Page 36 of Fey Empire (Fey Lords #5)

Chapter thirty-five

L oki is watching me with a bemused expression. She has given up walking beside me while I pace back and forth across the sitting room, and now she is sitting while observing me with her head tilted to the side.

The full moon is about to rise. Dyfri is about to face my mother in a duel.

It is all far beyond awful. And it is all my fault. I should have realised that she’d twist my actions into something that benefits her. Hurting and using me is one thing, tormenting and trampling on people I care about is quite another. She is such a bitch. I hate her.

Loki whines. A sad, worried sound.

My feet stop. I take a deep breath. “Sorry, girl.” I walk over and pat her head. She is right, wearing the carpet out will solve nothing.

Selwyn walks into the room, and I whirl to face him. “Have you foreseen the duel? Does Dyfri win?”

Selwyn’s eyes fill with pain. “Foresight is a blessing and a burden. I will not burden you.”

I stare at him. He looks utterly resolute in this. If he has seen anything, he will not tell me. Why are all the fey such stubborn bastards ?

A ghost of a smile twitches his lips. “It is a delight to see your fierce side, Little Lamb. I am looking forward to seeing more of it.”

My eyes narrow. I add a scowl to my glare.

Dimly, I’m shocked at the way I am behaving, but I am far too wound up to care enough to try to stop.

I’m so worried about Dyfri, and I am so full of guilt, regret and remorse.

Nevermind the fact that Mother’s actions feel like a betrayal even though her actions are not a surprise.

Selwyn walks up to me. His hands rest on my shoulders. “I have seen Dyfri happy in the future. So whatever happens today, his tomorrows are bright.”

My scowl deepens. That means nothing. Dyfri’s entire life could be awful except for a few happy days when he is an old man, just before he dies.

I open my mouth to say something, but Jamie bursts into the sitting room, with Ollie not far behind him.

“Is your mother really going to go through with this?” Jamie asks.

I nod. “Absolutely.”

She would have planned this meticulously while also setting up the next several moves of her never-ending quest for more power. She’ll have her reasons for doing this, and nothing will change her mind.

Jamie pales. “Could she win?”

“She… she…” I stammer before starting again. “She is ruthless and has no heart at all, and her magic is strong.”

Jamie grows even paler as he stares at me with wide eyes.

“This sucks,” mutters Ollie.

“I thought you didn’t like Dyfri?” I say.

Ollie fixes me with a truly belligerent glare. “I don’t. ”

He is putting up a good front. Using hostility as his shield. Nevertheless, underneath the aggression in his emerald eyes, I can see concern.

I guess two things can be true at once. You can dislike someone while also not wishing for something awful to befall them.

"Will she use iron and salt like I did?" Jamie asks.

That's a good question. Would she? It would be an easy enough way to win. I ponder it some more.

"No, she won't," I say. "She won't want the fey to fear her. Because threats get eliminated."

She will also enjoy showing off her power, and she wouldn't want any one to accuse her of cheating.

I wisely keep that thought to myself. Implying you think the Crown Prince Consort is a cheater, is not a clever thing to do.

Jamie's expression turns thoughtful. And a little hopeful. "That's something, at least."

Now I know why Selwyn didn't want to tell me anything. The tentative hope in Jamie's eyes is crushing. I can't bear it. It is like watching a puppy you ?know is about to be drowned, wag its tail.

"Time to go," Selwyn says gently.

He has been standing by my side since Jamie and Ollie burst in, quietly allowing us to talk. Unobtrusive, yet still using his presence as a comforting shield.

Jamie winces. Ollie scowls. I hold my head up high and stride towards the door. Moping does no good at all. Falling apart won't help Dyfri. But being a calm, confident presence just might.

T he great hall is packed. I didn't know there were this many fey at court.

It is just like the fey to all come out of the woodwork to witness a spectacle.

The crowd has formed a circle in the very centre of the enormous room. An ominous ring of bare stone. No ornamentation. No finery or pomp.

Cruelty is beautiful enough to the fey.

My mother strides into the circle, confidence clear in every step. She is wearing immaculate fey robes. A vibrant green that matches her eyes. Her dark hair is tied back in a braid, and I wonder who gave it to her and why. I will have to ask Selwyn later what it means.

The crowd falls silent. Anticipation thickens the air.

Where is Dyfri?

The silence holds. It grows. Anticipation begins to morph into unease.

He is going to show, isn't he?

My heart is racing now. What happens to fey who run away from a duel? Nothing good, surely. But Dyfri is clever, if he ran away, he would not be found. I don't think.

Murmurs start by the north doors. The crowd moves and shifts. Parting to make way. Dyfri steps into the circle and faces my mother.

His robes are beautiful. Clever layers. Black and reds and delicate, intricate embroidery.

His hair is gleaming. Dark enough to reflect the light. Falling ?to his waist like something to be proud of.

I stare at the top of his head. Where are his horns? There is no trace of them. Please don't tell me he has cut them off like Selwyn threatened to do when he was distraught ?

I look up at my husband in alarm. He winces and lowers his lips to my ear.

"Horns take... emotional strength to manifest."

Dyfri’s expression is calm, cold and stoic. His dark eyes are giving nothing away. But everyone here knows his inner turmoil. His emotions are naked for everyone to see.

