Page 4 of Fey Empire (Fey Lords #5)

Chapter four

“ W hy didn’t you seduce him?” Mother’s green eyes are narrowed. Her mouth is pinched. “You were alone with him. It was the perfect opportunity to snare him.”

I really don’t think it was. He is a fey prince, not a British noble. He is not at all bound by the same social expectations. Why would he care what a conquered people thought about him taking a vessel that wasn’t his?

Nevermind that seduction is a skill that is completely beyond me. I wouldn’t even know where to start.

“I’m sorry, Mother. I don’t know how to seduce.”

Her lips turn down. Her nose wrinkles in disdain. She turns and starts talking to her two associates.

My stomach twists. I hate disappointing her, even though it is impossible not to. And I know this incidence is deeply unfair. She never had my trainer teach me the art of seduction. She chose not to equip me with those skills when she designed my curriculum with intense attention to detail.

Yet still she has managed to make me feel guilty. As if all of this is my fault.

I take in a deep breath and drop my gaze to the floor. Time to be quiet and still until she requires me again .

She is unhappy with me, but we are alive, and confined to these beautiful rooms in the palace and not a dungeon. I think that is plenty to be grateful for.

“We need to fully satisfy the fey’s blood lust. Prove to them that we were hijacked and are very willing to make amends. We cannot merely execute Lord Coxley,” says Mother.

I shiver.

“We caught him,” says Lord Dunavon.

Mother scowls. “He didn’t even bother trying to run. He is not stupid. He simply dropped the gun and stood there. He allowed you to bind him with magic.”

Lord Dunavon flushes, but wisely he says nothing. He is Mother’s longest-standing follower. He understands his place.

Viscount Bellany coughs. “How about disembowelment? That’s a nice and bloody show. Should be entertaining for the fey.”

A queasy feeling rolls through me. I really hope Viscount Bellany’s experience comes from his passion for fox hunting and not from murdering humans.

Lord Dunavon’s expression turns thoughtful. Mother taps her lips.

She is seriously considering this? Unease itches along my skin. This is deeply unsettling. It is as if the foundations of the earth have shifted under my feet. I have been underestimating her determination. I didn’t realise she was this level of ruthless.

“I think that could do the trick. Especially since Prince Llywelyn is set to make a full recovery. ”

I blink. He didn’t die? An image flashes of all the gold spreading everywhere. The stiffness of his limbs. The feel of his spirit leaving.

I would have sworn that he had died. As I was watching. While that handsome man held him and sobbed as if his heart was breaking into a thousand splintered shards.

But the prince is going to be fine? Wow. I guess fey really are hard to kill.

Relief swells through me. I don’t like the thought of anyone being murdered, for any reason. I know it makes me soft, but I cannot help the way I am.

I’m glad the prince is okay. For reasons that have nothing to do with how much I personally have to gain from his wellbeing.

I wish someone had thought to tell me. It would have been nice to have known.

“Bellany, make arrangements.”

Viscount Bellany bows to Mother and hurries out of the room. To arrange for someone to be publicly disembowelled.

My stomach heaves. So I clench my fists and focus on my breathing.

“We need to offer more,” Mother says. “There needs to be no doubt in the fey’s minds of the sincerity of our apology.”

Lord Dunavon nods. “How about agreeing to some of the wedding customs we declined?”

Mother’s eyes light up. “Oh yes! We can agree to the public consummation! The fey are fond of public sex!”

A strange choking, whining noise escapes me. Mother turns to me and blinks, as if she had forgotten I was here.

“You may go to your room. ”

My bow is automatic. My feet know to leave. But I have to stop once I reach the small corridor. Where is my bedroom? Thankfully, recollection comes swirling back. I hurry to the unfamiliar bedchamber.

Another place that is not home. Goddess knows how long I will be staying here for. It was supposed to be just for the night of the engagement party, but I doubt the fey are going to let us go now.

I flop onto my back on the large fourposter bed. The large window is bringing in plenty of light. This room is decorated in golds and reds. The gold reminds me of Prince Llywelyn’s blood. Perhaps the red represents my own blood?

I shudder.

A public consummation? A wedding night in front of guests? Prince Selwyn taking my body and my magic in front of an audience?

My eyes sting and begin to water. I hate crying, but at least no one is here to witness my shame. Unlike my wedding night.

