Page 40 of Fey Sovereignty (Fey Lords #4)

R hydian is blocking my view. He is standing in front of me. Preventing me from staring at the spot where Llywelyn disappeared. I need to keep looking at it, in case my eyes admit they are lying and he is still there. Or in case he reappears.

“Ethan,” Rhydian says sternly.

I blink. I guess I shouldn’t ignore the crown prince. The man I was supposed to defeat, but who has instead destroyed me.

My focus comes slowly. The throne room is nearly empty. It is only me, Rhydian, and Dyfri. The three of us standing in a small circle beside the unremarkable flagstone Llywelyn was last standing on.

I look at Rhydian. I have no idea what he has been saying.

He frowns. “Do you wish for a new master, or to leave court?”

My leash clinks softly, its soft leather handle lying forlornly on the floor. It is an effort to tear my gaze away from it.

“I can just leave?”

After everything, they are simply going to allow me to walk out of here?

“Yes,” says Rhydian.

“That sounds great,” I say weakly.

I think about returning to Llywelyn’s rooms to pack my things, but I don’t have any things. Just a few changes of court robes. And I won’t be needing those anymore. I came here with nothing. I’ll be leaving with even less.

Dyfri steps up to me. I stare at him dumbly. His fingers go to my collar. Oh, that is what he is doing .

I watch his dark eyes. I see an eyebrow rise. My mind moves like treacle. Oh, he has seen my necklace, tucked under my silks.

The collar snaps open, and Dyfri steps back with it. He flashes me a strange look. I think it is a relieved look. Almost pleased. I’m far too dazed to process it. But deep in my mind, thoughts begin to click and whirl. There are riddles and puzzle pieces to decipher, and I’ve always enjoyed those.

I leave my subconscious to it. And I think instead of Llywelyn’s empty rooms. Rooms that neither he nor I will ever return to.

“Will you hire Tae?” I blurt at Dyfri.

He nods solemnly. “I will.”

My lungs manage a shaky breath. I turn on my heels and I walk. Out of the throne room. Out of Buckingham Palace. I walk and walk. I’m barefoot in the middle of London, wearing imperial purple silk robes. I keep on walking.

I find a car to steal, and then I’m driving. My mind still as blank as before. It’s a good thing The Agency trained me so very highly in driving skills. I’m pretty sure I can drive in my sleep. I don’t need to attempt the insurmountable task of pulling myself together. I can simply drive. Drive and not think.

As London falls away behind me and the cityscape slowly morphs into countryside, thoughts start to flicker back to life.

I think about how very effectively Llywelyn has been removed from the board, and me along with him. I thought I was playing the game, but all along I’ve simply been a piece in someone else’s way. Llywelyn’s destiny was to be a side character in someone else’s story.

I thought he was the main character. I thought I was one too. But the truth is, I’m a nothing and a nobody. And Llywelyn is only ever going to be a footnote in the history books.

I’m truly nothing now. No longer in the game. I guess that means I’m never going to have my strings pulled again. I’m no longer a puppet. I have no use. There is no need to manipulate me, control me. I’m no one’s enemy. No one’s ally .

Does this mean I’m free? For the first time in my life?

I’m not sure how I feel about that. So I just drive. And drive.

Slowly, it dawns on me that I’m going somewhere. I’m not simply aimlessly travelling. While most of me has been numb, part of my mind has been working and it has given me somewhere to go, something to try.

A sob escapes me. This doesn’t feel like hope. It feels like further torment.

I have one destination in mind. After that… I can’t even think about it. I’m nowhere ready to process that.

There is the destination, and nothing else.

The necklace around my necks seems to grow heavier. As if it is aware of the weight of expectation I am putting on it. Maybe it is. Who knows? It is a fey piece of jewellery, it could be capable of anything.

I draw in a jagged breath and fight the urge to pray for the necklace to be capable of the one thing I want it to be.

Let it be true. Let the words Llywelyn spoke be really a riddle that I didn’t fathom until Dyfri gave me that look as he removed my collar.

Please don’t let me be clutching at straws.

Please don’t let me be foolishly clinging to fragments and misinterpreting what Llywelyn said to me. I really don’t think I could cope with another loss. I’m pretty sure I’m already shattered, it’s just taking a while for all my pieces to fall apart.

I drive and drive. I don’t dare to hope.

The tiny car park is empty, and the sun is setting when I arrive at my destination. I get out of the car and start walking. I don’t even bother to shut the car door behind me. The car pings at me as I walk away.

I follow the path across a field and into the woods. The dirt path twists into a clearing and I stop .