My stomach heaves, and all my blood turns to ice. Poor, poor Dyfri. This is absolutely awful.

The silence in the hall resettles. The crowd's eyes are hungry and gleaming with bloodlust.

A gong sounds. As the challenged, Dyfri gets to attack first.

My breath sticks in my lungs. My hand finds Selwyn's and clenches it tightly. Dimly, I'm aware of Selwyn's shock at my action, and actually I don't think fey hold hands, or if they do, it means something different. But I'm far too fraught to fret about a social faux pas right now.

An immense wave of magic rolls from Dyfri. All glittery and dark. Powerful like the depths of an ocean.

Mother grimaces and throws up a magical shield. She struggles to hold it as the intense magic crashes against it.

Dyfri is unleashing a fierce attack, but he is not giving all that he has. I have sensed his magic. It is stronger than this. Far darker than this.

I look around the assembled fey court. And my suspicion solidifies.

He doesn't want them to know.

He is hiding the true extent of his powers.

But in that case, how have I sensed them? Is it because I am a vessel and vessels sense magic differently? Or is it because his mask slipped in my presence?

Or did he allow his mask to fall because he trusted me ?

I force a swallow down my tight throat. My stomach has sunk down to my boots. I don't want it to be the last option. Anything but that. Please.

A gong sounds out.

Dyfri ceases his attack. Mother drops her shield. It is her turn now.

She flings a veritable fireball of power at him. Dyfri flicks his wrist and deflects it easily.

The tightness in my chest eases. Maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be okay.

The gong sounds.

Dyfri's turn again.

He moves his hand, and a crack appears in the flagstone by Mother's feet. Something crawls out of it. A lot of somethings.

It takes my eyes a moment to process that the undulating black mass is a sea of spiders. Some of them are quite large.

They scurry straight to Mother and begin running up her robes.

Her face has gone whiter than a sheet. Her eyes have gone frantic and glassy. She looks like she is about to faint.

My heart pounds. How did Dyfri know that Mother is terrified of spiders? Who told him? I only ever suspected it and could never confirm it, because she did a very good job of hiding the signs.

I watch as she starts to tremble. The spiders are on her chest now. Determinedly climbing towards her face.

Mother is clearly terrified, but she is holding her ground. She isn't screaming or surrendering.

The gong sounds.

The spiders disappear. They were only an illusion .

Mother inhales deeply. Then she shakes herself as if attempting to dislodge any remaining arachnids.

Then she glares at Dyfri, and I cower. It was business before. Now it is personal.

With great ceremony, she draws a plain glass bottle out of her robes. It looks like water.

She holds it aloft for the crowd to see.

"Holy water!" she declares in a voice that carries.

As all the assembled fey collectively gasp. I realise the strange cadence of her voice is because she is speaking fey and my translator is doing its job.

"Harmless to Seelie. Deadly to Unseelie," she intones with great theatrics.

"Shall we discover just how unseelie you are, Your Highness?"

Everyone inhales. A ripple of movement spreads out. Someone exclaims out loud.

The entire court is loving this. Mother has planned this perfectly. She has learnt how much fear and mistrust there is of the unseelie, and she is using it to her full advantage.

She unstoppers the bottle, then she flings the contents at Dyfri.

Time slows. I see the water arch in the air. I see Dyfri turn away from it. I see the clear droplets splash on his arm and shoulder.

I see steam rise. I hear a hissing noise. I smell burning flesh.

Dyfri drops to his knees, clutching his arm. He bows his head.

The gong sounds.

Dyfri remains frozen in silent agony. Steam is still rising from his arm. He is not attacking .

The crowd are murmuring and whispering. Words and snippets reach my ears. Shock, glee and scandal. And fear. Dyfri’s unseelie blood is thicker than the darkest whispers ever claimed. And he has been living amongst them.

Selwyn's hand tightens on mine. Hard enough to bruise. I don't mind at all.

The gong sounds.

Dyfri was unable to take his turn. The crowd erupts. Loud noise, swirling motion as everyone turns to exclaim to their neighbour.

The duel is over. Dyfri has lost.

Mother grins and steps forward. The crowd falls instantly silent and still once more. Nobody wants to miss the cruelest part. The bit the fey have all been eagerly waiting for.

"Shall I cut your hair and make you a resyn?" my mother purrs. "No, I think you would enjoy being unseen."

She pauses dramatically, and the crowd waits with bated breath. Hanging on her every word.

"Shall I banish you?" She smirks at her audience, lapping up the attention.

Dyfri is still on his knees, clutching his arm to his chest. His long dark hair is concealing his face.

"No, I think you would find that a freedom."

She stalks up to Dyfri and begins to slowly walk around him. Circling her prey.

"Such a shame I can't unbind your hair," she croons.

My stomach heaves. I'm going to be sick.

Mother pauses behind Dyfri's back. She taps her finger against her lips as if thinking hard. As if she hasn't planned all of this .

"I know!" she declares. "I shall be lenient and take only a forfeit."

A wave of eager whispers fills the great hall.

Mother holds up her hand. Silence falls. She is utterly in control of everything.

"You shall be a rhocyn of old once more. The new law no longer applies to you. Nobody need ask your permission. You must warm the bed of anyone who wants you."

The crowd goes wild.

I bury my face against Selwyn's chest. He puts his arm around me and holds me tight.

This is the worst day of all time.