I raise my hands to cover my face, but then I’m yelping and scrambling up to a sitting position.

By the ornate fireplace, a door is opening. A door that I had no idea was there.

A dark-haired fey steps calmly into my bedroom. The secret door swings silently shut behind him.

I stare at Prince Dyfri while my heart races. He stares back at me with impossibly dark eyes. His half-unseelie heritage is startlingly clear.

“Did you try to kill my brother?”

I blink and try to remember how my lungs are supposed to work. “No! I thought Prince Selwyn believed me? ”

Dyfri rolls his dark eyes. “Selwyn is far too trusting.”

My mouth snaps shut. I really don’t think Selwyn is trusting at all. But his assertion that no one else can see how dangerous he is, is looking true enough. Even his own brother appears to believe he is harmless.

Dyfri reaches into the sleeve of his exquisite black robes and pulls out a vial. The substance inside is green, and glowing faintly.

“You will drink this.”

I lick my lips. “What is it?” I doubt he will tell me, but it’s worth a try.

“A truth serum.”

But that doesn’t mean he is telling the truth. It could be poison. I could be about to writhe on the floor and die in ?a way so agonising it makes Viscount Bellany’s disembowelment plans seem tame.

Dyfri steps towards me. I scramble off the bed and face him warily.

He holds out the vial to me.

I stare into his dark eyes. He isn’t offering any assurances. Or promises. Or platitudes. That makes me inclined to trust him.

I take the vial from him with slightly trembling fingers.

I unstopper it. The urge to smell it is strong, but pointless. I don’t have a clue what fey poisons smell like.

I take a deep breath. A painful death actually sounds slightly more appealing than a public consummation.

I gulp down the thick liquid. It tastes of nothing at all. I hand the vial back to Dyfri, who accepts it with a faint quirk of his eyebrow and something akin to respect in his eyes.

“Did you try to kill Prince Tristan? ”

I blink. “I thought it was Prince Llywelyn who was shot?”

A strange look flashes through Dyfri’s dark eyes. “Llywelyn jumped in the way. Tristan was the target.”

“Oh,” I say. “Nobody ever tells me anything. About anything. Ever. But I know my mother was not involved in this plot. She worships the fey. She spent her life trying to open the portals so you could come back. She thought you would share power, and she wants to rule the world.”

My hand clamps over my mouth. But the words still come.

“But really I know nothing. About anything. I never even went to school. The only thing I was taught was how to be a vessel.”

“What does that involve?” asks Dyfri.

I take a breath, and a whole new stream of words begins tumbling out of me. “Being obedient, mostly. Submissive. Seen and not heard.”

The next words flash in my mind, I desperately try to swallow them down and not speak them, but it’s no good.

“I was taught how to assume different positions for my husband's pleasure. Different ways to lie still while my husband takes me.”

Dyfri’s brow furrows. “They taught you how to take cock? I thought you were supposed to be all pure and untouched?”

“I am!” I protest vehemently. “The training was done with dildos!”

Dyfri stares at me. His expression has gone utterly blank. “You are very young, aren’t you?”

I bristle. “I am an adult! I am nineteen!”

“And when do humans become adults? ”

“Eighteen,” I mumble. “In most countries.”

Dyfri crosses his arms over his chest. There is a look of profound sadness in his eyes. Maybe he would have been the better choice of husband after all. He might be kinder than my first impressions thought. Maybe being unseelie is not so bad.

I squint and look at his pretty face. He is beautiful, whereas Selwyn is handsome. Dyfri’s long, loose raven-dark hair is stunning. He looks more like a vessel than a mage.

“Your hair is so pretty,” I coo.

Dyfri jolts. He steps forward and takes my arm and steers me back towards the bed.

“That’s enough truth serum. Time to sleep it off.”

“But it is pretty,” I pout as he tucks me into bed, even though I’m fully dressed. My shoes seem to have disappeared somewhere though, so that’s good.

Dyfri shakes his head wearily. “Do not comment on a rhocyn’s hair.”

“What’s a rhocyn?”

“Someone who has to wear their hair down.”

“Oh. It’s not a choice?”

Dyfri sighs. “About as much as your training was.”

I blink, and suddenly I am alone. The ceiling is swirling slightly. This truth serum is good stuff.

Living with the fey is going to be even stranger than I thought. Much, much stranger. And full of plots and loyalties and rules I do not know.

Heaven help me.