Page 35 of Fey Sovereignty (Fey Lords #4)

Chapter thirty-five

L lywelyn looks tiny, tucked up in the middle of his enormous bed. He is dwarfed by pillows and quilts. Pale in the mid-morning light. He looks frail, but not at all bad for someone who died yesterday. I need to hang onto that.

Amongst all the visitors, there has been a flurry of healers coming and going. Every single one of them has stated confidence that Llywelyn will make a full recovery, as long as he rests.

Our little story that I pulled the bullet out and then Dyfri and Selwyn used their magic to heal him, is holding up. So far, no one has questioned it.

Everything is fine. I can stop fretting. I can stop sitting here by his bedside, holding his hand. But I don’t want to. I’m still far too strung out to sleep, and there’s no way I’m going as far as the shower, where the water will mask all sounds of another attack.

So I’m staying by his side. For as long as it takes.

Right now, Tae is showing a pair of healers out, and we might actually get a few moments alone. That would be lovely.

However, my hopes are dashed when I hear raised voices coming from the sitting room.

“Show your teeth all you like, little dude. I’m coming in!”

There is a rustle of movement and then Ollie strides into the bedchamber with Tae all but hanging off his arm.

Ollie’s green eyes are wide and frantic. The look of a man who hasn’t slept.

“Finally!” he exclaims. “I’ve been trying to get in since yesterday! ”

I give Llywelyn a quick look. Does he want me to get rid of his brother’s pet? Llywelyn’s expression is calm. Mildly curious, if anything. So I stay in my place by his side. Content to let the events unfold.

Tae also sees Llywelyn’s expression, and he releases Ollie with a little growl before stomping off to the sitting room.

Ollie takes a deep breath. “I can sense threats, but I couldn’t move fast enough to do anything.” He pauses and his bright eyes water. “Thank you for saving Tristan.”

Llywelyn blinks. He gives a slight nod of his head.

Ollie exhales, all in a rush. “Thank you so very much. I suspected that you weren’t really an asshole. I should have listened to my instincts. He cut off your hair, and you still saved him!”

He wipes his eyes angrily. “Thank you. Really, truly thank you. And I know what thanks mean. I’m saying thank you in a fey way!”

Of course. Giving thanks is an admission that a debt is owed. It is more or less giving a favour.

Suddenly, Tristan bursts into the room at such a speed his red hair is flying out behind him.

“Ollie!” he says, then his feet grind to a halt and his ruby eyes fix on Llywelyn.

The room falls silent. Expectant and heavy. As if time itself is holding its breath. Tension thickens the air.

Slowly, Tristan flows into a graceful bow. Waist deep. The lowest a prince should ever go. As he bows, he keeps his eyes fixed on his brother.

“You have my deepest thanks, Brother.”

Llywelyn nods regally. But I’m close enough to see the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Llywelyn needs his rest!” I snap.

“Of course!” agrees Tristan hastily, and he grabs his pet’s arm and turns him around.

“If you died, I never would have forgiven you!” scolds Ollie with passion as he whacks his prince on the back .

Then they are through the door and out of sight. But Tristan’s deep voice carries.

“I know, my love,” he says patiently.

I turn to Llywelyn with a grin and startle when I find him staring at me intensely. Then it hits me. We are finally, truly alone. For the first time since he came back to life. There have been odd moments here and there, but this feels different. No one is due for hours and I don’t think Tae is going to let any more stray callers in. We really are alone.

I swallow and squeeze his hand.

“You don’t love me,” he says softly.

The quietly spoken words hit me like a sledgehammer. Rendering me incapable of thought.

“What? Yes I do!” I somehow manage to splutter. Where has this come from? What is going on? How can he believe such a thing?

“You don’t. You can’t. You don’t even know me. Not the real me,” he says sadly.

His golden eyes look away, taking their dazzling brightness and leaving me cold.

I let the words settle for a moment. I sit with them as they start to make sense. He is feeling insecure. Unconfident. And that’s fine. It is almost to be expected. He has been through a lot.

Llywelyn tentatively returns his gaze, and I look deep into his eyes. I can see his love for me. But I know how to look. I also have the advantage of hearing him say it with his dying breath. Deathbed confessions ring true.

It’s not the same as me flinging it at him while he was mortally injured in my arms. He could be putting it down to stupid things people say in the heat of the moment.

Llywelyn needs my reassurance.

“Then show me who you are,” I say gently. I hope he can see in my eyes that there is nothing he can say that is going to change the way I feel about him .

