Page 18

Chapter eighteen

L lywelyn’s study is cosy and quiet. I’m so glad he has let me use it. This huge mahogany desk is perfect for spreading out all my notes and making my version of a murder board. Seeing everything lain out, certainly helps with clarity.

I stare at all the pieces of paper. Drawings and writing combined. The fey court is complicated, not that I was expecting anything less.

However, my eyes keep returning to the left-hand side of the desk. The space I’m using to ponder the enigma that is Iestyn. And I really don’t know if I should be devoting this much time to him.

On one hand, he clearly is a master player. I’m wary to make any move that he might already be planning for. And this Unseelie King sounds dangerous. There would be no point in putting Llywelyn on the throne, only to be toppled the next day.

On the other hand, Llywelyn talks about Iestyn in the past tense and I get the distinct impression he is no longer around. Either here or back in the fey lands. And it is impossible to untangle my emotions from all of this. I’ve always despised abusers, and Llywelyn… well, my feelings for him are a complicated mess.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I should ask Llywelyn to tell me exactly where Iestyn is, even though I know I will not get a straight answer. Llywelyn doesn’t even know that I know Iestyn’s name, and something is telling me to keep that secret close to my chest.

I run my hands over my face. Okay, time for a break. I’ll pop to the loo and then see if Tae has left any snacks out .

My feet take me through a couple of rooms, heading for the small bathroom adjacent to Llywelyn’s bedchamber that I have adopted as my own.

As I step into the bedchamber, I startle. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in it. But Llywelyn is standing on the far side of the bed, a silhouette against the bright window. He is motionless. Holding a pair of what looks like my pyjama trousers to his nose, and inhaling deeply with his eyes closed.

I stare in complete bewilderment. The sunlight is making his golden hair gleam brightly. He looks ethereally beautiful, while sniffing my dirty laundry. It is incongruous. As well as confusing.

Suddenly he startles. His eyes snap open and the pyjama trousers disappear behind his back. He stares at me wide-eyed. He has to know I saw everything?

He swallows audibly. “I…um… your scent is very pleasing.”

“Okay,” I say as I nod slowly. Even though I’m not sure if it is. Is this normal fey behaviour? I have no idea. Maybe I should find someone to ask. For all I know, Llywelyn could be crazy, and everything I am learning from him is deeply unhinged.

With that sobering thought, I turn and walk into the bathroom. I do my business, wash and dry my hands. When I open the door, I’m surprised to see Llywelyn waiting for me. I thought he would have taken the opportunity to run away.

He licks his very pink lips. “May I sit in with you? I won’t make a sound, or disturb you.”

My brow furrows. “You just want to sit and watch me work?”

He nods enthusiastically. There is an odd brightness to his eyes that I’m not sure should be there. Has he been drinking again? Or smoking?

The silent, imploring plea in his gorgeous eyes makes my heart go all strange and fluttery. I swallow dryly.

“Okay,” I say, because it can’t do any harm .

His whole face lights up. Like I have just given him a precious gift. It is hard to tear my gaze away. It is damn nice to be stared at adoringly. I could lap it up all day.

Reluctantly, I look away and start striding towards the study. Llywelyn follows close behind. What has got into him? He is acting as if he can’t bear to be apart from me.

My stomach flips itself over into a painful knot. He cried quietly for hours last night while I held him. He cried about the awful thing he believes he did to his brother. He cried about his own awful night with the Unseelie King. At least, I hope that some of his tears were for himself.

But regardless, he was very upset. He shared a burden he had been carrying for years. And I comforted him. Absolved him. And… I don’t think anyone has ever been nice to Prince Llywelyn Y Mabinogi before. Fourth born son out of six. Raised by nannies. A victim of awkward middle child syndrome. Too young for the older siblings, too old for the youngest. The forgotten middle.

I have already figured out that he is desperate to be loved. Hungry for any sort of attention.

Fuck. There is something else to consider, as well as all of that. I’m pretty sure I’ve given him the first decent sex of his life. After years of abuse and manipulation.

Memories of our shared shower pour through me in glorious technicolour, with full surround sound. Okay, that wasn’t decent sex. That was incredible sex. But there is no need to preen about it. I need to focus on its effect.

Oh god. Adding everything together, it wouldn’t be surprising if Llywelyn has latched onto me. Become a little infatuated.

My heart thumps with glee and my chest puffs out.

What the hell? What is wrong with me? This isn’t at all a good thing.

I reach the study and slump down in my chair. Llywelyn quietly sits in the window seat behind me. He seems to be intent on keeping his promise not to be a distraction .

I grip the edge of the desk tight enough to whiten my knuckles. I have to focus. If Llywelyn is infatuated with me, then that is great for the mission. He will do exactly as I say. He will trust me.

So I need to put aside the morals of it and my own personal feelings about it. Right now, I need to figure out all this stuff on the desk in front of me. Who will support Llywelyn’s bid to become crown prince? Who will oppose it? Who needs to be eliminated and who needs to be bribed?

