Page 68 of Fey Sovereignty

It’s interesting that he believes that. Llywelyn’s past truly is a well kept secret. Mabon leans over and fills my teacup. My eyebrows rise and my lungs inhale sharply. I don’t think I’ve ever been so flattered.

Llywelyn sits up straight. “What has Selwyn been saying?”

I wince. Yeah, Selwyn was being an asshole at the family lunch, and he knows all about Llywelyn’s omega traits.

Mabon claps his hands together in glee, sending his many silver bracelets jangling. “So it is true! You are riding your magnificent pet!”

“No!” snaps Llywelyn. “I didn’t saythat!”

“It is nothing to be ashamed about,” says Mabon. “Everyone knows Blake rails me every day.”

That’s a mental image that’s going to haunt me, as well as a fact that I didn’t need to know. Not that I’m at all surprised.

Llywelyn glowers. “I wouldn’t let a mere human do that to me.”

The words don’t sting. I know he is fully in his douchebag persona right now. Interestingly, Mabon doesn’t appear offended either. He is simply regarding Llywelyn with a scrutinising expression. As if he is trying to peer inside his brother and see the truth.

“Was it Dyfri who said something?” Llywelyn asks in a voice that is too small.

Mabon’s amethyst eyes widen, then he smirks.

Oh crap, I had all but forgotten about Dyfri catching us with my cock down Llywelyn’s throat.

Llywelyn’s shoulders slump and he looks down at the pristine white tablecloth.

Mabon’s expression softens. “Nobody has breathed a word. You have not been betrayed. I simply have eyes.”

Llywelyn perks up at Mabon’s reassurance. But he still looks sulky.

“Now, what’s this business with Prys?” says Mabon.

I give the lilac haired prince a suspicious look. Is he simply one of those flighty people who innocently jump from topic to topic? Or, was that all calculated to throw Llywelyn off balance?

Llywelyn picks up his cup. “It’s nothing. I can handle it.”

Mabon turns to me. “See what I have to put up with?”

I nod in commiseration, and Mabon chuckles. But then his expression turns serious and he fixes his brother with a no nonsense look.

“He wants to defeat you?”

Llywelyn carefully sips his tea. Then he nods.

He is not daft. It’s enough to make me proud. Llywelyn has drawn the same conclusion that I have recently come to. Prysdoesn’t fancy him. He is not in love or lust. He is not trying to get my prince into bed for any straightforward reason. It is something far more sinister.

Mabon lets out a little growl. “Jamie is right. Prys has to go.”

Llywelyn looks up, surprise clear in his eyes. The sight of it causes a physical ache in my heart. He should not be shocked that his brother is angry on his behalf.

“Prys goes for Dyfri and you,” continues Mabon. “How dare he mess with the royal family!”

Llywelyn says nothing. He turns his attention to his tea and the plate of tiny cakes that Tae set out. Mabon doesn’t seem to mind. He simply settles in his chair and drinks his tea, allowing a companionable silence to fall.

I reach for a cake. Trying to resist is futile. The pink ones are especially delicious. It is a wonder that I haven’t put on any weight since I’ve been here.

Tae unobtrusively approaches the table and adds a jug of water and some glasses. He hurries away and Mabon watches him.

“There is a servant that Prys cast out after cutting her hand off,” Mabon says nonchalantly.