“It seems, with the whole dying thing, that it is time for a confession,” he says warily.

I nod and wait patiently for him to continue.

Llywelyn takes a deep breath. “I don’t want the throne. I’ve never wanted it.”

My mind goes perfectly white. Blank. Empty. As devoid of thoughts as a patch of freshly fallen snow.

I can’t see him now. His head is bowed. His fingers fidgeting in the bedcovers.

Carefully, my fingers fit under his chin and I tilt his face towards me so I can search his eyes for the truth. He meets my gaze reluctantly.

He licks his lips. “When your people approached me, I thought it was a good idea to keep them busy. Waste their time. Stop them from working on another, more fruitful, plan.”

Long moments pass. Seconds, minutes, centuries, I have no idea. Eventually, the power of speech returns to me.

“Keep your enemies close,” I croak

Llywelyn winces. “Precisely. I’ve... I’ve been playing you. I was never going to let you succeed.”

More silence. I can hear the blood rushing in my ears.

I try to speak, but nothing comes out. I cough and try again.

“You invited an agent into your home, and into your bed, to distract them and keep Rhydian safe?”

Llywelyn tries to look away, but I don’t release my hold on his chin. He shrinks against the bed and answers me in a trembling voice.

“Yes. I... I never imagined you’d be.... nice. That I’d like you.” He swallows audibly.

I blink. And then I blink again. I release his chin and lean back in my chair.

“Everything else is true? Iestyn? The omega stuff? Dyfri?”

He winces again. Then he nods. He flashes me a wide-eyed look before dropping his gaze back to his quilt covered lap .

How do I even start processing this? Where do I begin? What does it mean for the mission? What protocol do I need to follow? How do I feel about this?

I take a deep, shuddering breath. Screw the fucking Agency. Screw the mission. At least for a moment. How do I feel about this? That’s the only thing I want to figure out right now.

The man I love has just told me he has been one step ahead of me the whole time. Everything we have been working on together is a lie.

My thoughts whirl. My heart pounds. My soul pulses.

I place all the puzzle pieces together. I examine it from different angles. And slowly, like magic, everything starts to make sense. It sparkles. It fucking glows.

“You are telling me you are loyal to your family?” I check, because old habits die hard.

“Yes,” he says sadly, and then he bites his bottom lip.

It starts deep inside me. Somewhere near my soul. It gathers and grows. It builds until it bubbles out of me and I’m laughing. My lungs are heaving and tears are rolling down my cheeks. I’m laughing and laughing and I cannot stop.

As I wipe my eyes, Llywelyn swims into focus. His face is pale with concern. Eyes bright with alarm. His hand is frozen halfway to the call bell. I don’t blame him. I do sound like I’ve lost my mind.

His reaction sobers me enough to enable me to talk.

“I loved you when I thought you were a back-stabbing snake,” I wheeze.

Llywelyn still looks worried. He doesn’t understand, probably because I’m not making any sense.

I clench my fists tightly. Hard enough that my blunt fingernails dig into my palm. The pain helps me to pull myself together and stop my hysterical laughter. I take one last steady breath.

“But you are actually sweet, and fiercely loyal, and willing to do all of that and sacrifice yourself for your family? ”

He gives me a tentative, uncertain nod. I reclaim his hand and squeeze it tightly.

“You will never get rid of me now.” I smile. “I should have trusted my heart. It was always trying to tell me that you are a good person.”

He stares at me for several heartbeats. “You are not angry?”

More laughter bubbles out of me, but I cut it short. “Angry that you are noble and self-sacrificing and put others above yourself? The bravest fucking person I have ever met?”

He frowns, still not understanding.

“You gave your all. To people who gave you nothing in return.”

I run my finger along the smooth skin of his cheek and tuck a lock of hair back behind his ear.

“I fell in love with you when I thought you were a power hungry, selfish asshole.”

He blinks at me.

“Now I know you are beautiful, sexy, sweet and don’t have an evil bone in your body… I love you even more.”

“You… still love me?” he stutters as a pink blush spreads along his cheekbones.

“I love you, Prince Llywelyn Y Mabinogi,” I say solemnly. Just to be perfectly clear.

His golden eyes grow brighter. Dazzling enough to blind. Then he moves. His head lifts up, off the pillows, and his soft lips press against mine. Honey and warmth. Affection and love.

My heart thumps. It feels like it is dancing in my chest. It feels like it is pumping joy through my veins instead of love. I close my eyes, and kiss my prince.