There is so much work to be done. I can’t waste time on squishy things like emotions.

I draw in a big breath through my nose and as I exhale, I let go of everything. There is only the mission. My work is the only thing that matters.

Several hours later, I realise my stomach is grumbling. I forgot to get snacks earlier. Now night has fallen. I look over my shoulder and see Llywelyn curled up on his side, using his arm as a pillow. He is fast asleep.

I grab the throw from the settee and gently place it over him. Then I stride out into the main room in search of food.

There is a cheery fire burning away in the fireplace, and an abundance of lit candles scattered around. The table by the window is set with grapes and slices of cold meat. My stomach rumbles in appreciation. That will do nicely until dinnertime.

I take a step towards the table, and then jump as the door flies open and Llywelyn hurries in. There is a near frantic look in his eyes.

“Please don’t leave me!” he wails.

I open my mouth to explain that I was just getting some food, when he runs over to me and gracefully drops to his knees.

He pulls on a tie at my waist, and suddenly my cock is free. I stare down and try to form a single coherent thought.

I should step backwards. I should push him away. I should do something.

But the moment to act is lost. My cock is surrounded in tight, wet heat. My head falls back and I groan.

Oh, my god. Llywelyn may have never received a blow job before, but he has definitely given them. My eyes close as waves of exquisite pleasure wash over me. I swear nothing has ever felt so good. I’m already about to cum and I’m not even embarrassed. The only thing going through my mind, along with the intense joy, is wondering how to get Llywelyn to do this to me every day.

Pleasure surges and swirls. Fireworks ignite in my mind. My lust has gone from zero to one hundred in less than a heartbeat, and it is exhilarating.

I groan again. Then he does something with his tongue and suddenly I’m cumming. Grunting as my cock pumps thick ropes of cum down the prince’s throat.

My eyes open and meet the unflinching gaze of a dark pair of eyes. Dyfri is standing silently by the table. Watching us.

I yelp and stagger a step backwards, pulling my cock from Llywelyn’s mouth. As I hastily figure out how to tuck myself away, Llywelyn flows effortlessly to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he rises.

“I’m evading Jamie,” says Dyfri calmly. As if he didn’t just see what he saw. “And Blake. And even Ollie. They have all been knocking on my door demanding to know if I’m alright.”

He uses an unfamiliar gesture as he says, ‘alright,’ but my brain has no problem at all in interpreting it as the fey equivalent of air quotes.

“And are you alright?” I ask.

Dyfri rolls his dark eyes and mutters, “Humans,” under his breath.

I hold his gaze.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he snaps.

“Prys…” Llywelyn begins to say but is cut off by Dyfri dismissively waving his hand .

“Has a small prick that I barely felt.” Dyfri takes a seat at the table and helps himself to a small bunch of grapes. “I came here for refuge, not more of the same.”

“Apologies, Brother,” says Llywelyn as he takes a seat across from Dyfri. “Have you heard the news about Lady Freyanogi being with child?”

The pair start to gossip. As if they have no other cares in the world. As if Llywelyn wasn’t just caught with his pet’s cock down his throat. As if Llywelyn never betrayed Dyfri in the worst possible way.

Numbly, I take a seat next to Llywelyn. My thoughts are whirling. I’m not even feeling awkward about being caught in the act. I’m not angsting over the implications of Llywelyn’s sudden desperate need to blow me, though I’m sure that will come later.

No, despite everything that is going on, seeing Dyfri has ignited a wildfire of feelings that are burning all other thoughts from my mind.

Dyfri snaps his fingers in the air and Tae appears seemingly out of nowhere.

“Rooibus tea, if you would, Tae,” says Dyfri.

The little one-winged fairy bows and scurries off. My heart sinks low and heavy. Falling even further than it did the minute Dyfri’s eyes met mine. Oh god, Dyfri knows the names of servants, even ones that are not his.

I pick up a plate and serve myself some chicken. But my appetite has gone. Sitting here is awful. Dyfri is a good person. Clever and cunning and very fey, but absolutely a good person. I had already come to that conclusion. Witnessing further evidence is just adding to the burn of the shame I am feeling. The shame and tremendous, uncomfortable guilt.

Dyfri doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know what Llywelyn did to him.

He is sitting here chatting happily to his brother, and he doesn’t know .

Sure, Llywelyn was manipulated and used, but he still did what he did. And now he is having tea and behaving as if he doesn’t have a guilty bone in his body. As if he didn’t help arrange for Dyfri to be made a rhocyn. A fate and a burden that his little brother suffers from every day. A horrendous act that has shaped Dyfri’s entire life.

I’m not sure I can stand it. I feel suffocated by the weight of this secret. My life has been nothing but secrets. My career has been carved from them. But this one is crushing me.

What the fuck am I going to do?