Page 53 of Fey Empire

He is saying words. I know he is. I’m even pretty sure he is speaking directly in English, so I can’t even blame the translator. It’s just my stupid mind that is failing to understand. Of course a vessel needs to take a cock in order to give up their magic. It is one of the fundamental principles of my very existence. I must be misunderstanding what he is trying to say, but I cannot figure out for the life of me what else he is implying.

“Time runs differently here,” says Selwyn. “A vessel’s magic ripens differently. If you stay here, we can wait until you are ready.”

He stares down at me. I blink up at him.

“Laurie, on Earth you will be ripe again very soon.”

Oh. He doesn’t want to fuck me. That is what he is talking about. He is going to abandon me in a strange world so he doesn’t have to take me again.

My stomach twists painfully. My eyes threaten to water. I had no idea I had done so badly. I thought he had enjoyed our wedding night.

He shifts the cloth under his arm. “Come, let’s see how Loo-loo is faring.”

He strides past me, and out of the stone circle. I stand stupidly for a moment before running after him. I really, truly, do not want to be alone here.

We walk down a path that meanders through the gnarled and ancient trees. A small flower-strewn cottagecomes into view. Picture perfect with stone walls and a thick thatched roof.

I force a swallow down my throat. It is beautiful, but I hate it.

It is where Selwyn is going to dump me.

Chapter eighteen

Selwyn lopes purposefully towards the cottage. There is no other choice but to continue hurrying after him. If I slow down at all, I might get lost.

Suddenly, I startle as a man appears, walking around the side of the cottage, carrying a wooden bucket. He sees us, drops the bucket, and rushes over to stand in the gateway of the cottage’s garden, blocking Selwyn’s path.

The man looks human, and as I stare at him, I realise I have seen him before. This is the man who held Llywelyn in his arms after the prince had been shot. The same man who scooped the prince up into a bridal carry after he stabbed the blue-haired noble. This is Llywelyn’s pet, although he is not wearing a collar now.

I didn’t think anyone had been banished along with Llywelyn? But Selwyn doesn’t seem at all surprised to see him.

“Greetings!” Selwyn says affably. “I have brought a gift. Food is easy to hunt or grow, but cloth is difficult to weave, and expensive to buy.”

The human stares longingly at the bolts of cloth in Selwyn’s arms. He licks his lips. His clothes are clean, but they do look very tatty.

Selwyn holds out the cloth. The human doesn’t take it. He doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t move, either. Let alone invite us in. His dark eyes are stern and unflinching. Why doesn’t he want Selwyn to be here?

The cottage door opens. Llywelyn stands, framing the crooked doorway. His white robes are far simpler than anything I’ve seen at court. And his horns are gone.

Holy goddess. Is that part of his punishment? That has to be awful.

My gaze tracks over where his horns should be. And then down the long golden plait that is in front of his shoulder and weaving down to near the top of his stomach.

I blink. He had short hair a little over a month ago. Not even to his jaw.

My stomach twists uneasily.“Time runs differently here,”Selwyn said.

That certainly seems to be true. How long has it been for Llywelyn and his former pet? How long have they been in exile?

“They can come in,” Llywelyn says softly.

The human nods, takes the bolts of cloth, and steps aside. Selwyn walks forward almost jauntily. As if he is completely oblivious to the hostility in the air.

I swallow and lower my head as I follow Selwyn up the garden path. The human steps behind me, and I shudder.

We enter the cottage, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the shade after the bright summer sun.