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Chapter twenty-five

T his is terrible. I’m stuck here, sitting on the floor, listening to Prys weave his web of deception while wrapping Llywelyn tighter and tighter in it.

I don’t think he is playing a long game. I think he intends to get Llywelyn into bed tonight. And it sounds like he is going to succeed.

Trying to think logically isn’t helping me at all. Llywelyn getting fucked by this bastard shouldn’t feel like the end of the world, but it does. It feels like an impending tragedy and atrocity and the very thought of it is making me feel like I’m going to combust.

I don’t want him to sleep with someone else because he thinks I don’t want him anymore. And I really don’t want Prys touching Llywelyn’s naked body, putting his grubby hands all over him.

Prys is cruel and self-serving. Llywelyn is vulnerable and nervous and sometimes shy. He doesn’t know what affection is. Allowing Prys to have him is abhorrent. I should be the only person who gets to see Llywelyn undone.

Wait. What the hell? Did that thought really cross my mind? I’m I really feeling possessive thoughts about Llywelyn? No, that can’t be right. My emotions are getting tangled up. I must be feeling protective because I know he is a grooming victim. The survivor of a predator.

That makes a lot more sense. Protective, not possessive.

Not that this distinction helps at all with coming up with a plan to keep Prys away from Llywelyn. I have a horrible feeling I’m going to have to do something stupid .

Just as my panic builds to a crescendo, Tae pads silently into the room. He unobtrusively clears some empty cups away from the table and lays a bowl of fruit out. He drops a teaspoon on the floor and kneels down beside me to retrieve it. His green eyes flash at me with concern.

He is worried too. It is not just me losing my mind and being irrational. Oh god, that’s not a comfort at all. I’d much rather be losing my mind if it meant Llywelyn was safe.

“We need to do something,” I whisper.

He bites his bottom lip.

“Any ideas?” I plead. Because I’m drawing blanks.

He stares at me for a moment, then he nods sharply and scurries out of the room. I stare after him while my stomach clenches tighter and tighter. Oh god, please let Tae be able to do something.

“So, Your Highness. Are you going to invite me to your bed?” purrs Prys.

The words ooze over me. I swear to god I nearly growl in response.

“I…um… maybe,” replies Llywelyn, the uncertainty clear in his voice.

Oh sweet baby. He doesn’t even know how to flirt. This is terrible.

Prys leans closer. “If you liked me, you would.”

Suddenly the doors fling open, hard enough to make me flinch. Swift enough to make Prys recoil and move away from Llywelyn.

I sigh in relief as Prince Selwyn strides in. His horns look more prominent than usual and there is a dangerous gleam in his brown eyes.

“Ah! Tea! How perfect! I am parched!” he exclaims as he invites himself to join Llywelyn and Prys at the table.

I keep my head down and listen to the sound of tea being poured. Selwyn launches into a monologue about the plants he is trying to grow, and the varying levels of success he is having .

It is so hard not to grin. Talk about cock-blocking. It is perfect. Selwyn is playing the affable, clueless big brother role perfectly.

But I’m not fooled. Not in the least. This here is a very dangerous man. Shrewd. Calculating. His good-natured act is nothing more than a thin veneer. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. I really, really hope he is on Llywelyn’s side.

“Oh, Your Grace!” Selwyn says brightly. “With your means, you must be an expert at growing your own herb mixtures for hookah! Any tips?”

Prys splutters, but the prince’s passive aggressive insult was so perfectly done, there really is nothing he can say. Selwyn just called him impoverished, and there is not a thing he can do about it.

I could kiss Selwyn. Even if he is a wolf.

Silks swirl above me as Prys gets to his feet. He mumbles a hasty excuse and turns to leave. Tae shows him out and the door clicks firmly behind him.

I have never heard a more beautiful sound in my life. But before I can say a word, or climb to my feet, Llywelyn jumps up and storms off to his bedchamber. The door slams behind him. So hard I swear I hear something crack.

I get to my feet. Shit, I really am getting old. I’m dangerously stiff, just from sitting on the floor for a couple of hours.