The stone circle isn’t a very impressive one. A dozen stones, around my height. It’s a public monument and gets some tourists, but nothing like Stonehenge or Avebury.

But this is the name Llywelyn whispered to me as he placed gold around my neck. I thought it was a poem. I hope it was a riddle.

My hand wraps around my necklace. If I don’t move now, I never will.

My feet step forward. One step, two steps, three.

I’m in the stone circle. My lungs freeze. My heart pauses.

Nothing happens.

A choking noise sticks in my throat. My head spins. My heart breaks.

And the world shifts. A bright swirl of colour and a defying of gravity, and from one blink to the next, I’m somewhere else.

The stone circle is exactly the same. Exactly. The same stones with the same pock marks. Standing in the exact same configuration. Still surrounded by trees. Still in a clearing in the woods.

But these are different woods. And it is morning here. And it appears to be midsummer, instead of the late spring I left behind on Earth.

Dazedly, I look around. The sky is achingly blue. The grass verdant green. Soft and lush. A cacophony of bird song is filling the fresh, sweet smelling air. I can see flashes of brightly coloured feathers darting between the majestic trees.

The sun is warm, as well as bright. A glorious summer day. Somewhere nearby, a stream is babbling merrily.

There is no distant roar of traffic. No hum of industry. The blue sky is free from airplane trails.

I breathe in a deep lungful of clean, crisp air and my heart starts to beat properly for the first time since I watched Llywelyn disappear.

It is beautiful here. Heaven. Paradise, and Nirvana. This is the place that must have inspired all those tales .

As I take in my surroundings, I see a ruined building tucked into the tree line. Crumbling stone and an arched window that only looks out at more trees. It was grand once, now it is empty and forgotten. I chuckle dryly. As a monument, it is very fitting.

I take another deep breath. I’m here. I think I can dare to hope.

A glimpse of movement in the trees catches my attention. Someone is approaching along the path that leads up to the stone circle, and up to me.

My breath hitches. I see white silks, but it is a simple robe. Almost nothing like court finery. It might not be him. Then I see golden hair like spun sunlight, and I forget how to breathe.

Llywelyn steps out of the shadow of the trees, into the clearing. He sees me and then he is running. He jumps into my arms and I sob as I hold him tight. I feel the warm weight of him. Solid and real and pressing against me. He is here. I found him. Just like he wanted me to.

I hold him for a long, long time. It takes eternity to confirm to myself that I’m not hallucinating. He is here. In my arms. Safe and sound. I’m in the fey lands with Llywelyn.

“How long has it been for you?” I wheeze.

He doesn’t look any older, but I’m not sure how fey age and time definitely runs differently here.

“Only three weeks!” he says cheerfully. “It was fine because I knew you would come. It gave me time to get our home all cosy, and start a garden.”

He pulls away from me, takes my hand and leads me down the twisting path he just walked up. As we walk, he babbles incessantly.

He talks about the fresh water in the stream. All the delicious berries and nuts. The vegetable garden he has planted. The old abandoned home he has been making cosy.

He talks about the three times a day he walks up to the stone circle to see if I have arrived yet. My heart thuds against my ribcage. Llywelyn doesn’t have any doubt in his voice at all. He had blind faith that I would come .

I didn’t even know I would. I thought I was crazy. Clinging to straws. Making patterns where there were none. I could have dismissed the look Dyfri gave me. I so very easily could have turned away at any point. I could have driven somewhere else. I could have frozen outside the stone circle and never stepped foot inside it.

I think the horror of that is going to haunt me for the rest of my days.

Llywelyn squeezes my hand. It grounds me. It forces me to realise I am here, I did make it, and now everything is going to be wonderful.

I just need time for the shock to wear off and for the truth to settle in. Right now, I’m still in a numb daze.

Llywelyn beams up at me. I’ve never seen him look so happy. He is dazzling with it. And oh my god, I thought he was beautiful before… now I’m just going to be mindlessly gawping at him all day long. Forever and ever.

Something is missing though. “Your antlers?”

If he is so happy, where are his antlers?

His smile deepens even more. “I’m not royalty anymore.”

I blink. I guess that is a wonderful thing. It means he is free. Just like I am. I open my mouth to say something, but just then, we step into another clearing.

I see a picturesque vegetable garden, like something out of a Beatrix Potter book. I see a small, single-story stone cottage. Grey stone walls. Small windows of thick glass. A thatched roof. Purple and white flowers are growing up the walls and framing the crooked wooden door.

A laugh bubbles out of me. Full, rich and merry.

Llywelyn gives me a bemused look, but he is still smiling. I look at him, framed by the backdrop of the home he has made for us.

It is everything I wanted.

It’s our little cottage in the woods.