Chapter 37

"What have you done?"

Rhydian's voice is full of anger, but his eyes are brimming with anguish. The door to our rooms has barely shut behind us and he is already yelling at me.

"I stopped you from doing something stupid!" I yell back.

"So you thought you'd do the stupid thing instead of me?"

"Yes!" I exclaim at him, waving my arms about. "I mean, no! You were walking right into Iestyn's trap, doing exactly what he wanted you to do, like his good little puppet."

Rhydian's amber eyes blaze as he strides towards me. One step. Two steps. My body tries to coil away from him. My hands lift up as if they can defend me.

Rhydian freezes suddenly. Falling as motionless as a statue. All the colour drains from his face. He looks stricken. Aghast. Mortified. He blinks slowly and draws in a shuddering breath.

"You are no match for him," he says softly.

And just like that, all the anger filling the room dissipates. It drifts away like barbeque smoke on a summer breeze. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself. It is like the rage was heating the room and now it has gone, so has all the warmth.

Rhydian shrugs off his top layer of soft leather and drapes it over my shoulder. It still carries his body heat. And it smells of him. I clutch on to it tightly and look up into his eyes.

He is looking at me with such sorrow. As if I am a condemned man and there is nothing he can do to save me. There is so much pain in his eyes, it is breaking my heart. It is like he is already grieving my loss.

"The full moon is in a couple of days," he says, his voice straining and hoarse.

My stomach does a mini heave. I'm deducing from everything I've heard tonight, that once a challenge is accepted, the duel takes place on the next full moon.

For fuck's sake. If I had been able to plan this, I would have gone for just after a full moon, so I'd have maximum time to prepare for the next one.

Iestyn the bastard probably planned it this way. But it was supposed to be Rhydian fighting him, not me.

Rhydian shudders. I think he has realised the same thing. And now it really looks as if his eyes are watering. I reach out and take his hand.

"I am human. There are things I can do, that you cannot."

"Such as?" asks Rhydian, his eyes narrowing.

"Iron. Salt. Rowan wood," I whisper.

His grip on my hand tightens. His jaw drops. His face goes even paler.

Oh shit. I really truly hope he doesn't ask me how I know this. I don't want to rat Dyfri out.

Rhydian continues to stare at me for a long, long time. I'm lost in his gaze, but I have no idea what he is thinking.

"I can't help you prepare," he says eventually. "It goes against the rules of a challenge."

Well, that's shitty news, but strangely, not exactly surprising. Maybe I am finally getting a feel for how the fey think and how their world works.

"Okay," I say. "Can anyone help me?"

It might just be a pet and owner thing. If Dyfri can help me, this will be a breeze. But Rhydian shakes his head and dashes my tentative hope. Looks like I'm on my own. My heart beats against my ribs in protest at that idea.

"Can you give me internet access?" I ask.

Rhydian nods. "That, I can do."

I grin at him and squeeze his hand. See? It's fine. Everything is going to be fine. Google knows the answer to everything. It is going to know how to defeat an evil fey vizier in a duel.

A wave of dizziness washes over me. Rhydian steadies me. Oh, my god. What the hell have I got myself into?

Along with all the many other ways this is a mess, research is going to be a disaster. There is going to be a ton of crap about horseshoes and not stepping into mushroom rings, and putting your clothes on inside out. Loads of stuff from fairytales, left over from the last time they were here, and diluted by the passage of time. How am I ever going to decipher what is true and what is nonsense?

Rhydian slides another plate of snacks next to my new laptop. I pull off my cat ear headphones and smile at him.

"Do you need anything else?" he asks.

I look over at the table that has been turned into my desk. Several notebooks. An abundance of pens. Six different drinks and now, three different snacks. Not to mention the comfy cushion under my butt and the one at my lower back.

"I'm fine, thank you," I say.

I pull my headphones back up and get back to work, but I can see Rhydian's reflection on the laptop screen. Frustration and a little bit of fear flash through me. My, ‘Get Shit Done' Spotify playlist isn't going to make me able to tune him out, and I'm terrible at focusing at the best of times.

"Gah! Stop hovering!" I snap as I twist around in my chair to glare at him.

One look at his stricken face has me instantly repenting. He is trying to help. He is frantic with worry. It must be awful to feel so very powerless. I'd be an absolute mess if the roles were reversed.

As it is, I hate seeing him like this. He has spent a lifetime being aloof and living behind meticulously crafted walls. If I am seeing this many cracks in the facade, the depth of emotion he must be drowning in, has to be immense.

And I am the cause of it all.

"Sorry," I say. "How about you give me a nice shoulder massage while I work?"

I turn back around and start writing notes about this Wikipedia page. Some of this stuff sounds like it might actually be useful. It was clearly written back when we all thought fairies were nonsense, but it is a careful catalogue of the oral storytelling traditions of the Hebrides. There is going to be great information in here, I'm sure of it. If anything is going to stand the test of time, surely it is going to be stories handed down the generations in remote Scottish islands?

Long cool fingers dig into my shoulder. Oh my god! He is actually doing it. My fey prince is giving me a massage because I requested it! I want to squeal and squirm in elation. Who is the pet now, your highness? Hmm? Looks like I have you wrapped around my little finger. Mum did always say I was going to end up a pampered princess. She thinks I deserve no less and I'm inclined to agree with her.

I start to hum along to the music as I work. Between the songs, my humming and Rhydian's gentle touch, my brain is satisfied enough to actually concentrate for a change.

I zone in and lose myself in the task at hand. After a while, I realise that Rhydian's hands have moved from my shoulders to playing with my hair. Wow, that feels so nice.

Oh gosh! I freeze as my brain finally catches up with what is going on. Rhydian is not simply playing with my hair. He is weaving braids into it. I don't understand the full significance of it, but I know it means something. It feels monumental. Hair is super important to fey. If unbinding someone's hair is so devastating, braiding a pet's hair for the first time has to be wonderful.

But I can't acknowledge it. I can't react at all. Because if I do, I'll start crying hysterical tears of joy and I don't have time for that. I have to figure out how to defeat Iestyn. Because sod dying.

Rhydian is being attentive and sweet, and we got into this mess because he flew into a rage over me being hurt, and now he is braiding my hair.

So yes, sod dying. I'm going to live.