with cold, impotent fury. I need to do something.

Rhydian appears in the mirror behind me and distracts me entirely. The sight of him banishes every dark thought from my mind. His gaze rakes over me and a proud smile tugs at his lips. I grin back at him. He looks incredible too. His blue silk robes are a shade lighter than mine, but they clearly complement each other. A signal to the world that we belong together.

His silks are partially covered by another layer of etched brown leather that flares at the shoulders. Combined with his proud antlers, he looks as regal as hell.

This ball is going to be amazing. Attending it by his side is going to bring out my inner smug jerk and I don't even care.

Rhydian smiles at me again and clips a delicate looking leash of fine silver chain to my collar. I follow him as gracefully as I can as he leads me out. The hallways appear even longer today. Darker and damper. The ceilings are covered in foliage that twists and moves. Bright white flowers bloom amongst the dark green leaves. A heady, intoxicating scent exudes from them.

Buckingham Palace is fading more and more every day. I shiver and try not to think about it.

We reach a ballroom and slip inside. The gathering is already in full swing, but nobody is dancing yet. They are all talking in small groups, thin wine glasses in hand, or parading around in their fancy outfits.

Candles and crystals hang from the too high ceiling and illuminate the room with light and shadows. Jewels sparkle from clothes and glitter shines from skin. It's beautiful and spooky.

There is no grand, formal announcement of Rhydian's arrival, but a fair few people look up and acknowledge him with small bows and curtsies. Rhydian holds out his hand and theatrically drops my leash.

Murmurs and titters spread out across the crowd, and then everyone resumes what they were doing.

Bastard. I wish he had told me he was going to do that. It clearly signifies something, but I have no idea what. Does it mean I have been tamed? That I'm no longer a threat? Fully brainwashed and firmly ensnared by Stockholm Syndrome?

Rhydian strolls away and it is clear from his body language that I'm not to follow. I scowl at his back and make my way to the drinks table. My now defunct leash kisses the floor lightly as it trails gracefully beside me. It looks more like jewellery spilling down the length of my robes. I wonder who measured it so perfectly?

A group of laughing people step in front of me, forcing me to stop. I look up and accidentally meet Iestyn's dull green eyes. I see him blink in surprise and then turn away as if I'm nothing. The bastard is surprised I'm alive. My fists clench at my side. Rhydian having to kill his pet was part of his plan. I'm savagely glad to have thwarted his intentions, but I'm just about clever enough to realise it has put me in great danger.

Even more reason to do something. Revenge. Justice. And self-preservation. It all sounds good to me.

I reach the drinks table that is tucked in against one long wall. I pick up an ornate glass of clear liquid that I hope is water. Then my gaze falls on Dyfri, standing a little way down the table, holding a silver goblet that is smoking slightly. His robes are all shades of black and grey.

I hurry over to him. The relief of a friendly, familiar face is immense. He doesn't appear to be serving tonight, and I'm so very glad of that. But I have a sinking feeling that it doesn't make him any safer.

His raven dark hair is gorgeous. It is falling free and unhindered to his narrow waist, and apparently I've been living with fey long enough that the sight is a little bit shocking. I'm so used to seeing elaborate updos, that all that loose hair looks decadent. Almost obscene. As if he is naked.

My hand runs over my curls. My hair is now long enough to fall in my eyes and be annoying. Not long at all by fey standards, but I feel all kinds of self conscious that it is loose.

Seems it is not only my body that has changed. Fey ways of thinking have seeped into my very mind. It is extremely disconcerting. I shove the thought to one side, to deal with later. This is a party. I want to try to have some fun.

"Hi!" I say brightly to Dyfri. It feels like I haven't seen him in an age.

"Hello," he replies with a cold look in his eyes as he sips his drink.

My heart sinks. "Did Rhydian tell you not to speak to me?"

"Yes," he says simply, and I suppose there is not much to say to that.

I sigh heavily and sip my water. But I don't move away. Rhydian hasn't forbidden me from standing next to his brother.

We watch the milling, brightly coloured crowd in companionable silence for a while. But there is something I need to ask him. Some seed of an idea that is germinating in my mind.

