Chapter 35

Ihave never seen a more wonderful sight than the door to Dyfri's rooms. By some miracle, I've made it here while only passing two busy looking servants. I managed to walk normally whilst in sight of them. I don't think they noticed anything wrong. In fact, I'm not sure they even noticed me at all.

I shove the door open and stagger through the maze of overflowing shelving units. I make it to the workbench and lean over it heavily. Please let my luck hold out a little longer and allow Dyfri to actually be here.

A clang catches my attention. Dyfri is at the far end of the room, standing by the white marble fireplace. There is something that looks for all the world like a cauldron, sitting on the flames. And judging by the ladle in Dyfri's hands, he was just stirring it. Now he is staring at me.

"I need your help," I say.

He places the ladle back into the cauldron and glides over to me. He goes straight to my back. His cold fingers prod gently through the cuts in my robes.

"Rhydian did this to you?" he asks quietly, and he sounds upset.

"No!" I reassure him.

Rhydian would never do this. Especially not after witnessing my reaction to being spanked.

"Then who?"

I grit my teeth. "Iestyn."

Dyfri's fingers pause in their prodding. "He caught you trying to kill him?"

"No. I forgot to curtsy to him."

My voice sounds petulant and sulky. Dyfri sighs and I don't blame him.

"Can you patch me up?" I plead.

"Yes," he answers as he drifts over to some shelves and starts collecting bottles.

"Well enough that Rhydian will never know?" I clarify.

Dyfri freezes, turns around to face me, and tilts his head. "Why?"

I swallow. "Because it is clearly a trap. Iestyn is trying to rile Rhydian into doing something reckless."

A slow, malevolent smile spreads across Dyfri's face. "You are smarter than you look."

"Thanks," I grumble. Talk about a backhanded compliment.

Dyfri comes back to the workbench and places his armload of supplies down. Then he starts pulling tattered silk away from my wounds. I hiss and try to stay still.

"Of course, Iestyn could simply have wished to enjoy beating you," remarks Dyfri casually as he moves onto tugging the remnants of my robes off of my shoulder, baring my torso.

"No. Iestyn is a slippery bastard. There was more to it than that," I tell him.

I know I'm right. Gut instinct. A hunch. Intuition. Whatever it is called, my mother would be thrilled to know I'm finally listening to it.

Something cold and sticky smears onto my back and I groan in relief.

"So what are you going to do?" asks Dyfri.

I sigh. I don't know. My only thought was to get patched up and make sure Rhydian never finds out. There hasn't been any time to plot any further.

Dyfri starts to hum as he works. "You were already plotting to kill him. Is this going to make you move your plans forward?"

"I don't know," I confess, and I rest my forehead against the workbench.

Rhydian is probably right. I am no match for Iestyn. Going up against him will likely only get me killed. It was a foolish dream. If Rhydian has never been able to get rid of him, why did I think I stood a chance? My stupid sense of justice was clearly ignoring reality. Yet again.

My muscles relax as the ointment seeps into me. I knew Dyfri was the right person to come to. He'll heal me. Rhydian will never know, and I will give up on my plans of eliminating Iestyn.

My fingers dig into the wooden worktop and I grind my teeth so tightly that my jaw aches. As sensible as that plan is, I can't do it. I just can't. I cannot stand the thought of allowing Iestyn to get away with every terrible thing he has ever done.

"Are you going to give me poison?" I ask.

Because there is no point in making plans if I'm not even going to have anything to work with. If Dyfri isn't going to help me, I might have to give up. Despite how enraging that would be.

"If you are sure you still want it," replies Dyfri calmly.

Thank fuck for that. I don't have to surrender my dream. There is still hope. Now I just have to figure out how the hell to get the poison into Iestyn's food without getting caught, or leaving any traces to myself or Dyfri.

"You could always challenge him to a duel," says Dyfri.

I snort loudly. "Yeah, right."

Dyfri doesn't laugh. He cannot be serious?

"Are you crazy?" I exclaim.

The next layer of cream goes on rather forcefully, and I wince.

"I'm not crazy."

"He is a powerful fey with magic and shit!" I protest.

Dyfri sighs heavily, as if I am the world's biggest idiot. "And you are human."

I blink for several minutes while my mind tries to decipher that puzzle. But I have to give up because I have nothing.

"And?" I prompt.

"Maybe you are as dumb as you look, after all!" snaps Dyfri.

Something that feels like soft cotton presses against one of my wounds. Then Dyfri's hands reach around my front and start wrapping a bandage around me. His tone may be harsh, but his touch is gentle.

"Do you people no longer tell tales of us?" asks Dyfri.

I frown. "A bit?" What has this got to do with anything?

Dyfri tuts in disgust. "Humans knew to be wary of us once. Horseshoes over doorways to keep as away. Salt circles. Wands made of rowan wood."

He falls silent. The fire crackles, and his clever hands keep working, winding and winding soft clean bandages over me. Why is he telling me this? If iron and salt and other stuff can be used against fey, that means all fey. Not just Iestyn. Why would Dyfri give me such power? What if I escape and join the Resistance?

Dyfri ties the bandage off. I already feel so much better. A lot of the pain has already gone.

I turn around to face him. "Thank you," I say.

He nods without looking at me and starts winding up the unused length of bandage. I hate that he is still so surprised every time I thank him. Is that why he is dropping hints to help me? Because I treat him with common decency?

"Do those things really work?" I ask hesitantly.

His hands fall still. His dark eyes stare at me. "There is a reason humans were able to drive us out and reclaim their world."

My mind goes blank. I thought the fey left because they got bored, and then their realm drifted too far away for the portals to work? At least, that's what the news reports said. Though, if what Dyfri is saying is true, of course the fey are going to want to paint that kind of picture.

I swallow. "Why…why are you telling me?"

Dyfri's eyes narrow. "You think I like Iestyn?"

Oh. My. God. Of course. I'm such an idiot. Mabon told me the full story of how Rhydian killed the man who made Dyfri a rhocyn, but how that man was merely working for Iestyn.

For some reason, I had kind of thought that Dyfri might not know. But now, staring into his dark eyes, that was clearly a stupid conclusion. Dyfri knows everything. About everyone. He probably knows what I had for breakfast.

"Thank you!" I exclaim as I throw my arms around him hard enough to make him stagger.

"Don't fuck it up," he grumbles as he accepts my hug.

But I can hear the affection in his voice. I can feel it in his, admittedly stiff, body language.

I'm going to get that bastard Iestyn. For Rhydian. And for my friend. And for everyone else he has ever hurt.