Brown eyes meet my gaze and hold it. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.

“What the fuck is going on?” demands Prince Selwyn.

I have a sudden, childish urge to look for Tae, but he seems to have vanished. Leaving me all alone with Selwyn. Which is only fair, I suppose. Tae did go and get the man. The rest is up to me.

“Sit,” says Selwyn, tilting his head to the chair Llywelyn was just sitting in.

Numbly, I obey.

“Talk,” says Selwyn as he pushes a cup of tea over to me .

I pick it up and take a sip. I can do this. Everything is fine. I’m good at thinking on my feet and weaving tales that best suit me and my motives.

“Prince Llywelyn and I were getting close,” I say. “Closer than just pet and master.”

Selwyn’s brown eyes are utterly unreadable. I shake off the discomfort and continue.

“Last night he was upset, and I thought he needed to be alone, but he didn’t. He needed me and I stayed away, so he assumed my feelings had changed.”

I take another sip of tea while Selwyn scrutinises every twitch of my face.

“Prys somehow picked up that it was a good time to swoop in.”

I exhale carefully. It is as close to the truth as I dare to give. Therefore, completely plausible. Lies that are nearly the truth, are the easiest ones to get away with.

Selwyn slowly picks up his teacup. He takes a long, careful drink of his tea, while his eyes never once leave mine. I don’t think he has even blinked since he first locked eyes with me.

“No, it is more than that,” he says calmly.

Fuck.

I can’t let him figure out I’m an agent, or that Llywelyn wants his brother’s throne. Not until I am one hundred per cent certain Selwyn will back the power grab. And at the moment, I know next to nothing about this man. Except that he is dangerous.

My heart is beating too fast, and my palms are sweating. What else can I give him? I need something juicy I can throw down, like giving a haunch of meat to a lion so you can escape the cage.

I swallow. “Llywelyn has omega traits. His moods have been… intense. I think something is going on. Tae found a book, but I can’t read fey.”

I’m going to feel shitty later for spilling Llywelyn’s secret, but it is far better than the alternative.

Selwyn’s eyes narrow. “Let me see this book. ”

If he is surprised about his brother having omega traits, he isn’t showing it. And his request is reasonable enough. And precisely why sticking as close to the truth as possible is always the best bet. Because, now I have a book to back up my claim. If I had been fabricating stories out of thin air, I’d have nothing.

I nod and head towards the bedchamber. I’ll just quietly slip in, grab the book and slip out.

Carefully, I open the door. Just wide enough to ease through. It swings softly shut behind me. Leaving me confronted with the sight of Llywelyn curled up impossibly small on the bed. He isn’t crying. He isn’t doing anything. He is just laying there on top of the covers, a tiny ball of misery.

I can’t bear it. I just can’t. I have seen many awful things in the line of duty, but this is by far the worst.

“Hey,” I say softly as I step towards him.

Silence.

“I’m sorry I stayed away last night. I thought you needed space.”

I step right up to the bed and brush golden hair away from his eyes. He blinks up at me. I watch as a tentative, flickering flame of hope ignites deep in his beautiful eyes.

Suddenly, he is moving and I’m instinctively stepping back. He falls to his knees on the floor and wraps his arms around my waist. He turns his face and presses his cheek against my stomach.

“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please don’t cast me off. Please don’t leave me. I’ll do anything you want. Anything at all.”

His arms tighten around me desperately, and I can’t move at all. I can only see the top of his head and all of his choppy spun-sunlight hair.

He continues to babble, but my mind is no longer processing words. It is too busy filling up with pain and sorrow.

A noise has me snapping my head up. Selwyn is standing quietly in the open doorway. His eyes fixed on his kneeling, pleading brother .

Selwyn tears his gaze away from Llywelyn and glares at me with the most frightening look I have ever seen in my life. For a moment, it feels like my bowels are going to give up all hope, but miraculously they rally.

Selwyn draws in a sharp breath, more of a hiss than anything else.

“What have you done to my brother?”