"I need some poison," I whisper.

Dark eyes rake over me. "I'm not helping you murder my brother," he says calmly.

"What?" I gasp in horror. "No! I don't want to murder Rhydian!"

It is shocking to think that to outsiders, I'm a captive. A pet. An unwilling victim who yearns for freedom. I thought Dyfri had sharper eyes than that.

"Who then?" he asks.

He looks suspicious, but I can tell he believes that I mean his brother no harm. He can see the truth, after all. And that thought is giving me a warm, fuzzy feeling in my stomach.

"Iestyn," I admit casually.

Dyfri raises one dark eyebrow. "What has he done to you?"

A quiet rage simmers in my soul. "He hurt someone that I…like."

"You already stole Ninian away. That's infuriating him plenty," huffs Dyfri.

I shake my head. "That's not enough. He is still a threat."

Dyfri gives me a long, dark look. I can feel him examining my very soul. "Who is it that you care so much about?"

A shiver wracks my body and my heart pounds. Shit. I'm terrible at this. I'm so out of my depth that it is not even funny. I'm trying to help, but all I'm going to end up doing is spilling all of Rhydian's secrets and making everything a thousand times worse.

My gaze darts around the room, seeking an escape route. The crowd parts and reveals the tylwyth pet kneeling in a corner, his heavy leash wrapped around a pillar. It feels like a sign.

"I can't tell you," I say as a blush comes to me easily.

Dyfri's dark gaze tracks mine. He sees the tylwyth and frowns. Thank fuck he has fallen for my subterfuge.

"Always had a weak spot for the underdog," I whisper for good measure.

I hope this is believable. Rhydian thinks I'm too soft and too kind, so surely his brother has a similar opinion? It's not a wild leap to think I'm all emotional about the tylwyth being forced to be Iestyn's pet. Because that part is true.

Dyfri gives me a mistrustful look. He takes another sip of his drink. "I'll see what I can do," he says quietly.

I stare at him until he rolls his eyes.

"I don't carry poison on me!"

Well, that's good enough for me. That's very good indeed. In fact, it's making me feel all kinds of invigorated and hopeful.

I grab another glass of water and weave around the edges of the ballroom until I reach the tylwyth. This is partly for Dyfri's benefit and partly because I do actually give a crap.

I drop gently to my knees in front of the chained pet and hold out the glass of water, making sure my offering is in his line of vision.

"Here," I say softly.

He raises his head. Bright purple eyes stare at me. Full of hatred. Rage. Fury. He seems to recognise me and his expression softens. He takes the water and gulps it down.

I stare at the bruises on his face. He stares at my collar. Heat prickles uncomfortably along my skin, making me squirm.

"Would you like some food?" I ask.

He nods and I hurry away, because I want to give him food before I am caught. I'm not hurrying for any other reason. Nothing at all to do with shame that my captivity is so very different from his.

The table of the fey equivalent of canapes is blessedly deserted. I grab a plate and fill it with a selection. I do not know what kind of fey foods winged men like to eat or even can eat. I hope he knows if any of this stuff is poisonous to him.

The echo of that thought shivers through me. The rage in his eyes replays in my mind. My gaze falls on the dainty cake knives. I swallow and quickly make my way back to the pet.

I kneel before him again. My back is to the fey, who have now started dancing to twinkling, strangely eerie music. I hand him the plate of food and I press the cake knife into his palm. His eyes widen. My hand is in front of my body. I know no one can see, but cold sweat is drenching my back.

The tylwyth moves his hand lightning fast, and the silver knife disappears into his robes.

"It's probably a stupid idea. But it is the best I can do for you," I whisper.

He nods. A flash of thanks sparks across his purple eyes, then he starts quickly devouring the food.

I rise and leave him to it. My heart is thrumming and my limbs shaking. I hope it works. I hope he stabs Iestyn and gets out of here.

I could blame this bloodthirst on the fey's influence, but part of me has always been a vindictive little shit and capable of holding a grudge for all eternity. And right now, I'm not ashamed of it at all.

I'm proud.

And this is merely a practice run. A stepping stone towards my true goal.

If all goes well, Iestyn is going to get what he truly deserves.